James Patterson - 7th Heaven

Copyright 2008 by James Patterson

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Little, Brown and Company

Hachette Book Group

237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017

Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

First eBook Edition: February 2008

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

ISBN: 978-0-316-02903-2

James Pattersons Womens Murder Club Series

7th Heaven (coauthor Maxine Paetro)

The 6th Target (Maxine Paetro)

The 5th Horseman (Maxine Paetro)

4th of July (Maxine Paetro)

3rd Degree (Andrew Gross)

2nd Chance (Andrew Gross)

1st to Die

The Novels of James Patterson

FEATURING ALEX CROSS

Double 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 JAMES PATTERSON PAGETURNERS

The Dangerous Days of Daniel X

The Final Warning: A Maximum Ride Novel

Maximum Ride: Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports

Maximum Ride: Schools Out Forever

Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment

OTHER BOOKS

Youve Been Warned (coauthor Howard Roughan)

The Quickie (Michael Ledwidge)

Step on a Crack (Michael Ledwidge)

Judge & Jury (Andrew Gross)

Beach Road (Peter de Jonge)

Lifeguard (Andrew Gross)

Honeymoon (Howard Roughan)

santaKid

Sams Letters to Jennifer

The Lake House

The Jester (Andrew Gross)

The Beach House (Peter de Jonge)

Suzannes Diary for Nicholas

Cradle and All

Black Friday

When the Wind Blows

See How They Run

Miracle on the 17th Green (Peter de Jonge)

Hide & Seek

The Midnight Club

Black Friday (originally published as Black Market)

See How They Run (originally published as The Jericho Commandment)

Season of the Machete

The Thomas Berryman Number

For more information about James Pattersons novels, visit www.jamespatterson.com.

To our spouses and children: Susie and Jack, John and Brendan

Our thanks and gratitude to these top professionals, who were so generous with their time and expertise: Dr. Humphrey Germaniuk, Captain Richard Conklin, Chuck Hanni, Dr. Allen Ross, Philip R. Hoffman, Melody Fujimori, Mickey Sherman, and Dr. Maria Paige.

And special thanks to our excellent researchers, Ellie Shurtleff, Don MacBain, Lynn Colomello, and Margaret Ross, and to Mary Jordan, who keeps it all together.

THE CHRISTMAS SONG

TINY LIGHTS WINKED on the Douglas fir standing tall and full in front of the picture window. Swags of Christmas greenery and dozens of cards decked the well-appointed living room, and apple logs crackled in the fireplace, scenting the air as they burned.

A digitized Bing Crosby crooned The Christmas Song.

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost nipping at your nose...

Henry Jablonsky couldnt see the boys clearly. The one called Hawk had snatched off his glasses and put them a mile away on the fireplace mantel, a good thing, Jablonsky had reasoned at the time.

It meant that the boys didnt want to be identified, that they were planning to let them go. Please, God, please let us live and Ill serve you all the days of my life.

Jablonsky watched the two shapes moving around the tree, knew that the gun was in Hawks waistband. He heard wrapping paper tear, saw the one called Pidge dangling a bow for the new kitten.

Theyd said they werent going to hurt them.

They said this was only a robbery.

Jablonsky had memorized their faces well enough to describe to a police sketch artist, which he would be doing as soon as they got the hell out of his home.

Both boys looked as though theyd stepped from the pages of a Ralph Lauren ad.

Hawk. Clean-cut. Well-spoken. Blond, with side-parted hair. Pidge, bigger. Probably six two. Long brown hair. Strong as a horse. Meaty hands. Ivy League types. Both of them.

Maybe there really was some goodness in them.

As Jablonsky watched, the blond one, Hawk, walked over to the bookshelf, dragged his long fingers across the spines of the books, calling out titles, his voice warm, as though he were a friend of the family.

He said to Henry Jablonsky, Wow, Mr. J., youve got Fahrenheit 451. This is a classic.

Hawk pulled the book from the shelf, opened it to the first page. Then he stooped down to where Jablonsky was hog-tied on the floor with a sock in his mouth.

You cant beat Bradbury for an opening, Hawk said. And then he read aloud with a clear, dramatic voice.

It was a pleasure to burn. It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed.

As Hawk read, Pidge hauled a large package out from under the tree. It was wrapped in gold foil, tied with gold ribbon. Something Peggy had always wanted and had waited for, for years.

To Peggy, from Santa, Pidge read from the gift tag. He sliced through the wrappings with a knife.

He had a knife!

Pidge opened the box, peeled back the layers of tissue.

A Birkin bag, Peggy. Santa brought you a nine-thousand-dollar purse! Id call that a no, Peg. A definite no.

Pidge reached for another wrapped gift, shook the box, while Hawk turned his attention to Peggy Jablonsky. Peggy pleaded with Hawk, her actual words muffled by the wad of sock in her mouth. It broke Henrys heavy heart to see how hard she tried to communicate with her eyes.

Hawk reached out and stroked Peggys baby-blond hair, then patted her damp cheek. Were going to open all your presents now, Mrs. J. Yours too, Mr. J., he said. Then well decide if were going to let you live.

HENRY JABLONSKYS STOMACH HEAVED. He gagged against the thick wool of the sock, pulled against his restraints, smelled the sour odor of urine. Heat puddled under his clothes. Christ. Hed wet himself. But it didnt matter. The only thing that mattered was to get out alive.

He couldnt move. He couldnt speak. But he could reason.

What could he do?

Jablonsky looked around from his place on the floor, took in the fire poker only yards away. He fixed his vision on that poker.

Mrs. J., Pidge called out to Peggy, shaking a small turquoise box. This is from Henry. A Peretti necklace. Very nice. What? You have something to say?

Pidge went over to Peggy Jablonsky and took the sock out of her mouth.

You dont really know Dougie, do you? she said.

Dougie who? Pidge laughed.

Dont hurt us

No, no, Mrs. J., Pidge said, stuffing the sock back into his captives mouth. No donts. This is our game. Our rules.

The kitten pounced into the heap of wrapping paper as the gifts were opened; the diamond earrings, the Herms tie, and the Jensen salad tongs, Jablonsky praying that they would just take the stuff and leave. Then he heard Pidge speak to Hawk, his voice more subdued than before, so that Jablonsky had to strain to hear over the blood pounding in his ears.