All copies of this title, including those transferred to portable devices and other media, must be deleted/destroyed at the end of the lending period.
Description
Recently, Ridley Jones stepped off a street corner and into an abyss of violence, deception, and fear. She is being a lot more careful about where she steps and trying to get on with her life when another seemingly mundane act- picking up a few envelopes of prints at a photo lab- puts Ridley at the nexus of a global network of crime. A shadowy figure of a man appears in almost every picture she’s taken in the last year, lurking just far enough away to make identification impossible. Everyone from the federal government to the criminal underworld wants to know who the man is- and where he is- and some people are willing to kill to find out.
Now the FBI is at her door, some serious bad guys are following her every move, and the family she once loved and relied on is more distant than ever. Ridley has never felt so confused or alone in her life. Everyone she loves has turned out to be a stranger- she even feels like a stranger to herself. Is she a product of nature or nurture?
At once hunting down a ghost and running for her life, Ridley doesn’t know if she ever had the power to shape her own destiny or if love exists anywhere beyond her imagination. The only thing Ridley knows for sure is that she has to get to the truth about herself and her past if she’s ever going to find her way home.
Charged with relentless intensity and kinetic action, playing out with unnerving suspense on the streets of New York and London, and seen through the terrified but determined eyes of a young woman whose body and heart are pushed to the point of shattering, SLIVER OF TRUTH is another triumph from the New York Times bestselling author of Beautiful Lies.
“Unger's gifts for dialogue and pacing set this far above the standard novel of suspense and will leave many anxiously awaiting her third book.” --PUBLISHERS WEEKLY, starred review
I'm running but I can't run much farther. The pain in my side already has me limping; there's fire in my lungs. I can't hear his footfalls. But I know he's not far away. I know now that he's been right beside me all my life in one way or another. I'm the light; he's the shadow. We've coexisted without ever meeting. If I'd been a good girl, the girl I was raised to be, I never would have known him. But it's too late for regrets.
I'm on Hart Island in the Bronx, a place known as Potter's Field. It's the city cemetery for the unknown and indigent--a grim and frightening place. How we've all wound up here is a long story, but I know the story will end here--maybe just for some, maybe for all of us. A tall abandoned building that seems to sag upon itself looms ahead of me. It's a darker night than I have ever known, in more ways than one. The sliver of moon is hidden behind a thick cloud cover. It's hard to see but I watch as he disappears through a door that hangs crooked on its hinges. I follow.
"Ridley!" The call comes from behind me. But I don't answer. I just keep moving until I am standing at the entrance to the building. I hesitate there, looking at the crooked, sighing structure and wondering if it's not too late to turn around.
Then I see him, up ahead of me. I call out but he doesn't answer me, just turns and slowly starts to move away. I follow. If I valued my life and my sanity, I'd let him get away and hope he did the same for me. We could go back to the way things have been. He dwelling in a world I never even knew existed, me going about my very ordinary life, writing magazine articles, seeing movies, having drinks with friends.
Fear and rage duke it out in my chest. Hatred has a taste and a texture; it burns like bile in my throat. For a moment, I hear the voice of someone I loved: Ridley, you can release the hatred and walk away. It's nothing more than a single choice. We can both do it. We don't need all the answers to live our lives. It doesn't have to be like this. A few minutes later, he was gone.
I know now that those words were lies. Hatred doesn't release. Walking away is not one of my choices. Maybe it never was. Maybe I've been in the path of this freight train all my life, lashed to the tracks, too weak, too foolish, too stubborn to even try to save myself.
As I enter the building, I think I might hear the rumble of boat engines. I feel a distant flutter of hope and wonder if help is coming. I hear my name again and look behind me to see a man who has become my only friend moving unsteadily toward me. He is injured and I know it will take him a while to reach me. I think for a second that I should go to him, help him. But inside I hear movement and the groaning of an unstable structure. My breathing comes shallow and quick. I step deeper inside.
"Stop running, you coward!" I yell into the huge darkness. My voice resonates in the deserted space. "Let me see your face."
My voice bounces off the surfaces around me again. I don't sound scared and heartbroken, but I am. I sound strong and sure. I take the gun from the waist of my jeans. The metal is warm from my skin. In my hand, it feels solid and righteous. This is the second time in my life I've held a gun with the intent to use it. I don't like it any better than the first time, but I'm more confident now, know that I can fire if pressed.
He steps out from the shadows, seems to move silently, to glide like the ghost that he is. I take a step toward him and then stop, raise my gun. I still can't see his face. A milky light has started to shine through the gaping holes in the ceiling as the moon moves through a break in the cloud cover....
Reviews
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There's a lot of mystery but not a sliver of excitement in this story. It's apparent that Ann Marie Lee tries to bring vivacity to her job here, but the task is too great for her winsome and passionate voice. This story needs a well-developed character and some highs and lows--qualities a reader can't make up by herself. But here, with a plot that's unfathomable and a heroine measured until almost the end, one soon loses interest. In this story, Ridley Jones is searching for a secret that involves her fugitive parents, her real father, her brother, a boyfriend, a sinister organization, and an ever present FBI agent. After a while, you wonder why. A.L.H. (c) AudioFile 2007, Portland, Maine
New York Daily News...
"Double feints and triple suspense plays . . . make Sliver of Truth compulsive reading."
