Gone, Baby, Gone: A Novel (Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro Series)

Gone, Baby, Gone: A Novel (Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro Series)

Dennis Lehane

Language: English

Pages: 464

ISBN: 0061336211

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Gone, Baby, Gone: A Novel (Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro Series)

Dennis Lehane

Language: English

Pages: 464

ISBN: 0061336211

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


“Powerful and raw, harrowing, and unsentimental.”

Washington Post Book World

 

Chilling, completely credible….[An] absolutely gripping story.”

Chicago Tribune

 

“Mr. Lehane delivers big time.”
Wall Street Journal

 

In Gone, Baby, Gone, the master of the new noir, New York Times bestselling author Dennis Lehane (Mystic River, Shutter Island), vividly captures the complex beauty and darkness of working-class Boston. A gripping, deeply evocative thriller about the devastating secrets surrounding a little girl lost, featuring the popular detective team of Patrick Kenzie and Angela Gennaro, Gone, Baby, Gone was the basis for the critically acclaimed motion picture directed by Ben Affleck and starring Casey Affleck, Ed Harris, and Morgan Freeman.

Ice Cap (Jackie Swaitkowski, Book 3)

Blind Switch (Jack Doyle Mysteries, Book 1)

A Long Line of Dead Men (Matthew Scudder, Book 12)

A Death in the Small Hours (Charles Lenox Mysteries, Book 6)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

approaching. Lenny turned his head, and a smile broke across his face. “Sounds like they’re coming for you, don’t it?” His smile broke into a hard, bitter laugh that exposed a red sore of a mouth with almost no teeth. He waved at me as the siren grew so close I knew they were in the alley. “Bye-bye now. Smoke ’em if you got ’em.” His bitter laugh came out even harder this time and sounded more like the coughing of ravaged lungs. After a few seconds, his cronies joined in, nervously at first

approaching. Lenny turned his head, and a smile broke across his face. “Sounds like they’re coming for you, don’t it?” His smile broke into a hard, bitter laugh that exposed a red sore of a mouth with almost no teeth. He waved at me as the siren grew so close I knew they were in the alley. “Bye-bye now. Smoke ’em if you got ’em.” His bitter laugh came out even harder this time and sounded more like the coughing of ravaged lungs. After a few seconds, his cronies joined in, nervously at first

became a private detective—because I hate knowing exactly what’s next. “I need to catch a breath,” Poole said. He grabbed a thick vine growing out of the ground in front of us and twisted with it toward the ground. The gym bag fell from his hand, and his foot slipped in the dirt, and he fell on top of the bag, clenching the vine tightly in his hand. We were about fifteen yards from the top. I could see the faintest green shimmer of water, like a wisp of cloud, reflecting off the dark cliffs and

over the last place we’d seen Angie. She came up and flailed at the eddies engulfing her, spit water from her mouth, and turned onto her back. “What’s she doing?” the cop beside me said. “Going to shore,” I said, as Angie backstroked toward the rocks, the doll arcing with the windmill motion of her left arm. The cop nodded, his rifle aimed at the tree line. Angie’s high school had no swim team, so she competed for the Girls Clubs of America, won a silver medal when she was sixteen in a

Blue Hills Reservation, dropped down neatly between the ski lift lines, and watched as the second helicopter did the same, settled gently about twenty yards away. Several police cars and ambulances, two MDC ranger cars, and a few trooper units greeted us. Broussard jumped out of the second helicopter and raced toward the first police car, pulled the uniformed cop from the driver’s seat. I jogged over as he started the engine. “Where’s Poole?” “I don’t know,” he said. “He wasn’t where we left

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