THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
“An utterly absorbing story about troubled families and twisted fates. You won’t be able to put it down—and it will haunt you long after you turn the final page.”—Shari Lapena
“A complex crime scene, a missing girl, a ticking clock: no one writes a more page-turning, gut-wrenching thriller.”—Tess Gerritsen
In #1 New York Times bestselling author Lisa Gardner's latest twisty thrill ride, Detective D. D. Warren and Find Her's Flora Dane return in a race against the clock to either save a young girl's life...or bring her to justice.
The home of a family of five is now a crime scene: four of them savagely murdered, one—a sixteen-year-old girl—missing. Was she lucky to have escaped? Or is her absence evidence of something sinister? Detective D. D. Warren is on the case—but so is survivor-turned-avenger Flora Dane. Seeking different types of justice, they must make sense of the clues left behind by a young woman who, whether as victim or suspect, is silently pleading, Look for me.
About the Author
Lisa Gardner is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of twenty novels, including Look for Me, Right Behind You, Find Her, Crash & Burn, Fear Nothing, Touch & Go, Catch Me, and The Neighbor, which won the International Thriller of the Year Award. She lives with her family in New England.
Read an Excerpt
***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected copy proof***
Copyright © 2018 Lisa Gardner
A year later, what Sarah remembered most was waking up to the sound of giggling.
"Shhh. Not so loud! My roommates hate it when I bring boys home. Killjoys need their beauty sleep."
"So, no making noises? Like this?" A wolf howl from outside Sarah's bedroom door.
Fresh giggling. Then loud thumps as someone, probably Heidi, ran into the coffee table, the couch, the standing lamp.
"Oh well," Heidi announced. "Quiet was never gonna happen. I'm a screamer and proud of it."
A man's voice: "Knew I picked the right girl at the bar. I like screamers. Always have."
More giggling, more thumps.
Sarah groaned, rolled face down on her tiny mattress, and pulled her pillow over her head. On the opposite side of the wall, no doubt Christy and Kelly were doing the same. Heidi Raepuro had been a last-minute addition to their apartment. A friend of a friend of a friend, qualified mostly by the fact Heidi was willing to pay extra for her own bedroom, and Sarah, Christy, and Kelly, who'd known one another since fresh man year, had really wanted the three-bedroom unit. Walking distance to Boston College, bay windows, hardwood floors, crown molding. When Sarah had first walked into the space, she'd felt like a grown-up. No more minifridge, no more standing-room-only dorm room. No more bare mattress shared with two younger siblings in an overcrowded slumlord's paradise.
The long nights studying when the rest of her friends had been out partying or repeating their parents' drug-fueled mistakes had finally paid off.
Which was the other reason she'd fallen in love with the brightly lit apartment. Because after spending her entire childhood sharing, sharing, sharing, this place offered her the greatest luxury imaginable: her own room. Granted, it was barely the size of a twin mattress, more a closet than a bedroom, most likely converted by an enterprising landlord looking to charge a three-bedroom price for what was originally a two-bedroom unit, but Sarah didn't care. Tiny fit her budget. And with Christy and Kelly able to split the largest room, and silly, vapid Heidi cashing out the other main sleeping space, every one was happy. Especially Sarah, ensconced in her minuscule slice of paradise.
Except for nights like tonight.
More crashing-then moaning. Good God, didn't Heidi ever get enough?
A curious scrape.
"Hey now." Heidi's voice, hiccupping slightly as she panted from exertion.
Sarah rolled her eyes, pulled the pillow tighter around her ears. "Wait . .. I don't want ... No!”
Sarah sat up just as Heidi screamed. Loud, pitching, and ...
Do screams have a taste? Fire? Ash? Red-hot cinnamon candies, which as a little girl Sarah liked to let melt on the tip of her tongue?
Or is it more that screams have a color? Green and gold giggles, purple and blue cackles, or this? Molten white. Melt-your-eyeballs, singe-the-hair-on-your-arms, bright, bright, white? A color too brilliant for nature, searing straight to the core.
That's what Heidi screamed. Molten white.
It pierced the thin walls, threatened to blow out the windows. It jolted Sarah, sitting bolt upright.
And completely, totally, unable to move.
This was the part she still didn't remember well. Not even a year later. The police asked her about the details, of course. Detectives, a forensic nurse, later more investigators, crime scene specialists.
All she could tell them was that the night started with green and gold giggles and ended with molten-white screams. Heidi's the whitest and brightest but also blessedly short.
Christy and Kelly. Two girls in one room. Best friends, members of the lacrosse team. Forewarned, forearmed, they fought. They hurled trophies. Was the sound of crashing metal a taste or a color? No, just a crash. Followed by screams, all kinds of colors and flavors. Fear, rage, anguish. Determination as one nailed him with a lacrosse stick. Horror as he came back with his blade.
He got Kelly right in the gut (Sarah read the report later), but Kelly got him by the ankles. She rolled herself into him, around him, a human armadillo. And he slashed and he slashed, glancing blows off her ribs, which allowed Christy time to grab the comforter from the lower bunk bed and to throw it at him, tangle up his arms.
"Sarah!" they were screaming. "Help, Sarah! Nine-one-one, nine one-one!"
Sarah called. Another one of those things she didn't remember, but later she listened to it at her own request. A recording of her voice, trembling, barely a whisper, as she reached the dispatch center: "Help us, please help us, he's killing them. He's going to kill us all."
She left her room. It had to be done. In her tiny room, she'd be trapped, the proverbial fish in a barrel. She had to get out to open ground.
To protect herself?
To save her roommates?
She didn't know. A question to ask herself during all the sleepless nights to come.
She left her room.
She went toward her roommates' bedroom. She saw an open hand through the doorway, Kelly's splayed fingers, and without thinking Sarah grabbed it. Was she going to pull her roommate to safety? Man up and carry each and every one of them out to the hall? No time to think. Just do. So she grabbed Kelly's hand and pulled hard.
And found herself holding an arm. Just ... an arm.
Because, apparently, when a girl armadilloed herself around a mad man's ankles, sooner or later he got tired of slashing his victim and simply dismantled her instead.
Screams ahead of her, Christy, still fighting. Followed by a plea behind her.
"Sarah ... "
She didn't know which way to turn. These sounds, these sights, this night, it didn't register for her. Couldn't.
Slowly she twisted toward the voice behind her, holding Kelly's warm, wet arm tight against her chest. She found herself face-to-face with Heidi. The girl had crawled from her bedroom. The skin of her naked shoulders appeared silver in the glow of lights through the windows. Unmarred, untouched. But the blonde was hunched forward awkwardly, cradling her stomach, and already Sarah could pick up the whiff of perforated bowels.
More screaming from the bedroom. Not molten white. Lava red. Pure rage from a star athlete refusing to be cut down in the prime of her life.
And Sarah knew then what she had to do. She turned away from beautiful, stupid, gutted Heidi. She tightened her grip on poor Kelly's arm, and she joined the fray.
Christy, backed into a corner against the bunk bed, armed with her lacrosse stick. Madman, freed from the comforter, dancing around the body splayed at his feet, enjoying himself, taking his time.
"Excuse me," Sarah said.
He darted toward Christy. She swung her stick down. Last min ute, he twirled left, jabbed the blade into the soft spot beneath her ribs. A wet, squishing sound, followed by Christy's hollow grunt. She jerked the stick back, tapped him on the side of his head. Not hard, but he retreated.
No screaming now. Just the sound of exertion. Everyone breathing hard.
"Excuse me," Sarah said again.
For the first time, the blade man stilled. He turned slightly, a frown on his blood-flecked face. Sarah stared at him. She felt as if she needed to see him. Needed to register him. Or none of this could be real. Especially not this moment, when she held out her hands and offered her friend's severed arm to the man who'd murdered her.
Dark hair. High cheekbones. Sculpted face. Exactly the kind of guy Heidi would bring home from a bar. Exactly the kind of guy who would forever be out of Sarah's league.
"You forgot this," she said, still holding out the arm. ("What?" the first officer had interrupted. "You said what?"
"I had to." Sarah tried explaining to the woman.
Except maybe there was no explaining such a thing. She'd just known she had to do something. Stop him. Interrupt. Make all those red and white screams go away. So she'd walked into the room, and she'd offered up the only thing she had: Kelly's bloody arm.)
He came for her then. Turned fully, blade dripping at his side, lips peeled back from his teeth.
She watched him advance. She didn't move. She didn't scream. She felt like a little girl, standing in the kitchen as her father picked up the boiling teakettle. "What the fuck, you stupid-ass woman? When I ask you for my money, you give me my money! I'm the one in charge here. Now do as I say, or I’ll throw this whole damn pot into your bitch‑ugly face. Then we’ll see who’s willing to take care of you after that!”
Don’t look away, don’t make a sound. This is what she’d learned from her mother over the years. If they’re going to hurt you, make them do it while staring you in the eye.
Madman halted directly in front of her, blade at his side. She could smell the blood on his cheeks, the whiskey on his breath.
He said to her: “Scream.”
As slowly, so slowly, he lifted the knife. Up, up, up.
Behind him, Christy fumbled with her lacrosse stick. Tried to move. Tried to take advantage. But the stick fell from her trembling fingers. It clattered as she slid down the wall, sank to the floor. A sigh in the distance: no more rage from the star athlete, just acceptance. So this is what it felt like to die.
“Scream,” he whispered again.
Sarah stared at him, and in his gaze, she knew exactly what he was going to do. He was not her loser father. Not subject to a quick temper or drunken rages. No, the hunting knife in his hand, the blood on his face. He liked it. Felt no shame, no remorse. Heidi’s screams, Christy’s fight, her own silent stand—this was the most fun he’d had in years.
“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” she heard herself whisper, “I will fear no evil.”
Then she closed her eyes and clutched this last piece of Kelly close, as with a laugh, a chortle of glee, he slashed the knife straight down toward her chest.
An explosion. Two, three, four, five. More pain, her shoulder, her chest, her throat. He’d stabbed her, she thought, as she collapsed to the ground. No, he’d shot her. But that didn’t make sense . . .
A ragged sob behind her, followed by the stench of death growing ever closer. Heidi dragged herself across the hardwood floor.
Holding a small pistol, Sarah noticed now. Heidi had a gun.
“I’m sorry,” Heidi whispered. She was crying, tears mixing, smearing with the blood on her cheeks. “Never . . . shoulda . . .”
“Shhh,” Sarah said.
Heidi put her head on Sarah’s shoulder. Sarah winced; Heidi had shot her while shooting him. But it hardly seemed to matter now. Blood pooling on her throat, blood dripping from her back, so much pain, and yet it seemed far away, abstract.
The madman was still. The molten screams had ended. Now, there was just this. A final moment.
Sarah and Heidi both placed their hands on Kelly’s arm. “I’m sorry,” Heidi mumbled again.
As Sarah listened to her last gurgling breath.
“I will fear no evil,” she whispered in the ensuing silence. “I will fear no evil, fear no evil, fear no evil.”
The police finally burst through the front door. The EMTs rushed to their rescue.
“Jesus Christ,” the first cop said, coming to a halt in the middle of the apartment.
“I will fear no evil,” Sarah told the woman. And, once more, offered up Kelly’s severed arm.
A year later, what she remembered most was waking up to the sound of giggling.
DO SCREAMS HAVE A TASTE? Fire? Ash? Red-hot cinnamon candies, which as a little girl Sarah liked to let melt on the tip of her tongue?
“EXCUSE ME. YOU FORGOT THIS.”
SOUND OF GIGGLING. MOLTEN-WHITE screams.
I WILL FEAR NO EVIL…
ONE YEAR LATER, ONE YEAR later, one year later . ..
A KNOCK AT THE DOOR. Hard. And then again.
Sarah bolted awake in her tiny studio apartment. Drenched in sweat, breath ragged. She lay perfectly still, ears straining. Then it came again. Knocking. Pounding. Someone demanding entrance.
Slowly, she reached for the top drawer of her nightstand. No stashed knife. She couldn't even look at a blade. No gun. She'd tried, but her hands shook too much. So a canister of pepper spray. Meant to chase off bears when hiking in the woods and available at any outdoor gear or camping store. She had the canisters stashed all over her single-room apartment, in every bag she carried.
She drew out the canister, sliding off the mattress as the knocking started again.
She stank. Could smell the reek of her own sweat and terror. Night after night after night.
Screams did have a color. It was the only thing she truly understood anymore. Screams had a color, and she was now intimately familiar with all the shades of despair.
"I will fear no evil," Sarah told herself as she put her eye to the peep hole and gazed into the dimly lit hall.
A lone woman. Late twenties, early thirties maybe. Dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt, she looked like someone Sarah should know. Had maybe met once upon a time. Then again, two A.M. was a strange time for a social call.
"It's okay," the woman spoke up, no doubt sensing Sarah's gaze on her. She held up both hands, as if to prove she was unarmed. "I won't hurt you."
"Who are you?"
"Honestly? You're gonna have to open up to find out. That's part of the deal. I'm here to help you, but you gotta take the first step."
"I will fear no evil," Sarah said, clutching her bear spray tightly.
"That's stupid," said the woman. "World is full of evil. Fear is what keeps us safe."
"Who are you?"
"Someone who's not going to stand here forever. Make your choice, Sarah. Hide behind platitudes or make the world a better place."
Sarah hesitated. But then, her fingers landed on the first bolt lock. Then the second. The third. There was something about this woman. Not what she said so much as the way she stood.
Christy, she found herself thinking. The woman stood like Christy had, once upon a time. A challenger, ready to take on the world.
Slowly, very slowly, Sarah eased open the door until she stood face-to-face with her unexpected guest.
"Nice pepper spray," the woman commented. She strode into Sarah's tiny apartment. Rotated a full circle, looking all around. Nodded once to herself, as if all was what she expected.
She turned, faced Sarah directly, and stuck out a hand.
"My name is Flora Dane," she announced. "A year ago, you survived. Now I'm gonna teach you how to live again."
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
She alwaus writes the best books. This one won't disappoint. She breaks your heart for characters while you can't stop turning the pages. Great, great book. I loved it.
Lisa gardner is by far my favorite author. I wait anxiously for these books every year. I was thrilled that she brought Flora back. She is by far the most complex and interesting character and I hope to read about her again in the future. For me personally this novel in the series was my least favorite and most predictable. I think that too many story lines were going on at once that took away from the core of the book. Still a good read.
I really liked this book.
One of her best
I feel like Lisa used to write really suspensful, thrilling, nail biting books that you just couldnt put down. The last few that shes written werent like that at all. Not too much action or enough mystery for me. They are still good and have some action in them, but they are more emotional if anything. I do love Flora Dane and would like more books with her..but maybe she could start to finally cope some. D.D. is still cool but shes getting old. Well her character is and that shes still bossy and sort of blah. You should read the book prior to this one about Flora. Its pretty emotional too, but has more action and suspense.
Lots of suspense with twists and turns.
Hard to get into
Outstanding! Everything this very talented author writes is amazing!! However her books should come with a warning saying " you will lose sleep, turning page after page long into the night." Buy it, read it, love it. ENJOY!!!
Favorite Quotes: College had been about getting out and getting away, not because I hadn’t loved my mom or her farm or the fox kits born each spring, but because I’d been eighteen, and when you’re eighteen, clearly you can’t want what you already have. Definitely, you gotta try for whatever is behind that other door over there. It takes a villain to make a hero. And it took a monster to make me. My Review: This was a brilliantly contrived thriller! Ms. Gardner’s ingenious and intriguing storylines squeezed my heart while they captivated, taunted, and prickled my curiosity. The mystery was compelling and confounding while the characters were deviously nuanced and complicated. I totally appreciate a clever kick-ass heroine/ survivor/vigilante and this story provided several. The story was heartbreakingly realistic, cunningly paced, shrewdly staged, and unpredictable with so many possible suspects with ample motivation. This was my first experience reading this author and could kick myself for noticing the previous eight books in this enticing series. I want them ALL.
I love a good suspense story. You know when you read the first page and are instantly hooked that you are going to be in for a wild ride. Look for Me is one of those stories that you think you have figured out and then there is a sudden twist that has you second guessing yourself. Then another twist. And another. By the time you reach the end you close the book and mutter, "Wow." Roxy, a sixteen-year-old girl, is missing. Her family is brutally murdered in their home and no one knows if the missing girl is the murderer or running for her life. Detective D.D. Warren is on the case, carefully putting the pieces of the puzzle together. From what she is being told Roxy is the most level-headed person in her family, having to raise her younger brother and sister, protecting them every way she knows how, especially when they are taken away by child protective services and placed in foster care due to their mothers negligence due to alcoholism. This is the wakeup call that their mother needs and see fights to get clean and get her children back. Against all odds she accomplishes her goal and the little family is reunited. Everything seems to be going good and now almost the entire family is gunned down in cold blood and Roxy is nowhere to be found. The deeper D.D. digs into the family's backstory the darker the secrets that are unearthed which makes the situation that much more confusing. D.D. is approached by Flora Dane soon after news of the murders are out and requests that she be a CI in the investigation. Flora is a victim herself, and an advocate and leader of others who have been through traumatic experiences. She tells D.D. that she has been in contact with Roxy prior to the murders that adds another twist in the already confusing narrative. The attitudes and sarcasm between D.D. and Flora is great. They both have very different tactics but they both have the same goal: to find Roxy and find the truth. The conflict between these two characters helps lighten the very dark subject matter. Look for Me delves into alcoholism, the dark side of the foster care system, the effects of a family being torn apart, and the consequences of the choices of others. Look for Me is the ninth book in The Detective D.D. Warren Series and since this is my first book in the series to read I can honestly say it is perfectly fine to read as a standalone book. I do not post spoilers but I do have to comment that the ending, though slightly predictable, is incredibly sad. The pace of the book is even and constant and makes the book hard to put down once you stop. This is my first book by Lisa Gardner and have to say that it is well written, the story multifaceted, and will not be my last book to read by this author or in this series. Five stars! *I received a complimentary copy of this book from Penguin Group Dutton and NetGalley in exchange for an honest, unbiased review. All opinions are my own.
This is definitely my favorite series of books! D.D. Warren is the strong woman that many of wish we could be
I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review. This is one of the best books Lisa Gardner has written!! It starts off right away in a detailed murder. College girl brings a guy home from the bar and it's a mass slaughter! This book focuses on several characters. DD Warren (obviously), Flora Dane, Sarah, and Roxanna Baez. Roxanna lives with her mom and two siblings until one day she is taken away and put into the foster care system. This book talks about how destructing the system can be. Roxanna's Mom is able to gain custody back of the kids and then the worst happens. This book walks you through "the crime" and you get to solve it along with DD Warren and Flora. It talks about what it takes to survive and how far would you go to survive...or help someone else survive. I would definitely recommend this book to any Lisa Gardner fan or someone looking to start out with a Lisa Gardner book who is new to her series.
When Sergeant DD Warren receives a RED BULL alert on her phone she knows it's something bad. When she gets to the house she learns its a house of five people, four of them are dead, but the fifth, sixteen year old Roxanna is missing. The race is on to find her. Has she been taken? Running scared? or is she responsible for the killings? I loved the way the book takes you back in time to the beginning, of the things the family went through, the ups and downs to that fateful day they were wiped out. I kept changing my mind as to who was behind it all, only to find at the end that not only was I completely wrong but it was someone I hadn't even given a thought to. I received a copy of this arc via NetGalley. This is my honest and unbiased review
But I guessed who did it from the start
Definitely with a read, a real heart wrencher.
Detective D. D. Warren is called to a brutal murder scene where four family members were found shot to death. There is another daughter who was last seen walking the dogs but she should have been back by now. Was she taken hostage or was she the killer? An Amber Alert is put out and police are searching the area. Flora Dane, a victims’ advocate turned vigilante, tells D.D. that the missing girl is Roxy Baez and she has been in contact with a member of her group. Flora tells D.D. that the girl is terrified of something or someone. As investigation continues, another family member is shot and injured. A person wearing a hoodie with long dark hair was seen running from the scene. Could this be Roxy? I usually love Gardner's books but this one was missing something. Not as good as her others.
Another Lisa Gardner masterpiece! The author kept me guessing whodunit until the very suspenseful end. Roxy made my heart hurt for all those children in foster care out there. The childhood bullies, Anya and Roberto, were hauntingly familiar to current day bullying issues. I know this was foster care, but the author made this situation very real and believable and horrible. I found Roxy's "perfect family" essays haunting and nicely dispersed throughout the text. The point of view flipping between Detective DD and Flora was a nice touch
almost done with it but so far so good!! im more than halfway done with it. It has already made me shed a few tears
Such a fast read couldn't put it down. The plots are always worked out to leave you guessing to the end.
Lisa is one of my favorite authors. I enjoyed the book.
I enjoyed some of her previous books more.