First time in paperback from the no.1 New York Times bestselling author--and "readers are going to love it."
A terrifying Lucas Davenport thriller from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Extreme Prey. They call them Travelers. They drift from city to city, always staying on the move. Now somebody is murdering them, one by one. When Lucas Davenport's adopted daughter, Letty, gets a phone call from a female Traveler she'd befriended in San Francisco, Letty urges her father to investigate. The woman s male companion is missing. And the woman is very afraid.
Though he suspects Letty's getting played, Lucas volunteers to help. Little does he know, in the days to come, he ll embark upon an odyssey through a subculture unlike any he s ever seen, a trip that will not only put the two of them in danger but just may change the course of his life.
Praise for John Sandford s Prey Novels Relentlessly swift...genuinely suspenseful...excellent.
Los Angeles Times Sandford is a writer in control of his craft.
Chicago Sun-Times Excellent...compelling...everything works.
USA Today Grip-you-by-the-throat thrills...a hell of a ride.
Houston Chronicle Crackling, page-turning tension...great scary fun.
The New York Daily News Enough pulse-pounding, page-turning excitement to keep you up way past bedtime.
Minneapolis Star Tribune One of the most engaging characters in contemporary fiction.
Detroit News Positively chilling.
St. Petersburg Times Just right for fans of
The Silence of the Lambs.
Booklist One of the most horrible villains this side of Hannibal.
Richmond Times-Dispatch Ice-pick chills...excruciatingly tense...a double-pumped roundhouse of a thriller.
Kirkus Reviews
John Sandford is the pseudonym of Pulitzer Prize winning journalist John Camp. He is the author of the Prey novels, the Kidd novels, the Virgil Flowers novels,
The Night Crew, and
Dead Watch. He lives in New Mexico.
Chapter One
Skye and Henry stood on a corner of Union Square on a fading San Francisco afternoon in early June, the occasional odor of popcorn swirling through, trying to busk up a few dollars. Skye saw the devil go by in his black 85 T-top, crooked smile, ponytail, twisty little braids in his beard. His skinny blond girlfriend sat beside him, tats running across her bare shoulders like grapevines, front teeth filed to tiny sharp points. Skye turned away, a chill running down her back.
Henry was strumming on a fifty-dollar acoustic guitar he d bought at a pawn shop. Skye played her harmonica and kept time with a half-tambourine strapped to one foot, jangling out into the evening, doing their version of
St. James Infirmary, Henry banging between chords and struggling through,
When I die, bury me in a high-topped Stetson hat...He did not sound like any kind of black blues singer from the Mississippi Delta. He sounded like a white punk from Johnson City, Texas, which he was.
Skye was stocky with high cheekbones and green eyes. She wore an earth-colored loose knit wrap over a Sixties olive-drab Army shirt, corporal s stripes still on the sleeves, and gray cargo pants over combat boots. Her hair was apricot-colored and tangled, with a scraggly braid hanging down her back.
Henry was a tall apple-cheeked man/boy with a perpetually smiley face, dressed in a navy blue Mao jacket, buttoned to the throat, and matching slacks, and high-topped sneakers. Their packs sat against the wall of the building behind them, big, capable nylon bags, with a peeled-pine walking stick attached to one side of hers.
Put a ten-piece jazz band on my tail-gate to raise hell as we roll along...They both smelled bad. They washed themselves every morning in public bathrooms, but that didn t eliminate the musty stink of their clothes. A laundromat cost money, which they didn t have at the moment. A cigar box on the sidewalk held five dollar bills and a handful of change. They d put in two of the dollar bills themselves, to encourage contributions, to suggest that their music might be worth listening to.
They weren t the worst of the buskers on the square, but they were not nearly the best, and in terms of volume, they couldn t compete with the horn players.
As Henry wound down through the song, his shaky baritone breaking from time to time, Skye noticed the young woman leaning on a fire hydrant, watching them.
Was she with the devil? She was the kind he went for. Thin but hot. Not blonde, though. The devil went for blondes.The young woman casually dressed in a loose, multi-colored blouse, jeans, and sneakers, each of those separate components suggested money: the blouse looked as though it might be real silk, the jeans fit perfectly, and even the sneakers suggested a secret sneaker store, one that only rich people knew about.
Her dark hair had been styled by somebody with talent.
Skye thought, Maybe with the devil but if not, maybe good for a five? Even a ten? A ten would buy dinner and a cup of coffee in the morning...
Henry gave up on the St. James Infirmary, said, Fuck this. We ain t doing no good.
Don t have enough cash to eat. Let s give it another ten minutes. How about that Keb Mo thing?
Don t know the words yet... He looked around the square. We should have gone up to the park. Can t fight these fuckin horns.
The young woman, who d been leaning against the fire hydrant, ambled up to them. She smiled and nodded to Henry, but spoke to Skye. I don t give money to buskers...or panhandlers...because I m afraid they ll spend it on dope. I got better things to do with it.
W
Über den Autor
John Sandford is the pseudonym of Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist John Camp. He is the author of the Prey novels, the Kidd novels, the Virgil Flowers novels, The Night Crew, and Dead Watch. He lives in New Mexico.
Klappentext
A terrifying Lucas Davenport thriller from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Extreme Prey.
They call them Travelers. They drift from city to city, always staying on the move. Now somebody is murdering them, one by one. When Lucas Davenport's adopted daughter, Letty, gets a phone call from a female Traveler she'd befriended in San Francisco, Letty urges her father to investigate. The woman's male companion is missing. And the woman is very afraid.
Though he suspects Letty's getting played, Lucas volunteers to help. Little does he know, in the days to come, he'll embark upon an odyssey through a subculture unlike any he's ever seen, a trip that will not only put the two of them in danger-but just may change the course of his life.
