In the parking lot he saw the truck running, thick exhaust spilling out the back. Karen sat inside, and when he caught her eye, he could see her smiling across the distance.
He put his hands in his pockets and let her draw him home.
No book belongs to just one person. My deepest thanks to:
Scott Miller, my extraordinary agent, who believed in the novel from first reading – and who promptly told me how to make it better. Here’s to a long partnership, my friend.
My remarkable editor, Ben Sevier, who asked questions that were so good that I had to make the answers live up to them, who tirelessly shepherded the story from manuscript to book, and who is a hell of a guy to boot.
All the amazing folks at St. Martin’s, especially Sally Richardson, Matthew Shear, George Witte, Matt Baldacci, Christina Harcar, Kerry Nordling, Dori Weintraub, Rachel Ekstrom, and Jenness Crawford. Thanks also to the art and production teams, who turned a stack of scrubby pages into a beautiful book.
This novel would not have been written were it not for the generous nudging of Patricia Pinianski and Joe Konrath, two of the most giving folks in the biz. Thank you both.
Authors need experts. For questions about dead people, I turned to Dr. Vince Tranchida, New York City Medical Examiner, who eagerly provided wonderfully gruesome details. I also owe a special thanks to the Chicago Police Department, who are good people doing a hard job. Assistant Director Patrick Camden and Detective Kenneth Wiggins put up with many stupid questions, and I’m grateful for it. Any errors are mine, not theirs.
Books grow just like people, and I’m fortunate to have friends who were willing to deal with this one during its pimply adolescence. Big thanks to Jenny Carney, Brad Boivin, and Michael Cook for their early feedback.
Thanks to the members of my writing group, whose suggestions were never short of stellar, and whose names you’ll soon be seeing on bestseller charts.
To my friends, who kept me going with a steady diet of beer and laughter. You know who you are.
To my loving and supportive family, Mom, Dad, and Matthew, who read the manuscript more times than anyone should and who propped me up more times than I ever thought I’d need. Authors are supposed to have miserable family lives, guys. Get with the program.
And lastly, to g.g., my wife and my smile. Living with a novelist can’t be easy, but you always manage to slip a pillow between my head and the walls I tend to hit with it. Thank you, baby.
Marcus Sakey is the acclaimed author of The Blade Itself and At the City’s Edge . His books have been translated into numerous languages, and the film rights have been sold to major studios. Born in Flint, Michigan, he now lives in Chicago with his wife.
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