By Linwood Barclay
Tim Blake is an ordinary man. He sells vehicles. He has an ex-wife who’s moved in with one other guy. It’s no longer a existence with no hassles, yet not anything will arrange him for while his daughter, Sydney, vanishes into skinny air. on the inn the place she supposedly labored, nobody has ever heard of her. Even her closest buddies appear to be at a loss. As he retraces Sydney’s steps, Tim discovers that the suburban Connecticut city he constantly regarded as idyllic is whatever yet. What he doesn’t be aware of is that his each circulate is being watched. There are others who are looking to locate Sydney up to Tim does. And the nearer Tim involves the reality, the nearer he involves each parent’s worst nightmare—and the type of evil just a parent’s love has an opportunity in hell of stopping.
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Extra info for Fear the Worst: A Thriller
Hey, Tim, sit down,” she said, not getting up from behind her desk. Since she had an actual office, and not a cubicle like the lowly sales staff, I was able to close her door as she’d asked. I sat down without saying anything. I wasn’t much into small talk these days. ” Laura asked. I nodded. ” She nodded her head in the direction of the parking lot, where Lorna and Dell were at this moment getting into their eight-year-old Buick. ” “No,” I said. ” Laura wasn’t interested in fables. “We have a good product.
I clicked on it and learned that there was a problem with my Citibank account and if I didn’t immediately confirm all my personal financial details it would be suspended, which was kind of curious considering that I did not have a Citibank account and never had. “Jesus Christ,” I said aloud. The site had only been up for nearly three weeks—Jeff got it up and running within days of Syd’s disappearance—and already the spammers had found it. ” Lorna said. I glanced at her. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Just something on my screen there.
Sydney Blake,” I said. ” “No,” I said. ” She studied the picture for two seconds and handed it back. ” She looked exasperated. ” “No,” I said. ” I let her get back to Ayn Rand. As I stepped out, a thin, white-haired woman was locking up the flower shop. A young man, mid-twenties, was obediently standing by her, like a dog waiting to be told what to do. The woman looked my way briefly but turned her head before we could make eye contact. You didn’t want to be making eye contact with men coming out of XXX Delights.
Fear the Worst: A Thriller by Linwood Barclay