James Patterson - Womens Murder Club 1 1st to Die

First To Die

* * * * *

A NOVEL BY JAMES PATTERSON

Warner Books, Inc.

Hachette Book Group

ISBN: 9780759524545

Synopsis:

1st to Die is a dazzlingly powerful new thriller by master suspense novelist James Patterson, the #1 best selling author of Kiss the Girls and Along Came a Spider. Four women--four friends--share a determination to stop a killer who has been stalking newlyweds in San Francisco. Each one holds a piece of the puzzle: Lindsay Boxer is a homicide inspector in the San Francisco Police Department, Claire Washburn is a medical examiner, Jill Bernhardt is an assistant D.A. and Cindy Thomas just started working the crime desk of the San Francisco Chronicle. But the usual procedures aren't bringing them any closer to stopping the killings. So these women form a Women's Murder Club to collaborate outside the box and pursue the case by sidestepping their bosses and giving one another a hand. The four women develop intense bonds as they pursue a murderer whose crimes have stunned an entire city. Working together, they track down the most terrifying and unexpected killer they have ever encountered--before a shocking conclusion in which everything they know turns out to be devastatingly wrong. Full of the breathtaking drama and unforgettable emotions for which James Patterson is famous, 1st to Die is the start of a blazingly fast-paced and sensationally entertaining new series of thrillers.

JAMES PATTERSON is the author of many international bestsellers, including Kiss the Girls and Along Came a Spider, which were made into movies starring Morgan Freeman, Cat & Mouse, Jack & Jill, When the Wind Blows, Pop Goes the Weasel, Cradle dr All, and Roses Are Red. He is now at work on the second in this new series of thrillers and on a new Alex Cross novel. He lives in Florida.

THE WHOLE TRUTH

THE NIGHT FOLLOWING JENKS'S ARRAIGNMENT,

Chief Mercer had gotten the skybox at PacBell from one of his wealthy buddies. He invited several of us, including me, Raleigh, and Cheery,

to a Giants game. It was a warm summer evening. They were playing the Cards. My father would have loved it.

I didn't really want to go, didn't want to feel on display as the cop who'd caught Jenks, but Mercer pressed.

And it was Mark McG wire and all, so I put on a wind breaker and went along for the ride.

All evening long, Chris and I kept sneaking looks at each other. There was a special energy in the box, a glowing ring around just him and me.

The game was background noise. In the third, Mighty Mac hit one off Ortiz that went out of sight and almost landed in the bay. The stadium cheered wildly, even for a Card. In the fourth, Barry Bonds tied it with a shot of his own.

Chris and I couldn't stop watching each other. We had our legs up on the same chair, like schoolkids, and every once in a while our calves brushed together. Jesus, this was better than the ball game.

Finally, he winked at me. Want something to drink? he said.

He went over to the bowl of drinks, which was elevated from the seats,

and I followed. The others didn't look back. As soon as we were out of sight, he placed his hands on my thighs and kissed me. I felt on fire. You want to hang around?

Still beer left, I joked.

His hand brushed against the side of my breast, and I felt a tremor.

Soft hands. My breath quickened. A flicker of sweat broke through on my neck.

Chris kissed me again. He drew me in close, and I felt the cadence of a heart pounding between us. I didn't know if it was his or mine.

Can't wait, he said.

Okay, let's get out of here.

No. He shook his head. I meant I can't wait.

Oh, Jesus. I sighed. I couldn't hold back. My whole body was heating up to the boiling point. I glanced down at Cheery and Mercer and the two Mill Valley types. This is crazy, Lindsay.

But everything lately was crazy, everything speeding out of control.

It seemed as if every natural force in the universe was driving Chris and me to find a secluded spot. There was a bathroom in the skybox,

barely large enough to put on makeup in. We didn't care.

Chris led me into the bathroom while the baseball crowd roared at something. We could barely squeeze in. Jesus, I could not believe I was doing this here. He unbuttoned my blouse, I unfastened his belt.

Our thighs were pressed tightly together.

Gently, Chris lifted me onto him. I felt as if a shooting star had exploded in my veins. Chris was up against the counter; I was in the palms of his hands; we were squeezed into this tiny space, but we were in a perfect rhythm.

A crowd roar echoed in from outside: Maybe McG wire had hit another,

maybe Bonds had robbed him- who cared. We kept rocking, Chris and I. I couldn't breathe. My body was slick with sweat. I couldn't stop.

Chris kept it going, I gripped on tight, and in a moment we both gasped.

Two hero cops, I thought.

It was the best, the freest, the most excited I had ever felt. Chris rested his forehead on my shoulder. I kissed his cheek, his neck.

Then the strangest thought took hold of me. I began to laugh, a mixture of laughter and exhausted sighs. We were pinned there, spent,

a few feet from my boss. I was giggling like a damn fool. I was going to get us caught!

What's so funny? Chris whispered.

I was thinking of Claire and Cindy. And what we had just done.

I think I just made the list, I said.

THE NEXT DAY, Jenks asked to meet again. Jill and I went to see him on the tenth floor. We wondered what was up. This time, there was no cat and mouse, no bullshit at all. Leff was there, but he rose, humbly, as soon as we came in.

Jenks looked far less threatening in his gray prison garb. The worried look on his face was a clear message.

My client wants to make a statement, Leff announced as soon as we sat down.

I was thinking, This is it. He wants to make a deal. He's seen how ridiculous it is to play this game.

But he came out with something unexpected.

I'm being framed! Jenks announced angrily.

It took about a half second for Jill's glance to bump into mine.

I have to hear this again, she said. What's going on? She looked at Jenks, then at Leff.

"We've got your client tied to all three crime scenes; we've got him in Cleveland at the time of the last murder; we've got him lying about a prior relationship with Kathy Kogut, one of the last victims; we've got his book detailing an astonishingly similar criminal pattern; we've got his facial hairs matched to one found in another victim's vagina.

And you're claiming he's being framed?"

What I'm claiming, Jenks said, ashen faced, is that I'm being set up.

Listen, Mr. Jenks, Jill said, still looking at Leff, I've been doing this eight years. I've built cases on hundreds of criminals, put over fifty murderers behind bars myself. I've never seen such a preponderance of evidence implicating a suspect. Our case is so airtight it can't breathe.

I realize that. Jenks sighed. And that I've given you every reason to find my plea implausible. I've lied about being in Cleveland, my relationship with Kathy. On the others, I can't even account for my whereabouts. But I also know setups. I've mapped out more of them than anybody. I'm a master at this. And I assure you, someone is setting me up.

I shook my head with disbelief. Who, Mr. Jenks?

Jenks sucked in a long breath. He actually looked scared. I don't know.

Someone hates you enough to set all this up? Jill couldn't hold back a snicker. The little I know of you, I might buy that. She turned to Leff. You looking forward to presenting this case?

Just hear him out, Ms. Bernhardt, the lawyer pleaded.

Look, Jenks said, "I know what you think of me. I'm guilty of many things. Selfishness, cruelty, adultery. I have a