Cold Cold Heart
(Sprache: Englisch)
A thrilling novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author Tami Hoag, one of the most intense suspense writers around (Chicago Tribune).
Dana Nolan was a promising young TV reporter until a notorious serial killer tried to add her to...
Dana Nolan was a promising young TV reporter until a notorious serial killer tried to add her to...
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A thrilling novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author Tami Hoag, one of the most intense suspense writers around (Chicago Tribune).Dana Nolan was a promising young TV reporter until a notorious serial killer tried to add her to his list of victims. Nearly a year has passed since she survived her ordeal, but the physical, emotional, and psychological scars run deep. Struggling with the torment of post-traumatic stress syndrome, plagued by flashbacks and nightmares, Dana returns to her hometown in an attempt to begin to put her life back together. But home doesn t provide the comfort she expects.
Dana s harrowing story and her return to small-town life have rekindled police and media interest in the unsolved case of her childhood best friend, Casey Grant, who disappeared without a trace the summer after their graduation from high school. Terrified of truths long buried, Dana reluctantly begins to look back at her past. Viewed through the dark filter of PTSD, old friends and loved ones become suspects and enemies. Questioning everything she knows, refusing to be defined by the traumas of her past, Dana seeks out a truth that may prove too terrible to be believed...
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***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof***Copyright © 2015 Tami Hoag
Prologue
She should have been dead. After everything he had put her through, she should have died hours before. There had been many moments during the ordeal when she wished she would die, when she wished he would just end the unimaginable suffering he was inflicting on her.
He had done things to her she could never have imagined, would never have wanted to know one human being could be capable of doing to another. He had abused her physically, sexually, and psychologically. He had abducted her, beaten her, tortured her, raped her. Hour after hour after hour.
She didn t really know how much time had passed. Hours? Days? A week? The concept of time had ceased to have any meaning.
She had tried to resist physically, but she had learned resistance was rewarded only with pain. The pain had surpassed anything in her most terrible nightmares. It had surpassed adjectives and gone into a realm of blinding white light and high-pitched sound. Eventually, she had ceased to fight and had found that in seemingly giving up her life, she was able to keep her life.
Where there is life, there is hope.
She couldn t remember where she had heard that. Somewhere, long ago. Childhood.
At one point during the attack she had called for her mother, for her father. She had been overwhelmed with the kind of pure fear and helplessness that stripped away maturity and logic and self-control, reducing her to a screaming mass of raw emotion. Now she couldn t remember ever being a child. She couldn t remember having parents. She could remember only the sharp pain of a knife carving into her flesh, the explosion of pain as a hammer struck her.
She had tried to resist the overwhelming desire to break down mentally, to give herself over and drown in the depths of hopelessness. It
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would have been so much easier to just let go. But he hadn t killed her. Yet. And she wouldn t do the job for him. She continued to choose life.
Where there is life, there is hope.
The words floated through her fractured mind like a ribbon of smoke as she lay on the floor of the van.
Her tormentor was driving. She lay directly behind his seat. He was happily singing along with the radio, as if he didn t have a care in the world, as if there wasn t a beaten, bloody, half-dead woman in the back of his van.
She was more alive than he knew. In giving up fighting, she had reserved strength. In giving up fighting, she had stopped him short of rendering her completely incapacitated. She could still move, though there was something wrong with her coordination and every effort set off nauseating explosions of pain. Her head was pounding. It felt like her brain might burst out of her skull or maybe it already had.
She faded in and out of consciousness, but she could still form thoughts. Many were incomplete or incoherent, but then she would muster as much will and focus as she could, and something would make sense for a second or two.
The cold floor beneath her was numbing some of the pain that wracked her body. The blanket he had thrown over her to hide her offered a cocoon, a place to be invisible. Her wrists were only loosely bound together in front of her with a long, wide red ribbon. He had positioned her with her elbows bent, her hands tucked beneath her chin as if in prayer.
Prayer. She had prayed and prayed and prayed, but no one had come to save her.
He had all the power, all the control. He had killed before, many times, and gotten away with it. He believed he was invincible. He believed he was a genius. He believed he was an artist.
He said she was to be his masterpiece.
She didn t know what that meant. She didn t want to find out. The van hit a
Where there is life, there is hope.
The words floated through her fractured mind like a ribbon of smoke as she lay on the floor of the van.
Her tormentor was driving. She lay directly behind his seat. He was happily singing along with the radio, as if he didn t have a care in the world, as if there wasn t a beaten, bloody, half-dead woman in the back of his van.
She was more alive than he knew. In giving up fighting, she had reserved strength. In giving up fighting, she had stopped him short of rendering her completely incapacitated. She could still move, though there was something wrong with her coordination and every effort set off nauseating explosions of pain. Her head was pounding. It felt like her brain might burst out of her skull or maybe it already had.
She faded in and out of consciousness, but she could still form thoughts. Many were incomplete or incoherent, but then she would muster as much will and focus as she could, and something would make sense for a second or two.
The cold floor beneath her was numbing some of the pain that wracked her body. The blanket he had thrown over her to hide her offered a cocoon, a place to be invisible. Her wrists were only loosely bound together in front of her with a long, wide red ribbon. He had positioned her with her elbows bent, her hands tucked beneath her chin as if in prayer.
Prayer. She had prayed and prayed and prayed, but no one had come to save her.
He had all the power, all the control. He had killed before, many times, and gotten away with it. He believed he was invincible. He believed he was a genius. He believed he was an artist.
He said she was to be his masterpiece.
She didn t know what that meant. She didn t want to find out. The van hit a
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Autoren-Porträt von Tami Hoag
Tami Hoag is the #1 international bestselling author of more than thirty books. There are more than forty million copies of her books in print in more than thirty languages. Renowned for combining thrilling plots with character-driven suspense, Hoag first hit the New York Times bestseller list with Night Sins, and each of her books since has been a bestseller. She lives in California.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Tami Hoag
- 2021, 400 Seiten, Maße: 13,4 x 20,2 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Dutton
- ISBN-10: 1101984465
- ISBN-13: 9781101984468
- Erscheinungsdatum: 27.09.2021
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
Praise for Cold Cold Heart"Chilling and satisfying."
People
A top-notch psychological thriller.
Kirkus Reviews
"[A] chilling psychological thriller."
Publishers Weekly
"An unforgettable read."
RT Book Reviews
"Ms. Hoag weaves the intensifying plot in Cold Cold Heart with the expertise of a master seamstress blind stitching the facts, moving through multiple characters' voices, taking readers on a journey into the inner depths of her characters' minds, and in Hoag style, delivering a walloping ending."
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
More Praise for Tami Hoag and Her Novels
You re going to be staying up late at night as the pages turn with this one.
New York Journal of Books on The Boy
Hoag puts on quite the juggling act here, dazzling us with multiple theories about the boy s murder, numerous potential suspects, and plot twists that keep us just slightly off-balance. A welcome return for a compelling investigative duo.
Booklist on The Boy
With her signature style in building up suspense as the plot develops, Hoag has written a commercial novel which is definitely a joy to read.
Mystery Tribune on The Boy
Every Tami Hoag book is deviously plotted, compulsively page-turning, with dead-on dialogue and twisted characters. You're in the hands of a master with Tami Hoag.
New York Times
The Bitter Season is Tami Hoag at her down-and-dirty best. Authentic, dark, and intense, this is a portrait of flawed characters on both sides of the law that will surprise you and make you laugh as you double-lock your doors.
New York Times bestselling author Tess Gerritsen
Tami Hoag is simply one of the best. And The Bitter Season engrossing, atmospheric, and taut with suspense is the work of a writer at the top her game. A chilling psychological thriller!
New York Times bestselling author Lisa Unger
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