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Since I pretty much can’t forget anything, it’s not likely I’d forget you, is it, Mary?” He patted himself on both cheeks, working to remove the fuzziness from his mind. Then his thoughts settled on the timing of the call, which was in itself a warning. You mean I can put sentences together. The…me-medications help me with that, sometimes. This is one of those times. I’m…not usually like this. I’m usually… not good.” He was a consultant with the FBI. Long before that he had suffered a near-fatal brain injury while playing professional football. His altered brain held two new attributes which, up to that point, he hadn’t even known about and had no reason to: hyperthymesia, or perfect recall; and synesthesia, which caused him to pair certain things with unlikely colors. In his case it was dead bodies linked with a shade of electric blue. After his football career ended he had become a policeman and then a detective in his hometown; thus, seeing dead bodies was not all that unusual. He sighed as the tragic sincerity of her words hit him especially hard. “I know, Mary. I understand why you feel that way.”
Another David Baldacci book that was a blast to read. It's Long Shadows and I received it from Pan Macmillan via Netgalley. It will be published on the 10th of November. A single shot, which he believed—because he knew Lancaster—had been delivered with deliberate care and competent accuracy. She would have chosen the temple, the chin, or the open mouth as her entry point. Any one of those would get the job done. He said the words he needed to say to his wife and child, and then rose from the cold ground and glanced to the left. There was an empty plot there.He knew exactly what she was referring to. “It seems to,” he answered. “But everyone’s mind changes, Mary, healthy or not. Nothing is static. Normal or not, whatever normal is.” A thriller with bloody murders and plenty of suspects and featuring an unlikely partnership between two FBI investigators. My only gripe with Baldacci's books is that there inevitably comes a point when they're over, and that he only publishes two of them a year. I always enjoy reading Baldacci, and this one was the best in a while among many excellent ones. He was about to speak again, to convince her to wait for help. He had his lines ready. He was about to deliver them. They would make her put the gun down, he was sure of it. He had still been on the line when the police had arrived at Lancaster’s house. He had talked first to the officer, and then the detective, a man he knew from the old days. There had been sadness exchanged on the loss of a life well known to them, a grudging acceptance of the choice made, and of the motive behind it.
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy. I just wanted to hear your voice. It just seemed so important to me right now. I’ve been working up the courage to call you.”
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Mary Lancaster, at least in her mind, could not have committed a graver sin than not remembering that her daughter existed. He was certain that was what had placed the finger on the trigger and given her the strength to pull it.
He thought fast. Surely the aide would have called the police. Surely, they were already on their way there. I know, Mary. And I wish you didn’t have to deal with it.” He stopped and struggled to come up with more sympathetic words; it was a task that would have been easy for his old self, and nearly impossible for his current one. “I…I wish there was a cure.”
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She cut in. “Earl doesn’t know that I am alone. He wouldn’t want that. He’s normally very careful about that.” It’s so difficult to understand time, Amos, night and then day. But then, everything is very difficult for me to understand right now. And…it’s so very frightening because…every day there seems to…be less and less of me…th-there.” I have a gun, Amos. My old service automatic. I haven’t held it in years. But it fits my hand so fine. I remembered the gun safe combination, can you believe that? After I forgot pretty much everything else, I remembered that. I suppose it was…an omen of sorts,” she added offhandedly. But also not alike,” she retorted in a tone she hadn’t used before. It was an escalation of sorts, at least he took it that way.
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