Talia March, Pallas Llewellyn, and Amelia Rivers, bonded by a night none of them can remember, are dedicated to uncovering the mystery of what really happened to them months ago—an experience that amplified innate psychic abilities in each of them. The women suspect they were test subjects years earlier, and that there are more people like them—all they have to do is find the list of others who took that same test. When Talia follows up on a lead from Phoebe, a fan of the trio’s podcast, she discovers that the informant has vanished.
Talia isn’t the only one looking for Phoebe, however. Luke Rand, a hunted and haunted man who is chasing the same list that Talia is after, also shows up at the meeting place. It’s clear he has his own agenda, and they are instantly suspicious of each other. But when a killer begins to stalk them, they realize they have to join forces to find Phoebe and the list.
She'd always had a knack for finding misplaced keys, glasses, and pets. She was
fine with that. But her new psychic ability for tracking down the bodies of
those who had died by violence was not only depressing but frequently led to
anxiety attacks and disturbing dreams.
Why couldn't it have been a talent for something more positive-like, say,
picking winning lottery numbers? Why did it have to be dead bodies?
Talia March clenched the dead man's gold cuff link in one hand, gathered her
nerve, and flattened her other hand against the metal side of the
industrial-sized trash bin. She was braced mentally and physically, her core
Pilates-tight; nevertheless, the jolt of psychic lightning rattled her nerves
and her senses. In the past few months she had learned that the energy laid
down by violence always came as a shock.
She had finally figured out that what she detected with her new ability was the
psychic stain of the killer's emotions-or lack thereof-and the pain and fear of
the victim. It made for a toxic brew that seeped into the crime scene and, to
her, was as obvious as a pool of blood.
She was aware of a weak frisson emanating from the cuff link. The owner was
dead but the item that he had worn frequently in life was still infused with
the hollow echo of his vibe.
She could work with almost any object that had belonged to the missing or the
deceased, but over the course of the past several months she had learned that
some materials absorbed and reflected paranormal energy more efficiently than
others. Gold was a particularly strong conductor, almost as good as crystal.
"Shit," she whispered. She took a quick step back. "He's in
there."
Roger Gossard, the head of Gossard Consulting, a crime scene consulting
company, studied the trash bin with a pained expression. "Are you
sure?"
"You hired me for my best guess," she said. "This is it."
Roger grunted but he did not argue or demand more details. He knew better than
to ask her to explain her conclusion. He looked at the unhappy man wearing a
security guard uniform emblazoned with the logo of the company that controlled
the loading dock.
"Okay if we take a look?" Roger said. "We need to find out for
sure if there's a body inside before we call the police."
The security guard shrugged. "Boss says I'm supposed to cooperate but I'm
telling you right now I'm not going into that bin to look for a dead body.
You're on your own."
"Right." Roger switched his attention to the two members of his team
who were waiting for instructions. "Bailey and Thomas, take a look. We
need to make sure."
Grim but resigned, the pair pulled on heavy gloves, climbed into the bin, and
went to work sorting through the trash generated by the several hundred office
workers employed in the building.
Talia retreated to the front of the loading dock and contemplated the view of
the alley. The rain was coming down in the steady way that was typical of
Seattle in the late fall. The heavy skies indicated the weather was not going
to change anytime soon. The Big Gray was just getting started.
In the past she had been comfortable with the drama of the city's dark season.
But the night she had lost to amnesia had changed a lot of things. Now she was
aware of a relentless sense of urgency simmering just beneath the surface, a
sensation that was intensified by the late dawns and early twilights.
She tuned out the noise of the trash bin excavation process and opened her
phone. There was no new text from her mysterious informant. She was starting to
lose hope. Maybe she had been conned. It was a discouraging thought because the
lead had appeared so promising.
"Looks like we found Clayton, boss," Bailey called. "Wrapped in
plastic sheeting. Not a pretty sight."
Excerpted from The Night Island by
Jayne Ann Krentz Copyright © 2024 by Jayne Ann Krentz. Excerpted by permission
of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or
reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Jayne Ann Krentz is the author of more than fifty New York Times bestsellers. She has written contemporary romantic suspense novels under that name and futuristic and historical romance novels under the pseudonyms Jayne Castle and Amanda Quick, respectively. Learn more online at www.jayneannkrentz.com.
I have read a huge number of Ms Krentz's books, (no matter the author's name on the cover) and have never not enjoyed the read. This woman is talented and I have always felt so fortunate that in the past, I found her books. Happy circumstances. Thanks for this review and as always, a spiffy job.
ReplyDeleteYes, She's always wonderful! I have to wedge Sleep No More into my schedule. Thanks, P.J.!
ReplyDeleteI really sounds like this is a series that I will want to wait to read until the last book is out for the over all mystery of that night. But with Jayne Ann Krentz books it is hard to wait. I'm glad I didn't get around to reading Sleep No More.
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ReplyDeleteHer books are always so gripping. I haven't read anything by her lately. This series sounds like something I will enjoy and is the perfect place for me to reading her again. Thank you for the review and the recommendation.
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