By James Patterson

The wildest mystery but from "one of America's such a lot influential authors" (New York Times)...Working as a lifeguard at a sumptuous Florida lodge, Ned Kelly meets the girl of his goals. It feels ideal in each way-except that she's used to caviar and Manolo Blahniks, and he is used to burgers and flip-flops.So while Ned's cousin bargains to chop him in on a quick break-and-enter task, Ned cannot flip it down. the chance is excessive, and the present is even greater-$5 million. however the theft is going devastatingly fallacious. compelled to run clear of his city and the girl he is fallen in love with, Ned is familiar with that in simple terms distance and secrecy can store his existence. yet who's pursuing him? The FBI? Whoever sabotaged the heist? Or is all of it someway tied in to his new love-and his oldest enemies?

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Man has a fricking gun! ” Six flights up, I driven open a heavy door and got here out in a crimson plush-carpeted hallway. I listened for Stratton’s footsteps. not anything. Room 601 was once to the left, towards the elevators. I headed in that path. I grew to become the nook and observed Stratton myself. He was once down on the finish of the corridor, suffering to jam a plastic key right into a door. I didn’t recognize what used to be inside of. perhaps extra aid. “Stratton! ” I yelled, pointing the gun at him. He grew to become and confronted me. something virtually made me smile, his cool, always-in-control demeanor twisted right into a frantic glare. Stratton’s arm jerked upward and he fired his gun. Flashes careened off the wall close to my head. I pointed my gun yet didn’t fireplace. up to I hated him, I didn’t are looking to kill him. yet Stratton observed my gun—and he ran down one other hall. I went after him. Like a cornered prey, Stratton all started attempting doorways round the elevator touchdown. They have been locked. there has been a balcony there, however it led nowhere yet outdoors. Then a door ultimately opened—and he disappeared. bankruptcy 108 THE STRANGEST proposal flashed via my brain as, gun in hand, I made my manner up a darkened concrete staircase, following Dennis Stratton. Years in the past. again in Brockton. i used to be wrestling with Dave. i believe i used to be fifteen; he must’ve been ten. He and one in all his goofy neighbors have been making idiotic chimp noises whereas i used to be attempting to make out with this lady, Roxanne Petrocelli, in Buckley Park, simply down from our condo. I chased him down via the jungle gyms, and had him beautiful solid, possibly the final time i may ever take Dave. I had his fingers and neck pinned again in one of those complete nelson. I stored asserting, “Uncle? Uncle? ” hoping he’d surrender. however the difficult man wouldn’t budge. I stored pushing tougher, gazing him develop redder within the face. i presumed if I driven any longer, i might kill him. eventually Dave cried out, “Okay, Uncle,” and that i permit him cross. For a moment he simply sat there, respiring seriously, the colour coming again to his cheeks; then he charged at me with all his could and knocked me on my again. As he rolled on most sensible of me, Dave used to be smirking. “Uncle Al thinks you’re a dumb sonuvabitch. ” I don’t be aware of why that popped into my head as I climbed after Stratton. however it did. a kind of bizarre connections within the mind in the event you think at risk. the steps rose correct up into one of many Breakers’ huge, immense towers. The stairwell was once darkish, yet outdoors, large floods despatched chasms of wonderful gentle capturing into the evening. I didn’t see Stratton anywhere—but I knew he used to be up there. I stored listening to, like a far off drumming in my head, Uncle Al thinks you’re a dumb sonuvabitch. I driven open a steel door and got here out onto the concrete flooring of the inn roof. The scene was once virtually surreal. Palm seashore laid out throughout. The lighting fixtures of the Biltmore, the Flagler Bridge, condo constructions over in West Palm. large floods, prepared like howitzers, channeled large beams of blinding mild on the towers and the hotel’s facade. I regarded round for Stratton. the place the hell was once he? Tarps and garage sheds and television dishes, all in shadow.

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