From award-winning author Meg Gardiner, co-author of Michael Mann’s One year ago, a shootout in a trendy L.A. club left bartender Harper Flynn’s boyfriend dead, Sheriff Deputy Aiden Garrison shattered, and two gunmen engulfed in flames. But if the case is closed, why is Harper still afraid? Certain that a third gunman escaped and is targeting survivors, Harper pins her last hope on the only person willing to listen. But a traumatic brain injury has left Aiden with a rare and terrifying disorder: a delusion that random people are actually the same person in disguise. As Harper and Aiden delve deeper into the case, Harper fears that the attack might have been more personal than anyone believed. And now her only ally is unstable, paranoid, and mistrustful--because he’s seeing the same enemy everywhere he looks.

Praise for Phantom Instinct
An O, The Oprah Magazine Best Book of the Summer

“A fantastic story, told at breakneck speed…One of this summer’s best reads.” —The Associated Press

“A roller-coaster ride of thrills.”—The Florida Times-Union

“Buckle up for an exciting thrill ride of a novel.”—Bookreporter.com

“Characters as real as your friends and a plot as real as your nightmares.”—#1 New York Times bestselling author Lee Child

“Fast-paced, sharp, and unforgettable.”—New York Times bestselling author Don Winslow

“Should go to the top of your ‘to be read’ pile.”—New York Times bestselling author Karin Slaughter

“Plot twists and pacing that propels.”—The Austin Chronicle

“A suspense-building unpredictability that thriller fans will love.”—Booklist

“This one will keep readers up all night.”—Suspense Magazine

“Never less than breathtaking.”—Kirkus Reviews

Autorentext
Meg Gardiner is the Edgar® Award-winning author of the Evan Delaney series: Kill Chain, Crosscut, Jericho Point, Mission Canyon, and China Lake. Her other novels include The Shadow Tracer, Ransom River, The Nightmare Thief, The Liar’s Lullaby, and The Memory Collector. Originally from Santa Barbara, California, she now lives in Austin, Texas.

Klappentext

From the Edgar® Award-winning author hailed by Stephen King as "the next suspense superstar” comes her new thriller with "a plot as real as your nightmares” (#1 New York Times Bestselling Author Lee Child)...

One year ago, a shootout in a trendy L.A. club left bartender Harper Flynn's boyfriend dead, Sheriff Deputy Aiden Garrison shattered, and two gunmen engulfed in flames. But if the case is closed, why is Harper still afraid?

Certain that a third gunman escaped and is targeting survivors, Harper pins her last hope on the only person willing to listen. But a traumatic brain injury has left Aiden with a rare and terrifying disorder: a delusion that random people are actually the same person in disguise.

As Harper and Aiden delve deeper into the case, Harper fears that the attack might have been more personal than anyone believed. And now her only ally is unstable, paranoid, and mistrustful—because he's seeing the same enemy everywhere he looks.

Zusammenfassung
From award-winning author Meg Gardiner, co-author of Michael Mann’s Heat 2

One year ago, a shootout in a trendy L.A. club left bartender Harper Flynn’s boyfriend dead, Sheriff Deputy Aiden Garrison shattered, and two gunmen engulfed in flames. But if the case is closed, why is Harper still afraid?

Certain that a third gunman escaped and is targeting survivors, Harper pins her last hope on the only person willing to listen. But a traumatic brain injury has left Aiden with a rare and terrifying disorder: a delusion that random people are actually the same person in disguise.

As Harper and Aiden delve deeper into the case, Harper fears that the attack might have been more personal than anyone believed. And now her only ally is unstable, paranoid, and mistrustful—because he’s seeing the same enemy everywhere he looks.

Leseprobe
This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof

Copyright © 2014 Meg Gardiner

 
1  

When it started, Harper Flynn had a fifth of vodka in her hand, six shot glasses lined up on the bar in front of her, and a stinging cut on her arm from a broken beer bottle. Music rained through the refurbished warehouse, a sheet of noise. Harper poured the martini into a chilled glass. Down the crowded bar, a banker waved his empty highball glass and a twenty. She nodded. Macallan, neat, with a Stella back—she’d get to him. She’d get to them all. Eleven p.m. and she was halfway through her shift.

She slid the martini glass toward the man in the suit. “Fourteen-fifty.”

He frowned and shouted over the band. “For an ounce of vodka and an olive?”

She smiled. “For turning you into James Bond.” And for not spitting in it.

The dance floor was a swerving mass of spangled people. On the walls, flat screens projected glossy music videos. In booths and at tables along the balcony, cooler customers leaned back, holding court over bottles of Bollinger. The stage lights skewed the space between white glare and murky corners. The warehouse windows were milky with moonlight, pierced by occasional Los Angeles headlights.

The suit stroked the stem of the martini glass. “I’ll pay four bucks.”

“Fourteen-fifty,” Harper said, still smiling, but both hands on the bar now.

She wore a black cotton blouse, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and black jeans he couldn’t see, because he was too busy trying to Jedi mind-trick her buttons open. Next to him, a woman leaned back, laughing, hand to her chest.

From the crowd, Drew appeared behind the suit. Eyes on Harper, shoulders square, as though he was lining up to head-butt the man.

Drew leaned toward the guy’s ear. “How’s your drink?”

The man looked up at him, several inches. Noticed the black shirt, the chilly eyes, the cornerback’s body.

Harper said, “His drink’s about to be paid for.”

Maybe half a second the guy held on, wanting to yank her chain again. Then he slapped fifteen bucks on the bar and skulked off.

Drew smiled. “He thought I was your boss.”

That smile was wicked, and overtly pleased.

“Never,” she said. “Not even when we play dress-up later on.”

He didn’t work there. He only worked his way under her skin, into her thoughts, her days, her nights. Now he was laughing. She nodded at the far end of the bar and walked down. He followed.

He slid her employee swipe card into her hand. “Thanks.”

She clipped the card to her belt, quietly, her back turned to the club’s CCTV camera. “What’s it like outside?”

“Zoo. Line around the block, Security’s wanding guys and carding teenage girls.”

“But they’re still letting people in?”

He raised his eyebrows. The walls seemed to bulge under the press of the crowd. Fire limit was twelve hundred. That many seemed to be clamoring for drinks.

Harper said, “Your sister’s not out there, is she?”

He laughed. “Piper might be able to fake her way past security, but she knows you’re working. You’re scarier than any bouncer.”

“That’s my motto. Now buy a drink. And tip me big.”

Drew had borrowed her swipe card so he could avoid the hassle of security at the front entrance when he came back in. He eyed the bottles arrayed behind her.

She added, “And no, you may not challenge me to mix the wors…