11th Hour
James Patterson
Contents
About the Book
About the Author
Also in the Women’s Murder Club Series
Also by James Patterson
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Book One: The House of Heads
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Book Two: Media Circus
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Book Three: Friends and Lovers
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Book Four: In From the Cold
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Chapter 116
Chapter 117
Chapter 118
Chapter 119
Acknowledgments
Author Note
Copyright
About the Book
Detective Lindsay Boxer is pregnant – and investigating the discovery of severed heads in a movie star’s garden.
Your best friend
Lindsay Boxer is pregnant at last! But her work doesn’t slow for a second. When millionaire Chaz Smith is mercilessly gunned down, she discovers that the murder weapon is linked to the deaths of four of San Francisco’s most untouchable criminals. And it was taken from her own department’s evidence locker. Anyone could be the killer – even her closest friends.
Or a vicious killer?
Lindsay is called next to the most bizarre crime scene she’s ever witnessed: two bodiless heads elaborately displayed in the garden of a world-famous actor. Another head is unearthed in the garden, and Lindsay realises that the ground could hide hundreds of victims.
You won’t know until the 11th hour
A reporter launches a series of malicious articles about the cases and Lindsay’s personal life is laid bare. But this time she has no one to turn to – especially not Joe.
About the Author
JAMES PATTERSON is one of the best-known and biggest-selling writers of all time. He is the author of some of the most popular series of the past decade – the Alex Cross, Women’s Murder Club and Detective Michael Bennett novels – and he has written many other number one bestsellers including romance novels and stand-alone thrillers. He lives in Florida with his wife and son.
James is passionate about encouraging children to read. Inspired by his own son who was a reluctant reader, he also writes a range of books specifically for young readers. James has formed a partnership with the National Literacy Trust, an independent, UK-based charity that changes lives through literacy. In 2010, he was voted Author of the Year at the Children’s Choice Book Awards in New York.
THE WOMEN’S MURDER CLUB SERIES
1st to Die
2nd Chance (with Andrew Gross)
3rd Degree (with Andrew Gross)
4th of July (with Maxine Paetro)
The 5th Horseman (with Maxine Paetro)
The 6th Target (with Maxine Paetro)
7th Heaven (with Maxine Paetro)
8th Confession (with Maxine Paetro)
9th Judgement (with Maxine Paetro)
10th Anniversary (with Maxine Paetro)
Also by James Patterson
ALEX CROSS NOVELS
Along Came a Spider • Kiss the Girls • Jack and Jill •
Cat and Mouse • Pop Goes the Weasel • Roses are Red •
Violets are Blue • Four Blind Mice • The Big Bad Wolf •
London Bridges • Mary, Mary • Cross • Double Cross •
Cross Country • Alex Cross’s Trial (with Richard DiLallo) •
I, Alex Cross • Cross Fire • Kill Alex Cross
DETECTIVE MICHAEL BENNETT SERIES
Step on a Crack (with Michael Ledwidge) • Run for Your Life
(with Michael Ledwidge) • Worst Case (with Michael Ledwidge) •
Tick Tock (with Michael Ledwidge) • I, Michael Bennett
(with Michael Ledwidge, to be published June 2012)
PRIVATE NOVELS
Private (with Maxine Paetro) • Private London
(with Mark Pearson) • Private Games (with Mark Sullivan) •
Private: No. 1 Suspect (with Maxine Paetro, to be
published April 2012)
STAND-ALONE THRILLERS
Sail (with Howard Roughan) • Swimsuit (with Maxine Paetro) •
Don’t Blink (with Howard Roughan) • Postcard Killers
(with Liza Marklund) • Toys (with Neil McMahon) •
Now You See Her (with Michael Ledwidge) • Kill Me If You Can
(with Marshall Karp) • Guilty Wives (with David Ellis, to be published July 2012)
NON-FICTION
Torn Apart (with Hal and Cory Friedman) •
The Murder of King Tut (with Martin Dugard)
ROMANCE
Sundays at Tiffany’s (with Gabrielle Charbonnet) •
The Christmas Wedding (with Richard DiLa
llo)
FAMILY OF PAGE-TURNERS
MAXIMUM RIDE SERIES
The Angel Experiment • School’s Out Forever •
Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports •
The Final Warning • Max • Fang • Angel • Nevermore
(to be published August 2012)
DANIEL X SERIES
The Dangerous Days of Daniel X (with Michael Ledwidge) •
Daniel X: Watch the Skies (with Ned Rust) • Daniel X: Demons
and Druids (with Adam Sadler) • Daniel X: Game Over
(with Ned Rust)
WITCH & WIZARD SERIES
Witch & Wizard (with Gabrielle Charbonnet) •
Witch & Wizard: The Gift (with Ned Rust) •
Witch & Wizard: The Fire (with Jill Dembowski)
MIDDLE SCHOOL SERIES
Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life (with Chris Tebbetts
and Laura Park) • Middle School: Get Me Out of Here!
(with Chris Tebbetts and Laura Park, to be published April 2012)
ILLUSTRATED NOVELS
Daniel X: Alien Hunter Graphic Novel (with Leopoldo Gout) •
Maximum Ride: Manga Vol. 1 (with NaRae Lee) • Maximum
Ride: Manga Vol. 2 (with NaRae Lee) • Maximum Ride: Manga
Vol. 3 (with NaRae Lee) • Maximum Ride: Manga Vol. 4 (with
NaRae Lee) • Maximum Ride: Manga Vol. 5 (with NaRae Lee)
For more information about James Patterson’s novels, visit www.jamespatterson.co.uk
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Prologue
REVENGE
One
A GOOD-LOOKING MAN in his forties sat in the back row of the auditorium at the exclusive Morton Academy of Music. He was wearing a blue suit, white shirt, and a snappy striped tie. His features were good, although not remarkable, but behind the blue tint of his glasses, he had very kind brown eyes.
He had come to the recital alone and had a passing thought about his wife and children at home, but then he refocused his attention on someone else’s child.
Her name was Noelle Smith. She was eleven, a cute little girl and a very talented young violinist who had just performed a Bach gavotte with distinction.
Noelle knew she’d done well. She took a deep bow with a flourish, grinning as two hundred parents in the audience clapped and whistled.
As the applause died down, a gray-haired man in the third row popped up from his seat, buttoned his jacket, stepped out into the aisle, and headed toward the lobby.
That man was Chaz Smith, Noelle’s father.
The man in the blue suit waited several seconds, then followed Smith, staying back a few paces, walking along the cream-tiled corridor, then taking a right past the pint-size water fountain and into the short spur of a hallway that ended at the men’s room.
After entering the men’s room, he looked beneath the stalls and saw Chaz Smith’s Italian loafers under the door at the far right. Otherwise, the room was empty. In a minute or two, the room would fill.
The man in the blue suit moved quickly, picking up the large metal trash can next to the sink and placing it so that it blocked the exit.
Then he called out, “Mr. Smith? I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s about your car.”
“What? Who is that?”
“Your car, Mr. Smith. You left your lights on.”
The man in the blue suit removed his semiauto .22-caliber Ruger from his jacket pocket, screwed on the suppressor. Then he took out a tan-colored plastic bag, the kind you get at the supermarket, and pulled the bag over his gun.
Smith swore. Then the toilet flushed and Smith opened the door. His gray hair was mussed, white powder rimmed his nostrils, and his face showed fierce indignation.
“You’re sure it’s my car?” he said. “My wife will kill me if I’m not back in my seat for the finale.”
“I’m really sorry to do this to your wife and child. Noelle played beautifully.”
Smith looked puzzled — then he knew. He dropped the vial of coke, and his hand dove under his jacket. Too late.
The man in the blue suit lifted his bag-covered gun, pulled the trigger, and shot Chaz Smith twice between the eyes.
Two
A LONG SECOND bloomed like a white flower in the blue-tiled room.
Smith stared at his killer, his blue eyes wide open, two bullet holes in his forehead weeping blood, a look of disbelief frozen on his face. He was still on his feet, but his heart had stopped.
Chaz Smith was dead and he knew it.
The shooter stared back at Smith, then reached out a hand and pushed him off his feet. The dead man fell into the stall, collapsing onto the seat, his head knocking once against the wall.
It was a perfect setting for the late Chaz Smith. Dead on the toilet, a fitting last pose for this crud.
“You deserved this. You deserved worse, you son of a bitch.”
It had been a good kill, and now he had to get out.
He put the plastic bag containing the shell casings, the GSR, and the gun back into his jacket pocket and closed the stall door.
Then he carried the trash can out of the men’s room and put it down so that it blocked the door from the outside. That would hold people off for a while, make them think that the men’s room was temporarily closed.
The man in the blue suit heard a rush of sound. The auditorium doors had opened for the crowd. He headed back by way of the main hallway, turning left just as people poured into the lobby, chattering and laughing. None of them noticed him, but even if they had, they would never have connected him to the dead man.
There was a fire alarm box on the wall next to a door marked TEACHERS’ LOUNGE.
Using his handkerchief to glove his hand, he opened the door to the box, lifted the hammer, broke the glass, and pulled the lever; the alarm bell shrilled.
Then he walked directly into the thick of the crowd.
Children were already starting to scream and run in circles in the lobby. Parents called out to their kids, took their hands or lifted them into their arms, and moved quickly toward the front doors.
The man went with the crowd, through the glass doors and out onto California Street. He kept going, turned onto a side street, passed Chaz Smith’s Ferrari, and unlocked his scarred SUV parked right behind it.
A moment later, he cruised slowly past the school. All the good people — the kids and their parents — were facing the building, staring up at the roof, watching for smoke and flames.
They didn’t know it, but they were all safer now.
Chaz Smith was only one of his targets. The media had started tracking this shooter’s kills — drug dealers, all of them. One of the papers had given him a nickname and it had stuck.
Now they all called him Revenge.
Fire engines approached from Thirty-Second Avenue, and the man called Revenge stepped on the gas. Not a good time to get stuck in a traffic jam.
He had shopping to do before he went home to his family.
Book One
THE HOUSE OF HEADS
Chapter 1
YUKI CASTELLANO OPENED HER eyes. She was in her lover’s arms, in her mother’s bed. If she was dreaming, it was a pretty funny dream.
She grinned to herself, almost seeing her dead mom sitting in the green slipper chair by the dresser, a look of disapproval on her face — and, as sometimes happened, her mother’s voice got into her head.
Yuki-eh, you want to have hus-band. Not lover.
Mom. Mom, he’s so great.
He so married.
Separated!
Jackson Brady stirred beside her, pulled her toward him, lifted her hair, and kissed the side of her neck.
She said, “It’s … early … you can sleep for another …”
Yuki sighed as Brady ran his hands over her naked body, started her engine, and revved it up.
Pillows went over the side, blankets bunched up at the footboard, and he fitted himself inside her. She cried out and he
said, “I’ve got you.”
He did. He had her good.
Gasping, they bit at each other, moved together in a race that they both won. They finished entangled in bedding and each other, both of them sweating, satisfied, amazed.
“Oh my God.” Yuki sighed. “That was … just … okay.”
Brady laughed. “You’re too much.”
He kissed her again, put his fingers in the thick black curtain of her hair, watched as the strands fell through his fingers.
“I have to go,” he said softly.
“Not without coffee.”
He gave her bottom a smack and got out of bed. Yuki turned on her side and watched Brady walking away from her. She took in his perfect body, his pale hair hanging almost to his shoulders, the simple Celtic cross tattooed on his back.
When the bathroom door closed, Yuki got out of bed and put on a silk robe the color of watermelon, a gift from Brady.
She stepped over the clothes they’d dropped on the floor last night, took one of his clean shirts out of a drawer, put it on the green chair. She listened to the shower and thought about Brady being in it.
Tsutta sakana ni esa wa yaranai, said Keiko Castellano. A man won’t feed the fish he caught.
Shut up, Mom. I love him.
In the kitchen, Yuki opened the cupboard, got out the coffee beans, filled the coffeemaker with water. She put bread in the toaster.
It wasn’t even 6:00 a.m. She didn’t have to be at her desk in the DA’s office until nine. But she didn’t mind getting up with Brady. She wanted to do it, because, jeez, she loved him. It was almost embarrassing how much, but God, she was happy. Maybe for the first time in her adult life.
Nah, no maybe about it. This was definitely the happiest she’d been in twenty years.
Brady came into the kitchen. His tie was knotted, shoulder holster buckled over his blue shirt, and he was shrugging into his jacket. He looked worried, and she knew he was already working on the case that had been tearing at his guts.
She poured coffee, put buttered toast on a plate.
He stirred a lot of sugar into the coffee mug, took a sip. He took another, then put the cup down.
