Simply Lies: A Psychological Thriller

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A twisting new psychological thriller in which two women—one a former detective, the other a dangerous con artist—go head-to-head in an electrifying game of cat and mouse. Gibson was thinking that doing a little field work would be a welcome change from staring at a computer screen for the next few hours. And bonuses were always nice. She would have to call her parents and hope they could come over. She had their calendar and she brought it up on her screen. Okay, they have no doctor appointments today. That’s a miracle. Okay, that gives me some context. The short route includes a ferry, so that would take me about an hour or so and that’s if I hit the boat schedule dead-on. The long route will have me drive south through Newport News, cross the James River Bridge, head to Smithfield, and then it’s about eight miles above that, like making a horseshoe. All told that’s about an hour, too, depending on traffic, so that’s the way I’ll go.”

She’d gone to Temple University in Philly and been coached by the legendary Dawn Staley. Gibson had also been a theater major, and had been cast as the lead in a number of student productions at Temple. People thought she might make it to Broadway one day. Just like his last novel, this is another change-up for Baldacci, focusing on decades old mystery / murder combination with two strongly intelligent women batting each other in a psychological, and personal one-on-one war. However, it is still the same Baldacci style thriller with a strong lead character being thrown into impossibly tough situations, and having to use her physical and intellectual prowess to investigate a murder, overcome strong adversaries along the way, and in this one, find a cool treasure. Baldacci cuts everyone’s grass – Grisham’s, Ludlum��s, even Patricia Cornwell’s – and more than gets away with it’ People When she secretly took and passed the written and physical exams to enter the police academy, her mother had thrown a

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However, when she arrives, she finds a dead body in a secret room and realizes she may have been set up. She finds a cryptic message left on the wall. The man, Harry, has ties with the mob and was previously in witness protection. From out of the darkness, a slash of white and twin pops of color representing a toothy mouth and bulging eyes. capital of the world at Smithfield. Her nav system showed it was another seven miles to the remnants of Rutger Novak’s shattered empire. The whole journey would be less than fifty miles, but that was a long way in the tightly constricted parameters of this part of coastal Virginia. It was filled with military footprints, underwater tunnels, bridges, the ocean with wide sandy beaches, and the delicate lines of inland waterways that either crept along the earth like capillaries under the skin or gushed across it like fat arteries.

Just what I always wanted to be—a ghost hunter.” “Rutherford died in 1940 and his wife, Laura, who was much After that, she unmuted the phone. During this whole time Zeb had been chattering away, oblivious to all her domestic drama. Gibson watched the vomit spiral down the front of her only clean outfit at the moment, with chunks of it landing on her bare feet. As a final touch, the slop soaked into the rug, to join all the previous stains there. From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The 6:20 Man comes a twisting new psychological thriller in which two women—one a former detective, the other a dangerous con artist—go head-to-head in an electrifying game of cat and mouse.The baby monitor was on the shelf. All she could hear right now was gentle breathing, and a series of small snores that she knew came from Tommy. She let out her own long breath and wondered if their usual one-hour nap timeline would hold today. The one predictable component of motherhood, she had found, was that no two days were ever alike. who made his money in railroad, timber, and mining. He owned a mansion in Colorado, a five-story town house in New York, and this place in Virginia. It’s on land where a British Lord built his home; it was later burned down during the Revolutionary War.” She added in a joking manner, “So there might be a ghost or two around.” Gibson looked at her son, whose expression told her all she needed to know. She ran for it and reached the toilet just in time to hold him over the bowl while simultaneously hitting a button on her headset to place the call on mute. Tommy managed somehow to miss the toilet completely and instead puked on the toilet paper holder and her pair of slippers. Gibson had left them there earlier after attempting to use the bathroom. Then she’d heard a crash somewhere and found Tommy sitting on the kitchen floor, covered with most of the wet dirt from a potted plant. She’d stripped the boy and thrown his clothes directly into the washing machine. Gibson had wanted to toss him in, too, only she didn’t relish a visit from Child Services. But she’d forgotten the slippers. And her urge to pee. And it lets people work remotely, which is very nice.” “Yes it is. So, what can I do for you, Ms. Robinson?”

Reading this book is actually painful; possibly Baldacci’s worst, and it is not recommended. Fans of Baldacci will be disappointed and will look forward to the next novel he actually writes. Baldacci novels usually get five stars; this one deserves no more than two. She set Tommy down and threw the soiled footwear into the trash can. She washed her face, trying not to look at the gunk that was sliding off her and down into the sink because it was making her want to vomit. She dried off, then she sat on the toilet, holding Tommy, and finished her long overdue urination. There was a large dining room fully, if incompatibly, outfitted with Baroque pieces and a Chippendale sideboard. Gibson had become something of an expert about such things while hunting the assets of the rich and shifty over the last couple years. On the walls were oil paintings mostly consisting of colonial scenery and waterfront landscapes. She didn’t think they were originals, She punched her flashlight on and adjusted the beam so it was concentrated. Her other hand rested on the butt of her Beretta. Four steps in she saw the source of the sound and airflow. A battery powered fan had been set on the floor within feet of the opening. She kept going.All I needed to know going into Simply Lies was that it was written by David Baldacci. He is a prolific author who needs no introduction. I cannot get enough of his twisty tales and realistic characters. This is a stand-alone book, although I can see it being the beginning of a new series. A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy. Unfortunately, David Baldacci’s “Simply Lies” is far from one of the best thrillers I’ve ever read. And maybe I’ll find some British ghosts living in the old mansion. She slowed as she saw the stone monuments on either side of a driveway. The plaque on one of the monuments read: Stormfield.