Erika Holzer - Freedom Bridge

United States of America .

With scalding suspense and a plot ripped out of the headlines, Eye for an Eye explores urban violence and retribution.

Karen Newman is a smart savvy executive whose sole contact with violence is abstract, and whose soft-on-crime inclinations are in striking contrast to her hard-headed business acumen.

Until violence strikes a much-loved member of her family and sends her life spinning out of control.

Confronted with the spectacle of street gangs and sadistic young killers free to kill again, an increasingly enraged Karen finds herself the object of recruitment efforts by people who promise “vigilante justice.” Mildly curious, she takes the first tentative step, cynically anticipating a bunch of bat-swinging amateurs — and is caught off guard by the professionalism she encounters.

Despite her initial reluctance, Karen finds herself seduced by what she sees and hears firsthand. Gradually, she is drawn into the inner circle of a fascinating, chillingly organized group. Its name: VICTIMS ANONYMOUS. Its structure: secret cells in far-flung major American cities.

Its motto: Vengeance is mine .

Knowing her particular business expertise is needed to catapult a growing organization into a national phenomenon — a force to be reckoned with — Karen tries to convince herself that Victims Anonymous is a force for good . In the face of mounting evidence that the police and the courts are increasingly unable to cope with violent crime, she no longer needs much convincing.

She makes the ultimate commitment.

It does not waiver until she crosses swords with a man who shares that commitment — a passion for justice that equals her own. A man she must deceive before he can bring the entire edifice crashing down upon the heads of everyone and everything she cares about.

Eye for an Eye is the story of a gutsy woman’s personal struggle to balance genuine compassion for the abandoned victims of a collapsing criminal justice system with a dangerous romance and a growing conviction that vigilantism, however well intended, is a magnet for evil.

Nelson DeMille,best-selling author of The Panther , has said that:

“ Eye for an Eye is a serious and disturbing look at street gangs, urban violence, and the criminal justice system. It is also a story about the uniquely American response to crime—vigilantism.

Eye for an Eye is not so much about America as it is a book of America; a story that grows organically out of the ongoing American obsession with law and order. Erika Holzer, an attorney, understands the system, and more importantly she understands the society she and the rest of us live in. She has created a plot from what could be, and often is, any newspaper headline, and carried it a step further, a step many of us would not take but think about in our darkest moments.

Holzer’s characters are vividly created, impassioned, and interestingly flawed so that we relate to them and believe they exist. The writing is sharp and terse, moves at a fast pace, and the dialogue is snappy and to the point.

Reflections. The diamond at her throat, flashing splinters of orange. The crystal chandelier, out of range of her roaring fire but dancing with candlelight.

Her tight grip on the telephone?

Reflection of a holiday mood gone sour…

“Karen, for God’s sake,” she protested into the phone. “What are you trying to do, scare me to death? Tonight of all nights,” she said, willing her voice to turn calm.

“Utter privacy is a mixed blessing, isn’t it?”

“I love it now,” she lied. “After three years, even a city dweller gets used to the Westchester woods.”

But she never had.

“So much crime, these days. It worries me. I was reading—”

“On the West Side of Manhattan, maybe,” she cut in, “not out here.”

But she’d been reading about it, too. Burglars from New York and NewJersey heading for the suburbs. Looking for bigger game. Burglars with wheels… and what else, guns? Knives?

“Sarah, your alarm system—”

“My security blanket, you mean,” she admitted drily. “We had it upgraded while you were away. Goes off in the police station now. The cops are on the scene in five minutes tops. Hold on while I check the roast.”

On the way to the kitchen, she glanced in the mirror. The full treatment, she thought, pleased with this reflection, at least. Black satin lounging pajamas. Slippers with stiletto-thin heels. Blonde hair looking sleek, straight, and sexy, just the way Mark liked it.

All’s well in the dinner department, she thought, sniffing and prodding, practically sailing back to the living room, her festive mood restored.

“Listen, killjoy,” she said, cocking an ear to the phone, “no more raining on my parade, okay? You’re supposed to say—”

“Happy anniversary, I know. Don’t mind me, dear. Tonight will be very special.”

“Starting with my table. Wish you could see it!”

“As exquisite as that? Draw me a picture.”

“My centerpiece would knock your socks off. Mark’s too, I hope. Masses of tiger lilies, the most glorious shade of orange—”

“In a black vase, of course.”

“Darn right.”

“What else?”

“Candlelight, crystal, and the good china.” She smiled. “Artfully arranged on a lace tablecloth—that wispy silvery one, remember? Goes with the glasses.”

She touched the delicate rim of a smoky, long-stemmed champagne glass. Ran a finger along the intricate pattern of a sterling-silver knife. Picked up the knife just to enjoy the weight of it in her hand.

“I even liberated a couple of place settings from the safe-deposit box—”

She could have bitten her tongue.

“Since when do you keep your sterling in the bank? Have there been any burglaries near you, Sarah?”

“Don’t be silly. People around here play it safe, that’s all.”

People around here don’t want their sterling—not to mention their jewelry—carted off in a pillowcase while they’re out to dinner .

“What are you sighing about?” she asked.

“I just wish Mark didn’t take these night classes.”

“Mark doesn’t take them. They’re assigned. Besides, I’ve never minded.” Another lie. “Don’t start, Karen. You’re making me jumpy all over again.”

“Don’t blame me . You were always jumpy on Halloween.”

“And you’re a big help. Hold on again, okay? I had a hard time getting the fire started and it’s looking a bit feeble.”

Lie number three. She was having a hard time holding her temper. She took her impatience out on a log that her robust fire didn’t need, teetering on the damn heels as she struggled with the iron tongs, hair rippling around her shoulders.

Like liquid gold, Mark would say.

The tongs back in place, she gave the radio dial a defiant twist, then said into the phone, “Mood music.”

“I can hear the lyrics all the way down here. So could your neighbors if you had any.”

“Wise guy. Don’t worry, I switch to Brahms the minute Mark walks in the door.”

“When is he walking in?”

“Best guess? Half an hour. Why don’t we play catch-up while we’re waiting? Tell me about your presentation. Bet you snared the account.”

“Before I even took off my coat.”

“They don’t pay you enough, you know that? When I think—”