Pretend You Don't See Her

Lacey Farrell, the heroine of Mary Higgins Clark's 15th novel, is having a bit of an identity crisis. While working as a real estate agent in New York, Lacey witnessed a client's murder, and now she's in hiding with a new name and a new life. But changing her identity doesn't completely remove Lacey from the web of danger and deceit that surrounds the crime; new clues keep popping up that suggest some kind of link between Lacey's family and the murder. Meanwhile, a new man comes into the heroine's life, further complicating an already murky situation. As any fan will tell you, Mary Higgins Clark never fails to deliver plot twists and turns that are as unexpected as they are thrilling. From Library Journal Clark's lucky 13th novel shows that falling in love is hard work when you're in the federal witness protection program.Copyright 1997 Reed Business Information, Inc. From Booklist Lacey Farrell, a Manhattan real-estate agent, gets involved with murder when one of her clients, Isabelle Landi, is killed in front of her. Isabelle has confided in Lacey that she believes the car crash in which her daughter died was no accident. Before Isabelle takes her final breath, she pleads with Lacey to bring pages from her daughter's diary to the girl's father. Lacey does so, but because of what she knows, including her ability to identify the hit man, she lands in the witness-protection program, where she uses her time to find out why Heather and her mother were killed. Lacey is a particularly obtuse heroine, always doing the exact thing that will get her into more trouble, but the story is briskly paced and features a few surprises. Clark's legion of fans will find this pleasing enough, though not top drawer. Ilene Cooper From Kirkus Reviews Just in time for Mother's Day, a fresh bouquet of imperiled female virtue from ever-reliable Clark, who ought to take out a patent. Planning to sell her late daughter Heather Landi's East Side apartment, ex-beauty queen Isabelle Waring makes an appointment with realtor Lacey Farrell to check the place out. But when Isabelle finds and reads Heather's journal in the apartment, she refuses to sell to the promising client Lacey's got waiting in the next room. Too late: The client, who's really a hit man looking for the journal, shoots Isabelle, who only has time before she dies to beg Lacey to read the journal and turn it over to Heather's father, gruff restaurateur Jimmy Landi. So Lacey makes a copy of the journal for Jimmy, then reads it herself before taking it to the police. And when she finally does turn the journal over to the authorities, it doesn't do any good; first the original journal and then some crucial pages from Jimmy's copy disappear from police custody. By this time, the police are treating Lacey like some kind of criminal even as the hit man begins stalking her. The US Attorney relocates Lacey to Minneapolis under the Witness Protection Program, but things are no better there: Lacey's lonely, her mother back in New York keeps blurting out hints of Lacey's location to exactly the plausible male intimates veteran Clark-watchers will duly have noted as the most likely threats to Lacey's safety, and the hit man hasn't lost interest either. Innocence unprotected, cops who actually sound like cops, and an implacable enemy with the momentum of a Metroliner. Even if the final revelation of the hit man's employer is weightless, Clark, by concentrating on what she does best--heavy-breathing menace as the hit man's footfalls echo ever louder--has produced her most successful tale since Remember Me (1994)--six books ago. (First printing of 1.1 million; Literary Guild main selection; author tour) -- Copyright ©1997, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved. Life, death, threats and the perfect date--in her 15th novel Mary Higgins Clark covers a lot of ground. -- The New York Times Book Review, Kimberly B. Marlowe From the Publisher What happens when a young woman, having merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time, is accidentally caught up in a dangerous murder investigation? What happens when she is placed under police protection, forced to give up her identity and move to another part of the country, at least until the killer can be positively identified and apprehended? What happens when in her new life she meets the perfect man, only she can't risk falling in love because she can't tell anyone -- even him, especially him -- who she really is? Pretend You Don't See Her is Mary Higgins Clark's brilliant and terrifying new novel, her fifteenth, and her most chilling and suspense-filled yet. Set in New York and in Minneapolis-St. Paul, it is the story of Lacey Farrell, a young rising star on Manhattan's high-powered and competitive real estate scene. In the course of selling a luxurious skyline coop, Lacey becomes the witness to a murder and hears the dying words of the victim, a woman who is convinced that her attacker was after a journal kept by her daughter up until the day she died in what everyone but her grieving mother believes to have been a tragic accident. Lacey gives the journal to the police, but not before she makes a copy for herself -- an impetuous act that later proves to be almost fatal. Obliged to give up her family, her job, her very identity, Lacey is placed in the witness protection program and sent to live in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area, where she must assume a new life, at least until the killer can be brought to trial. Once there, she meets and quickly finds herself attracted to Tom Lynch, a young radio talk-show host. He likewise is drawn to her -- but Lacey becomes so upset and confused by the life of lies she is forced to live that she tries to break off their burgeoning relationship. How can she commit to him when she can't even tell him her true name? Then one day she discovers that the killer has traced her to Minneapolis and will soon place not only her but everyone around her in dire jeopardy. Realizing that she is no longer safe, she decides to go back to New York, determined to confront the threat to her life head on. Armed with nothing more than her own courage and the ambiguous and mystifying clues found in the journal, Lacey is caught in a fast-paced race against time as she tries to uncover who was behind the deaths of the two women before she, too, is killed -- not realizing that the journal itself is the reason for the murders.... Chilling, spine-tingling suspense is the hallmark of Mary Higgins Clark's novels. In Pretend You Don't See Her , she surpasses herself. MARY HIGGINS CLARK is the author of fourteen novels and three short-story collections, all of which have been bestsellers. She lives in Saddle River, New Jersey. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Pretend You Don't See Her By Mary Higgins Clark Simon & Schuster Copyright ©1997 Mary Higgins ClarkAll right reserved. ISBN: 0684810395 From Chapter 45 After she had given the manager at the Edina Health Club the completed registration forms and her check, Lacey went directly to the squash court and began hitting balls against the wall. She quickly realized that the combination of the previous sleepless night and an earlier long jog had left her exhausted. She kept missing easy returns, and then she fell, badly wrenching her ankle, all in an attempt to connect with a ball she had no chance of hitting. It was typical of her life right now. Disgusted with herself and close to tears, she limped off the court and collected her coat and tote bag from the locker. The door to the manager's office was partially open. Inside, a young couple was sitting at the manager's desk, and a grayhaired man was waiting to speak to her. Lacey could feel her ankle swelling already. For a moment she paused in front of the open door, debating whether to ask the manager if the club kept elastic bandages in its medical supply kit. Then she decided to go straight home and put ice on her ankle instead. As much as she had wanted to get out of her apartment this morning, Lacey realized that all she wanted now was to be back inside, with the door locked and bolted. Earlier that morning, when Lacey had gone out jogging, a smattering of clouds dotted the sky. Now they were filling it, moving so close together as to be seamless. Driving from Edina to Minneapolis, Lacey could tell that a heavy snowfall was imminent. She had a designated parking spot behind her apartment building. She pulled into the space and turned off the engine. She sat for a moment in the silence. Her life was a total mess. Here she was, hundreds of miles away from her family, living an existence that could not be called a life, alone and lonely. She was trapped in a lie, having to pretend to be someone other than herself -- and why? Why? Just because she had been a witness to a crime. Sometimes she wished the killer had seen her there in the closet. She had no desire to die, but it would have been easier than living this way, she thought desperately. I've got to do something about this. She opened the door and got out of the car, careful to favor her throbbing right ankle. As she turned to lock the door, she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was the same emotion she experienced in the nightmare, life moving in slow motion as she tried to scream, but no sound would come. She lunged forward, trying to break away, then gasped and stumbled as a flash of pain like the sting of a hot branding iron seared her ankle. An arm went around her, steadying her. A familiar voice said contritely, "Alice, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you. Forgive me. It was Tom Lynch. Limp with relief, Lacey sagged against him. "Oh Tom...Oh God...I...I'm all right, I just...I guess you startled me." She started to cry. It was so good to feel herself firmly encircled and protected by his arm. She stood there for several moments, not moving, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. Then she straightened and turned to face him. She couldn't do this? not to him, not to herself. "I'm sorry you bothered to come, Tom. I'm going upstairs," she said, making herself breathe normally, wiping away the tears. "I'm coming with you," he told her. We have to talk." "We have nothing to talk about." "Oh but we do," he said. "Starting with the fact that your father is looking all over Minneapolis for you because your mother is dying and wants to make up with you." "What...are...you...talking...about?" Lacey's lips felt rubbery. Her throat constricted to the point where she could barely force the words out of her mouth. "I'm talking about the fact that Ruth Wilcox told me yesterday afternoon some guy had showed up at the gym with your picture, looking for you and claiming to be your father." He's in Minneapolis! Lacey thought. He's going to find me!! "Alice, look at me! Is it true? Was that your father looking for you?" She shook her head, desperate now to be free of him. "Tom, please. Go away." "I will not go away." He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look up at him. Once again, Jack Farrell's voice echoed in Lacey's mind: You put my face in front of the one you want, he said. Admit it. I admit it, she thought, looking up at the firm line of Tom's jaw, the way his forehead was creased with concern for her -- the expression in his eyes. The look you give someone special. Well, I won't let anything happen to you because of it, she promised. If Isabelle Waring's murderer had been able to coax my address out of Ruth Wilcox at Twin Cities Gym, I probably wouldn't be alive right now she thought. So far, so good. But where else was he showing her picture? "Alice, I know you're in trouble, and no matter what it is, I'll stand by you. But I can't be in the dark anymore," Tom's voice urged. "Can't you understand that?" She looked at him. It was such a strange sensation, seeing this man in front of her who clearly had special feelings for her -- love? Maybe And he was exactly the person she had hoped to meet someday. But not now! Not here! Not in this situation. I cannot do this to him, she thought. A car drove into the parking area. Lacey's instinct was to pull Tom down, to hide with him behind her car. I have to get away, she thought. And I have to get Tom away from me. As the approaching car came into full view she saw that the driver was a woman whom she recognized as living in the building. But who would be driving the next car to come into the parking lot? she wondered angrily. It could be him. The first flakes of snow were beginning to fall. "Tom, please go," she begged. "1 have to call home and talk to my mother." "Then that story is true." She nodded, careful not to look at him. "1 have to talk to her. I have to straighten some things out. Can I phone you later?" Finally she looked up. His eyes, troubled and questioning, lingered on her face. "Alice, you will call me?" "I swear I will." "If I can help you, you know --" "Not now, you can't," she said, interrupting him. "Will you honestly tell me just one thing?" "Of course."Is there another man in your life?" She looked into his eyes. "No, there is not." He nodded. "That's all I need to know." Another car was driving into the parking area. Get away from me, her mind screamed. "Tom, I have to call home." "At least let me walk you to the door," he responded, taking her arm. After they had gone a few steps, he stopped. "You're limping." "It's nothing. I stumbled over my own feet." Lacey prayed her face wasn't showing the pain she felt when she walked. Tom opened the door to the lobby for her. 'When will I hear from you?" "In an hour or so." She looked at him again, forcing a smile. His lips touched her cheek. "1 m worried about you. I'm worried for you." He clasped her hands and looked intently into her eyes. "But I'll be waiting for your call. You've given me some great news. And a whole new hope." Lacey waited in the lobby until she saw his dark blue BMW drive away. Then she rushed to the elevator. She did not wait to take off her coat before she called the health club. The gratingly cheerful voice of the manager answered. "Edina Health Club. Hold on, please.' A minute, then a second minute went by. Damn her, Lacey thought, slamming her hand down to break the connection. It was Saturday. There was a chance her mother was home. For the first time in months Lacey dialed the familiar number directly. Her mother picked up on the first ring. Lacey knew she could not waste time. "Mom, who did you tell I was here?" "Lacey? I didn't tell a soul. Why? " Her mother's voice went up in alarm. Didn't deliberately tell a soul, Lacey thought. "Mom, that dinner last night. Who all was there?" "Alex and Kit and lay and Jimmy Landi and his partner, Steve Abbott, and I. Why?" "Did you say anything about me'" "Nothing significant. Only that you'd joined a new health club with a squash court. That was all right, wasn't it?" My God, Lacey thought. "Lacey, Mr. Landi wants very much to talk to you. He asked me to find out if you knew whether the last few pages of his daughter's journal were written on unlined paper." "Why does he want to know that? I gave him a complete copy." "Because he said that if they were, somebody stole those pages from the copy while it was at the police station, and they stole the whole original copy. Lacey, are you telling me that whoever tried to kill you knows you're in Minneapolis?" "Mom, I can't talk. I'll call you later." Lacey hung up. Once again she tried the health club. She did not give the manager a chance to put her on hold this time. "This is Alice Carroll," she interrupted. "Don't?" "Oh, Alice." The manager's voice became solicitous. "Your dad came in looking for you. I took him to the squash court. I thought you were still there. I didn't see you leave. Someone told us you gave your ankle a nasty wrench. Your dad was so worried. I gave him your address. That was all right, wasn't it? He left just a couple of minutes ago." Lacey stopped only long enough to jam the copy of Heather Landi's journal into her tote bag before she half ran, half hopped to the car and headed for the airport. A sharp wind slapped snow against the windshield. Hopefully he won't figure out right away that I've left, she told herself. ['11 have a little time. There was a plane leaving for Chicago twelve minutes after she reached the ticket counter. She managed to get on it just before the gates closed. Then she sat in the plane for three hours on the runway, while they waited for clearance to take off. Copyright © 1997 by Mary Higgins Clark Continues... Excerpted from Pretend You Don't See Her by Mary Higgins Clark Copyright ©1997 by Mary Higgins Clark. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site. Read more