New York attorney Trevor Mann’s world shatters when he receives a phone call telling him his girlfriend has been shot dead in a mugging. But the circumstances point to something more calculated than a random attack.
Claire was a New York Times journalist and Trevor is convinced she had unearthed a secret so shocking that she was murdered to keep it from coming to light. Chasing Claire’s leads, Trevor will risk everything to discover what exactly she was killed for.
It’s time to find out the truth, or die.
As I sit in here in the minutes following the ending of this book, I can’t help but wonder, “What the hell did I just read?” I’ll admit, the beginning of the book was a bit of an emotional roller coaster. I found myself rolling my eyes at Trevor Mann’s perfect relationship and I had an odd sense of irony creeping into my gut. After all, many of Patterson’s books revolve around relationships and I had no interest in reading about yet another crime fighting/investigating duo’s journey to truth and justice. Fortunately, that feeling was quickly squashed as his girlfriend is murdered during a fake robbery.
From there I found myself intrigued as Trevor tries to retrace Claire’s path, in order to find out who killed her and why. That is until Patterson started in on the stereotypical racial, middle eastern terrorist bull. Somehow, this book with such promise, turned into yet another piece of crap. In fact, the book completely derailed on page 90 and there was never a redeeming moment in it. I’m almost willing to bet this is based on JP’s personal views on this country’s views on privacy, political scandals and conspiracies. This can be seen as he entangles in the CIA, powerful cabinet members and the NSA into his conspiracy theory. Even Snowden’s whistle blowing makes it onto the page as well as 9/11. All for the purpose of explaining other character’s motives throughout the book. These are weak and overused excuses for these kinds of books and in the end, the mention of these events just leaves a nasty taste in your mouth.
I suppose the book would have been more enjoyable had Trevor had more page time with the mysterious genius, Owen. But even he couldn’t stand to grace these pages for more than a few chapters. Shame, because they totally could have made an entertaining team… you know, if they weren’t so well trained with weapons and unnaturally lucky in life and death situations.