Kristin Burns has lived her life by the philosophy "Don't think, just shoot"--pictures, that is. Struggling to make ends meet, she works full-time as the nanny for the fabulously wealthy Turnbull family, looking after their two wonderful children and waiting for her glamorous life as a New York photographer to begin. When her photographs are considered by an elite Manhattan art gallery, it seems she might finally get the chance that will start her career. But Kristin has a major distraction: forbidden love. The man of her dreams is almost hers for keeps. Breathless with an inexhaustible passion and the excitement of being within reach of her goals, Kristen ignores all signs of catastrophe brewing. Fear exists for a reason. And Kristin can only dismiss the warnings for so long. Searching desperately for the truth through the lens of her camera, she can only hope that it's not too late. This novel of psychological suspense is a stunning achievement for thriller master James Patterson, "one of the bestselling writers in history.
You've Been Warned
The Novels of James Patterson
FEATURING ALEX CROSS
Cross
Mary, Mary
London Bridges
The Big Bad Wolf
Four Blind Mice
Violets Are Blue
Roses Are Red
Pop Goes the Weasel
Cat & Mouse
Jack & Jill
Kiss the Girls
Along Came a Spider
THE WOMEN’S MURDER CLUB
The 6th Target(coauthor: Maxine Paetro)
The 5th Horseman(coauthor: Maxine Paetro)
4th of July(coauthor: Maxine Paetro)
3rd Degree(coauthor: Andrew Gross)
2nd Chance(coauthor: Andrew Gross)
1st to Die
OTHER BOOKS
You’ve Been Warned (coauthor: Howard Roughan)
Maximum Ride: Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports
The Quickie(coauthor: Michael Ledwidge)
Step on a Crack(coauthor: Michael Ledwidge)
Judge & Jury(coauthor: Andrew Gross)
Maximum Ride: School’s Out — Forever
Beach Road(coauthor: Peter de Jonge)
Lifeguard(coauthor: Andrew Gross)
Maximum Ride
Honeymoon(coauthor: Howard Roughan)
SantaKid
Sam’s Letters to Jennifer
The Lake House
The Jester(coauthor: Andrew Gross)
The Beach House(coauthor: Peter de Jonge)
Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas
Cradle and All
Black Friday
When the Wind Blows
See How They Run
Miracle on the 17th Green(coauthor: Peter de Jonge)
Hide & Seek
The Midnight Club
Season of the Machete
The Thomas Berryman Number
For more information about James Patterson’s novels, visit www.jamespatterson.com.
—H. R.
—J. P.
Character, like a photograph, develops in darkness.
Chapter 1
That’s what I’d be thinking, were I actually thinking clearly right now. I’m not.
The second I turn the corner on my way to work and see the crowd, the commotion, the dingy gray body bags being wheeled out of that oh-so-chichi hotel, I reach for my camera. I can’t help it. It’s instinct on my part.
My head whips left and right, the lens of my Leica R9 leading the way. I focus first on the faces around me—the gawkers, the lookie-loos.
I move forward, even as something inside me is saying, “Look away, walk away.” Even as something says, “You know where you are. This hotel. You know, Kristin.”
I’m weaving my way toward the entrance to the hotel. Closer and closer, I’m being pulled—as if by an undertow that I can’t resist. And I keep shooting pictures as though I’m on assignment for the
Parked at jagged angles, police cars and ambulances fill the street. I look up from their sirens, tracing the twirling beams of blue-and-red light as they dance against the surrounding brownstones.
I spy more gawkers in the windows of nearby apartments. A woman wearing curlers takes a bite of a bagel.
Something catches my eye. It’s a reflection, the sun bouncing off the rail of the last gurney being wheeled out of the hotel. That makes four.
They sit, gathered on the sidewalk—four gurneys—each holding a body bag. It’s horrifying. Just awful.
My wrist twists, and I go wide-angle to shoot them as a group—like a family. My wrist twists back, and I go tight, shooting them one by one.
Two muscular paramedics walk out of the hotel and approach a couple of cops. Detectives, like on
One of the detectives—older, rail thin—looks my way. I think he sees me.
Having burned through a roll of film, I furiously load another.
There’s really nothing more to shoot, and yet I keep firing away. I’m late for work, but it doesn’t matter. It’s as if I can’t leave.
My head snaps back to the gurneys as something catches my eye. At first, I can’t believe it. Maybe it’s the wind, or just my mind playing tricks early in the morning.
Then it happens again, and I gasp. The last body bag...
I’m terrified and want to run away. Instead, I edge even closer. Instinct? Undertow?
