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Rhyme continued to watch his cousin, staring at the front door of the town house. But the man wasn't budging.
A long sip of scotch.
When Rhyme looked back, the park bench was empty.
He was alarmed--and hurt--by the man's abrupt departure. He drove the wheelchair forward quickly, getting as close to the window as he could.
And he saw Arthur, dodging traffic, making for the town house.
Silence for a long, long moment. Finally the doorbell buzzed.
"Command," Rhyme said quickly to his attentive computer. "Unlock front door."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Calvin Geddes's comment about a "brave new world" is, of course, a reference to the title of Aldous Huxley's 1932 futuristic novel about the loss of individual identity in a supposedly utopian society. The book remains as harrowing as ever, as does George Orwell's 1984.
Readers wishing to know more about the issue of privacy might want to peruse some of the following organizations' Web sites: Electronic Privacy Information Center (EPIC.org); Global Internet Liberty Campaign (www.gilc.org); In Defense of Freedom (www.indefenseoffreedom.org); Internet Free Expression Alliance (https://ifea.net); The Privacy Coalition (https://privacycoalition.org); Privacy International (www.privacyinternational.org); Privacy.org (www.privacy.org); and the Electronic Frontier Foundation (www.eff.org).
I think you'll also enjoy--and be unnerved by--the excellent book from which I borrowed several quotations to use as epigrams, No Place to Hide, by Robert O'Harrow, Jr.
Those who'd like to know more about how Amelia Sachs came to meet Pam Willoughby might wish to read The Bone Collector, and their follow-up story in The Cold Moon. Similarly, The Cold Moon describes Lincoln Rhyme's first meeting with the killer whom he and Inspector Longhurst try to capture in this novel.
Oh, and be sure to keep an eye on your identity. If you don't, there're plenty of people out there who will.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My thanks to a great crew: Will and Tina Anderson, Louise Burke, Luisa Colicchio, Jane Davis, Julie Deaver, Jamie Hodder-Williams, Paolo Klun, Carolyn Mays, Deborah Schneider, Vivienne Schuster, Seba Pezzani, Betsy Robbins, David Rosenthal, Marysue Rucci . . . and, of course, Madelyn Warcholik.
ROADSIDE CROSSES
JEFFERY DEAVER
Coming in June 2009 in hardcover from Simon & Schuster
Turn the page for a preview of Roadside Crosses. . . .
MONDAY
Chapter 1
Out of place.
The California Highway Patrol trooper, young with bristly yellow hair beneath his crisp hat, squinted through the windshield of his Crown Victoria Police Interceptor as he cruised south along Highway 1 in Monterey. Dunes to the right, modest commercial sprawl to the left.
Something was out of place. What?
Heading home at 5:00 p.m. after his tour had ended, he surveyed the road. The trooper didn't write a lot of tickets here, leaving that to the county deputies--professional courtesy--but he occasionally lit up somebody in a German or Italian car if he was in a mood, and this was the route he often took home at this time of day, so he knew the highway pretty well.
There . . . that was it. Something colorful, a quarter mile ahead, sat by the side of the road, sitting at the base of one of the hills of sand that cut off the view of Monterey Bay.
What could it be?
He hit his light bar--protocol--and pulled over onto the right shoulder. He parked with the hood of the Crown Vic pointed leftward toward traffic, so a rear-ender would shove the car away from, not over, him, and climbed out. Stuck in the sand just beyond the shoulder was a cross--a roadside memorial. It was about eighteen inches high and homemade, cobbled together out of dark, broken-off branches, bound with wire like florists use. Dark red roses lay in a splashy bouquet at the base. A cardboard disk was in the center, the date of the accident written on it in blue ink. There were no names on the front or back.
Officially these memorials to traffic accident victims were discouraged, since people were occasionally injured, even killed, planting a cross or leaving flowers or stuffed animals.
Usually the memorials were tasteful and poignant. This one
