By James Patterson
The number one BESTSELLING BLOCKBUSTER
Can Alex go continue to exist his such a lot chilling - and private - case ever? Pulled out of a kin get together, Detective Alex pass will get lousy information: A liked relative has been came upon brutally murdered. Vowing to seize the killer, he quick learns that she was once combined up in a single of Washington, D.C.'s wildest scenes. and he or she was once no longer this killer's basically sufferer . . .
The hunt for the assassin leads Alex and his female friend, Detective Brianna Stone, to a spot the place each fable is feasible, when you have the credentials to get in. quickly they confront a few vitally important, very secure, and intensely harmful those who will do whatever to maintain their secrets and techniques secure. As Alex closes in at the killer, he discovers facts that issues to the incredible - a revelation which could rock the full international.
Read or Download I, Alex Cross (Alex Cross, Book 16) [US Version] PDF
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Additional resources for I, Alex Cross (Alex Cross, Book 16) [US Version]
You’re a dead man, Bolitar. You hear me? ” I said. ” “Oh, good, because if I were a deaf man, I wouldn’t be able to hear you. ” The horn sounded. ” “Dead man,” he said one more time. ” but he had already spun away. I watched him. He had that confident, slow swagger, shoulders back, arms swaying a tad too much. I was going to yell out something stupid when I felt a hand on my arm. I turned. It was Ali, Jack’s mother. ” Ali asked. Ali had these big green eyes and this cute, wide-open face I found fairly irresistible.
I thought maybe he’d been crying. He was beyond terrified—this from a man I never saw remotely scared before. ” Her eyes were wet now. Terese clasped her hands prayerlike, resting her fingertips on the bridge of her nose. ” I sat back, frowned. ” Terese was not one for hyperbole either. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. ” I asked. ” I nodded. ” “I don’t know that either. ” This was not going to be easy. ” Her hand shook as she picked up the coffee cup and brought it to her lips. ” She kept the cup up, as though using it for protection.
She was not. We said our good-byes, but that hadn’t been the end of us. Terese helped me when I needed it most, eight years ago, and then she vanished back into her hurt. Now she was back. For eight years, Terese Collins had been gone not only from me but from public view. In the nineties, she had been a popular TV personality, CNN’s top anchorwoman, and then, poof, gone. The plane landed and taxied to the gate. I grabbed my bag—no need to check luggage when it was for only a couple of nights— and wondered what awaited me.