You have good reason to be afraid. . . .
It was a case that haunts Bobby Dodge to this day—the case that nearly killed him and changed his life forever. Now, in an underground chamber on the grounds of an abandoned Massachusetts mental hospital, the gruesome discovery of six mummified corpses resurrects his worst nightmare: the return of a killer he thought dead and buried. There’s no place to run. . . . Bobby’ s only lead is wrapped around a dead woman’s neck. Annabelle Granger has been in hiding for as long as she can remember. Her childhood was a blur of new cities and assumed identities. But what—or who—her family was running from, she never knew. Now a body is unearthed from a grave, wearing a necklace bearing Annabelle’s name, and the danger is too close to escape. This time, she’s not going to run. You know he will find you. . . .
The new threat could be the dead psychopath’s copycat, his protégé—or something far more terrifying. Dodge knows the only way to find him is to solve the mystery of Annabelle Granger, and to do that he must team up with his former lover, partner, and friend D. D. Warren from the Boston P.D. But the trail leads back to a woman from Bobby’s past who may be every bit as dangerous as the new killer—a beautiful survivor-turned-avenger with an eerie link to Annabelle. From its tense opening pages to its shocking climax, Hide is a thriller that delves into our deepest, darkest fears. Where there is no one to trust. Where there is no place left to hide.
About the Author
Lisa Gardner is the New York Times bestselling author of thirteen novels. Her Detective D. D. Warren novels include Live to Tell, Hide, Alone, and The Neighbor, winner of the International Thriller Writers’ Award. Her FBI Profiler novels include Say Goodbye, Gone, The Killing Hour, The Next Accident, and The Third Victim. She lives with her family in New England.
Read an Excerpt
By Lisa Gardner
BantamCopyright © 2007 Lisa Gardner
All right reserved.
My father explained it to me the first time when I was seven years old: The world is a system. School is a system. Neighborhoods are a system. Towns, governments, any large group of people. For that matter, the human body is a system, enabled by smaller, biological subsystems.
Criminal justice, definitely a system. The Catholic Church–don't get him started. Then there's organized sports, the United Nations, and of course, the Miss America Pageant.
"You don't have to like the system," he lectured me. "You don't have to believe in it or agree with it. But you must understand it. If you can understand the system, you will survive."
A family is a system.
I'd come home from school that afternoon to discover both of my parents standing in our front room. My father, a professor of mathematics at MIT, was rarely home before seven. Now, however, he stood next to my mother's prized floral sofa, with five suitcases stacked neatly by his feet. My mother was crying. When I opened the front door, she turned away as if to shield her face, but I could still see her shoulders shaking.
Both of my parents were wearing heavy wool coats, which seemed odd, given the relatively warm October afternoon.
My father spoke first: "You need to go into your room. Pick two things. Any two things you want. But hurry, Annabelle; we don't have much time."
My mother'sshoulders shook harder. I set down my backpack. I retreated to my room, where I stared at my little pink-and-green painted space.
Of all the moments in my past, this is the one I would most like to have back. Three minutes in the bedroom of my youth. Fingers skimming over my sticker-plastered desk, skipping over framed photos of my grandparents, hopscotching past my engraved silver-plated brush and oversize hand mirror. I bypassed my books. Didn't even consider my marble collection or stash of kindergarten art. I remember making a positively agonizing choice between my favorite stuffed dog and my newest treasure, a bridal-dressed Barbie. I went with my dog, Boomer, then grabbed my cherished baby blankie, dark pink flannel with a light pink satin trim.
Not my diary. Not my stash of silly, doodle-covered notes from my best friend, Dori Petracelli. Not even my baby album, which would've at least given me photos of my mother for all the years to come. I was a young, frightened child, and I behaved childishly.
I think my father knew what I would choose. I think he saw it all coming, even back then.
I returned to our family room. My father was outside, loading the car. My mom had her hands wrapped around the pillar that divided the family room from the eat-in kitchen. For a minute, I didn't think she'd let go. She would take a stand, demand that my father stop this foolishness.
Instead, she reached out and stroked my long dark hair. "I love you so much." She grabbed me, hugging me fiercely, cheeks wet against the top of my head. The next moment, she pushed me away, wiping briskly at her face.
"Outside, honey. Your father's right–we have to be quick."
I followed my mother to the car, Boomer under my arm, blankie clutched in both hands. We took our usual places–my father in the driver's seat, my mother riding shotgun, me in the back.
My father backed our little Honda out of the drive. Yellow and orange leaves swirled down from the beech tree, dancing outside the car window. I spread my fingers against the glass as if I could touch them.
"Wave at the neighbors," my father instructed. "Pretend everything is normal."
That's the last we ever saw of our little oak-dotted cul-de-sac.
A family is a system.
We drove to Tampa. My mother had always wanted to see Florida, my father explained. Wouldn't it be nice to live amid palm trees and white sandy beaches after so many New England winters?
Since my mother had chosen our location, my father had picked our names. I would now be called Sally. My father was Anthony and my mother Claire. Isn't this fun? A new town and a new name. What a grand adventure.
I had nightmares in the beginning. Terrible, terrible dreams where I would wake up screaming, "I saw something, I saw something!"
"It's only a dream," my father would attempt to soothe me, stroking my back.
"But I'm scared!"
"Hush. You're too young to know what scared is. That's what daddies are for."
We didn't live amid palm trees and white sandy beaches. My parents never spoke of it, but as an adult looking back, I realize now that a Ph.D. in mathematics couldn't very well pick up where he left off, especially under an assumed identity. Instead, my father got a job driving taxis. I loved his new job. It meant he was home most of the day, and it seemed glamorous to be picked up from school in my own personal cab.
The new school was bigger than my old one. Tougher. I think I made friends, though I don't remember many specifics about our Florida days. I have more a general sense of a surreal time and place, where my afternoons were spent being drilled in self-defense for first-graders and even my parents seemed foreign to me:
My father, constantly buzzing around our one-bedroom apartment. "What'd you say, Sally? Let's decorate a palm tree for Christmas! Yes, sir, we're having fun now!" My mother, humming absently as she painted our family room a bright shade of coral, giggling as she bought a swimsuit in November, seeming genuinely intrigued as she learned to cook different kinds of flaky white fish.
I think my parents were happy in Florida. Or at least determined. My mother decorated our apartment. My father resumed his hobby of sketching. On the nights he didn't work, my mother would pose for him beside the window, and I would lie on the couch, content to watch my father's deft strokes as he captured my mother's teasing smile in a small charcoal sketch.
Until the day I came home from school to find suitcases packed, faces grim. No need to ask this time. I went into my room on my own. Grabbed Boomer. Found my blankie. Then retreated to the car and climbed in the back.
It was a long time before anyone said a word.
A family is a system.
To this day, I don't know how many cities we lived in. Or how many names I assumed. My childhood became a blur of new faces, new towns, and the same old suitcases. We would arrive, find the cheapest one-bedroom apartment. My father would set out the next day, always coming home with some kind of job–photo developer, McDonald's manager, salesclerk. My mother would unpack our meager belongings. I would be shuffled off to school.
I know I stopped talking as much. I know my mom did, too.
Only my father remained relentlessly cheerful. "Phoenix! I've always wanted to experience the desert. Cincinnati! Now, this is my kind of town. St. Louis! This will be the place for us!"
I don't remember suffering any more nightmares. They simply went away or were pushed aside by more pressing concerns. The afternoons I came home and found my mother passed out on the sofa. The crash courses in cooking because she could no longer stand up. Brewing coffee and forcing it down her throat. Raiding her purse for money so I could buy groceries before my father returned from work.
I want to believe he had to know, but to this day I'm not sure. It seemed for my mother and me at least, the more we took on other names, the more we gave away of ourselves. Until we became silent, ethereal shadows following in my father's blustery wake.
She made it until I was fourteen. Kansas City. We'd lasted nine months. My father had risen to manager in the automotive department of Sears. I was thinking of going to my first dance.
I came home. My mother–Stella, she was called then–was facedown on the sofa. This time no amount of shaking woke her up. I have a vague memory of racing across the hall. Of banging on our neighbor's door.
"My mother, my mother, my mother!" I screamed. And poor Mrs. Torres, who'd never been granted a smile or wave from any of us, threw open her door, bustled across the hall, and hands flying to her suddenly wet eyes, declared my mother dead.
Cops came. EMTs. I watched them remove her body. Saw the empty orange prescription bottle slip out of her pocket. One of the officers picked it up. He gave me a pitying look.
"Someone we should call?"
"My father will be home soon."
He left me with Mrs. Torres. We sat in her apartment, with its rich smells of jalape--o peppers and corn tamales. I admired the brightly striped curtains she had hanging on her windows and the bold floral pillows covering her worn brown sofa. I wondered what it would be like to have a real home again.
My father arrived. Thanked Mrs. Torres profusely. Ushered me away.
"You understand we can't tell them anything?" he kept saying over and over again, once we were safely tucked back inside our apartment. "You understand we have to be very careful? I don't want you saying a word, Cindy. Not one word. This is all very, very tricky."
When the cops returned, he did the talking. I heated up chicken noodle soup in the tiny kitchenette. I wasn't really hungry. I just wanted our apartment to smell like Mrs. Torres's apartment. I wanted my mom to be back home.
I found my father crying later. Curled up on the sofa, holding my mother's tattered pink robe. He couldn't stop. He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
That was the first night my father slept in my bed. I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't like that.
A family is a system.
We waited three months for my mother's body. The state wanted an autopsy. I never did understand it all. But one day we had my mom back. We accompanied her from the morgue's office to the funeral home. She was put in a box labeled with someone else's name, then sent into the fire.
My father purchased two small glass vials that dangled from chains. One for him. One for me.
"This way," he said, "she can always be close to our hearts."
Leslie Ann Granger. That was my mother's real name. Leslie Ann Granger. My father filled the vials with ashes, and we put them around our necks. The rest of her, we turned loose into the wind.
Why buy a tombstone that would only cement a lie?
We returned to the apartment, and this time my father didn't have to ask; I had packed our suitcases three months earlier. No Boomer and blankie this time. I had placed them in my mother's wooden box and sent them with her into the flames.
Once your mother is dead, it is time to be done with childish things.
I chose thename Sienna. My father would be Billy Bob, but I would allow him to use B.B. He rolled his eyes but played along. Since I'd done the honors with the names, he chose the city. We headed for Seattle; my father had always wanted to see the West Coast.
We did better in Seattle, each in our own way. My father returned to Sears and, without ever disclosing that he'd worked at one before, was taken to be a complete natural who flew up the managerial ranks. I enrolled in yet another overcrowded, underfunded public school, where I disappeared into the nameless, faceless B-average masses.
I also committed my first act of rebellion: I joined a church.
The small Congregational church one block from our home. I walked by it every day to and from school. One day, I poked my head in. The second day, I took a seat. The third day, I found myself talking to the reverend.
Will God let you into Heaven, I wanted to know, if you were buried under the wrong name?
I talked to the reverend for a long time that afternoon. He had bottle-thick glasses. Sparse gray hair. A kind smile. When I got home, it was after six, my father was waiting, and there was no food on the table.
"Where were you?" he demanded.
"I got held late–"
"Do you know how worried I've been?"
"I missed the bus. I was talking to a teacher about a homework assignment. I'm . . . I had to walk all the way home. I didn't want to bother you at work." I was babbling, my cheeks flushed, not sounding anything like myself.
My father frowned at me for a long time. "You can always call me," he said abruptly. "We're in this together, kiddo."
He ruffled my hair.
I missed my mother.
Then I walked into the kitchen and started the tuna casserole.
Lying, I've discovered, is as addictive as any drug. Next thing I knew, I'd told my father I'd joined the debate team. This, of course, gave me any number of afternoons I could spend at the church, listening to the choir practice, talking to the reverend, simply absorbing the space.
I'd always had long dark hair. My mother used to braid it for me when I was a child. As an adolescent, however, I had relegated it to an impenetrable curtain I let hang over my face. One day, I decided my hair was blocking the true beauty of the stained glass, so I walked to the corner barbershop and had it chopped off.
My father didn't speak to me for a week.
And I discovered, sitting in my church, watching my neighbors come and go, that my oversize sweatshirts were too drab, my baggy jeans ill-fitting. I liked people in bright colors. I liked the way it brought attention to their faces and made you notice their smiles. These people looked happy. Normal. Loving. I bet there wasn't a three-second delay every time someone asked them their name.
So I bought new clothes. For the debate team. And I started spending every Monday night at the soup kitchen–school requirement, I told my father. Everyone's got to fulfill so many hours of community service. There happened to be a nice young man who also volunteered there. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Matt Fisher.
Matt took me to the movies. I don't remember what was playing. I was aware of his hand on my shoulder, the sweaty feel of my own palms, the hitch to my breath. After the movies, we went for ice cream. It was raining. He held his coat over my head.
And then, tucked inside his cologne-scented jacket, he gave me my first kiss.
I floated home. Arms wrapped around my waist. Dreamy smile upon my face.
My father greeted me at the front door. Five suitcases loomed behind him.
"I know what you've been doing!" he declared.
"Shhhh," I said, and put a finger to his lips. "Shhhh."
I danced past my stunned father. I drifted into my tiny, windowless room. And for eight hours I lay on my bed and let myself be happy.
I still wonder about Matt Fisher sometimes. Is he married now? Has two-point-two kids? Does he ever tell stories about the craziest girl he ever knew? Kissed her one night. Never saw her again.
My father was gone when I got up in the morning. He returned around twelve, slapping the fake ID into my hand.
"And I don't want to hear it about the names," he said as I arched a brow at my new identity as Tanya Nelson, daughter of Jeremy. "Trying to get paperwork at a moment's notice already set me back two grand."
"But you picked the names."
"They were all the guy could give me."
"But you brought home the names," I insisted.
"Fine, fine, whatever."
He already had a suitcase in each hand. I stood firm, arms crossed, face implacable. "You picked the names, I pick the city."
"Once we're in the car."
"Boston," I said.
His eyes went wide. I could tell he wanted to argue. But rules are rules.
A family is a system.
Excerpted from Hide by Lisa Gardner Copyright © 2007 by Lisa Gardner. 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.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Annabelle Granger and her parents have led a life on the run since Annabelle was seven years old. She and her parents rarely lived anywhere for more than a couple of years, new names, new identities. She never knew why. Twenty-five years later, her parents dead, she comes back to Boston where she last felt free and comfortable. In Boston she lives in a somewhat reclusive state, just in case. A shocking news report that Annabelle Granger is dead, part of a gruesome crime scene involving six children buried in an underground tomb on the grounds of the closed down State Mental Hospital, causes Annabelle to come forward. Annabelle, now known as Tanya, tells Detectives Bobby Dodge and D.D. Warren her mortifying story. The investigation of the serial killings reveals more than one suspect. Annabelle insists on being part of the investigation, and ends up reclaiming her name and her life. This is fast-paced and completely engrossing. I loved all the characters and I haven't read one Lisa Gardner book that hasn't kept me completely enthralled, entertained, and in suspense!
Mass. State Police Detective Bobby Dodge is called to the scene of a gruesome mass murder on the grounds of the old state mental hospital. The bodies of six girls are found in a chamber. Their bodies have begun to liquify. Only one body is temporarily identified as Annabelle Granger from a name on a locket. However, a woman reads the story and tells police she is Annabelle. She had given the locket to her friend twenty five years ago. She also tells police that someone had been looking into her window when she was age seven and her parents took this with such fear that they moved away to protect her. Another woman has the same appearance as Annabelle and she was also kidnapped and placed in a chamber but hunters heard her cries and rescued her. She was able to identify her kidnapper and he was inprisoned. The search goes to the mental hospital and former patients. Two men are identified as suspects. We learn of what they did that made them placed in a mental institution. Both men are now free and the police would like to question them but cannot find them. Gardner has done a splendid job keeping the reader guessing as to who the killer is and why they might have been after Annabelle. The author gives us a surprise that pulls everything together nicely. A well done novel. Highly recommended.
I read the first one in this series and loved it so much that I bought this one. I couldn't put it down. I'll be looking for the next one in the series....
Ms. Klausner should try really reading the book!!!!!!!! I will tell you the book is great and read ALONE before you read this one to get the true impact. Lisa Gardner takes her writing to a new level with these two books. There is a serial killer and 'it' is a very bad person. Keep the lights on and read this one into the wee hours.
I downloaded this initially because I just got a Nook and wanted some cheap books to read. Hide was more than I expected! Good plot, solid story telling and likeable characters. It kept me reading all the way thru and with no let down at the end.
ahh its great to know that other people out there spend all night or all day trying to finish Mrs Lisa Gardner's books. she is a marvolus writer keeps readers on the edge and salvating for more. I honestly can say that an author who is able to have readers reading all night dying to get to the end is a true blessing and gift. Mrs Gardner has become my new fave author I spread her name where ever I go. two thumbs up!!
Wow! This was an excellent suspense story! So good, it had me on the edge my seat biting my nails off! Now, this is an extremely good. It is a suspenseful thriller, a great mystery read and all the suspects of who done it's will keep your but stuck to your chair until you have finished it! I loved it!
My first time reading a Lisa Gardner book was when I read the 1st book in the series, Alone, a while back. I remember that being really good but this book was just simply AMAZING!! I think I'm a pretty tough critic, especially when it comes to suspense novels and just how suspenseful they are. However, this book was one that I literally couldn't put down & at one point, even shook my head saying "OMG!" out loud!! It's THAT good! She is definitely a great writer. The only thing that can be confusing is that she writes some of the book in 3rd person and some in 1st person... That was a little different for me but it didn't matter. GREAT BOOK!!! Just started "The Neighbor" and can't wait to really get into it!!
This is the first book I've ever read from Lisa Gardner and happen to get it from a friend so I wasn't sure what to expect but after I read it nonstop I had to have the rest of her books. It was AWESOME.
This is one of Lisa Gardner's scariest novels-like a cross between Robert B.Parker and Michael Crichton,and partly it's better because it takes place in Boston(As do Robert B.Parker's books)and definitely one of her best/better novels.
Great Read. If you like 'fast pace', suspense THRILLERS... this is it! The story ending is a bit 'off-beat', but, all in all, it kept my attention with all the TWISTS and TURNS... making you wonder... WHAT IS REALLY GOING ON... and WHO REALLY 'IS' someone you CAN TRUST... when the main character who is HIDING... tries to START HER LIFE OVER... without having to LOOK OVER HER SHOULDER...
The novel Hide by Lisa Gardner is filled with suspense and drama. I really liked this book because the author portrays the characters in a realistic way. The book is about a woman named Annabelle Granger whose family has been on the run since she was seven and she¿s always wondered why; until six bodies are discovered on the grounds an abandoned mental assylum and one is wearing a locket with her name on it. With her help, detectives, Bobby Dodge and D.D Warren, set out to solve the case. Hide is in the point of view of Annabelle and Bobby, who are secretly falling for each other. This book has quite a bit of obscene language so adults and mature young adults would best enjoy it. If you like Fake ID, then you¿ll love Hide!
'This is the type of thriller that has you guessing to virtually the end and has a heart-pounding conclusion! This book sucked me in from the beginning with the story of Anabelle, whose father makes her constantly move and change identities like they are in the witness protection program. This finally finishes when Anabelle becomes an adult and both her parents are dead. In the meantime a grave is unearthed that contains the remains of murdered children. Somehow, Anabelle going into hiding has some connection to this grave. The author uses interesting story telling, having Anabelle's story appear in first person and using third person when describing the two detectives investigating the case. What really gets confusing is that the case is similar to another case inolving a woman who was a girlfriend of one of the detectives investigating the case and also bears a strong resemblence to Anabelle. Gardner's confusing plotline clues only adds to the reader's difficulty in putting the book down. Don't miss this one!'
I first purchased 'Alone' and then soon ran to the store for 'Hide'. I love the way Lisa Gardner has been able to fascinate me with all of the information she has been able to compile into an intense thriller! Don't worry, there is also a little romance to help you realize life is always hectic, but love is always there. I have now started going back with reading her first book, 'The Perfect Husband' and will continue to read all of Lisa's books. I have become an instant fan of hers and hope she continues to reel out amazing horror, shocking, suspenseful, and yes-some romance into her novels. I couldn't help, but to find myself having a crush on Detective Bobby Dodge and wanting to see his relationship with Annabelle develop. So I am hopeful that he, if not the both of them, return to a book in the future!
I have read all her books and I think this one was the best. I absolutely could not put it down. I spent an entire day on the couch one Saturday till it was finished. My 8 yr old was ready to kill me but I could not stop. Highly recommend it to anyone. You wont be able to put it down.
Hide is an exihalarating, suspenful and edge of your seat-nail-biting book. Lisa Garderner produces a book with twist and turns that keep you guessing until the very end!
This book is great! There is definately a new name in thriller writters, and that is lisa gardner. Spooky murder site, intersesting characters - much different than in other suspense novels - and a twisting plot that eradicates all other writer's attempts. Hide away for a couple of days in a remote location to really fel the tense, pulse-pounding horror of this book. I would love to hear from others who loved this, or any of her books.
Kept me guessing
This is the second book in the Detective D.D. Warren series, and it is also the second time that I have read this author.Detective Bobby Dodge is back! I am still confused as to why this series is not named the "Detective Bobby Dodge" series, since his role is more prominent in both this novel and its predecessor, Alone, which I read back in February.When six bodies are discovered in an underground chamber, Bobby Dodge's first thought is that the crime is reminiscent of Catherine Gagnon's case which was solved in Alone. Is this the work of the same man who kidnapped Catherine?I like this book even more than the first in the series! It is getting better!!I like Bobby Dodge, but it seems like he can't help himself but get involved with each of women in these books!!Gardner threw in lots of twists and red herrings that kept me guessing right up until the end. Just when I thought that I had everything figured out, there was another twist! I love it when authors do that - keeps me on my toes!I also like Maggie-Meg Reed's narration of this book.MY RATING: 4 stars!
I really liked this. Gardner does a great job of throwing you twists and turns and red herrings. Just when you think you¿re getting it figured out, a new detail emerges that changes everything. This was so suspenseful that it had me listening on my morning *and* afternoon commutes ¿ I¿m usually an afternoon listener only. I¿ve liked the Bobby Dodge books a lot more than Gardner¿s Quincy/Rainie series ¿ hopefully she¿ll write a few more.
I am a huge fan of Lisa Gardner. And I must say Hide was not a disappointment. The book is the 2nd book from the Bobby Dodge Series. A follow-up to Alone. I do recommend that you read Alone first. It will give you a little more history into the characters and the plot. I found this book to be one big puzzle. So many questions to be answered, so much mystery, and suspense. I had a hard time putting the book down. I¿m glad I purchased this book in hardcover. It¿s a keeper.
The bodies of six young girls are discovered in an underground chamber, they appear to have been long forgotten yet the heinous act is eerily familiar to another crime from the past. Is it possible that the two are connected?Det. Bobby Dodge is called in to work the scene and is stunned by what has been discovered. Annabelle Granger is stunned too- the front page of the Boston Herald says she is dead. Why have the newspapers named her as a victim and what is her role in the 25 year old murders? So many questions¿Lisa Gardner has created a gripping `whodunit¿ in this novel; I couldn¿t put it down until I knew how it all played out. Most of the time, I figure out who did `dunit¿ but not this time- kept me guessing until the end! A must read for any murder mystery fan
Page-turner that grabs and won't let go. Lots of twists and turns to keep you guessing. One woman has been hiding since age 7, only to have 'her' body discovered in an underground chamber, along with 5 other girls! Now what?
Great page-turner. Vaguely remembered the characters from previous books, struggled remembering the previous storyline - although it wasn't crucial to understanding this book. Just would have flowed better.
I have read several of Lisa Gardner's books. And while she is not my favorite suspense writer, she can and does write a still very entertaining book. This story is about a girl who grows up moving from town to town always taking on a new identity, without ever knowing why. There are many twists and turns to keep you guessing. A satisfying read!