Two Little Girls in Blue
Read Two Little Girls in Blue Online
Authors: Mary Higgins Clark
Acclaim for THE QUEEN OF SUSPENSE #1
New York Times
Bestselling
Author MARY HIGGINS CLARK
TWO LITTLE GIRLS IN BLUE
“Bestseller Clark is at her best when writing of crime against children, as shown in this chilling tale of kidnapping, murder, and telepathy.”
âPublishers Weekly
NO PLACE LIKE HOME
“Mary Higgins Clark's awesome gift for storytelling has always been the secret of her strength as a suspense novelist. But let's credit her as well for something more subtleâher intuitive grasp of the anxieties of everyday life that can spiral into full-blown terror. In [
No Place Like Home
], this canny writer . . . comes up with a cunning variation on the haunted-house theme.”
âThe New York Times
NIGHTTIME IS MY TIME
“Creeping menace that is genuinely scary.”
âThe New York Times
“Clark's multitude of fans will be happy . . . to participate in the guessing game.”
âPublishers Weekly
THE SECOND TIME AROUND
“Clark keeps the chase lively throughout.”
âPeople
“[Clark] knows how to spin an intriguing tale . . . she's created a convincing heroine in Carley.”
âBooklist
“There's something special about Clark's thrillers. . . . Grace, charm, and solid storytelling.”
âPublishers Weekly
DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL
“A fast and fascinating read.”
âKnoxville News-Sentinel
(TN)
“Her best in years . . . a tightly woven, emotionally potent tale of suspense and revenge. . . . With its textured plot, well-sketched secondary characters, strong pacing, and appealing heroine, this is Clark at her most winning.”
âPublishers Weekly
“Few stories of obsession will grab readers quite like this one.”
âOttawa Citizen
“The plot is classic Clark, except the author tells her story from a first-person perspective. She pulls it off well.”
âStar Ledger
(NJ)
ON THE STREET WHERE YOU LIVE
“Is a reincarnated serial killer at work in a New Jersey resort town more than a century after he first drew blood? That's the catchy premise that supports [this] plot-driven novel.”
âPublishers Weekly
“A suspenseful page-turner that will delight her many fans.”
âBooklist
BEFORE I SAY GOOD-BYE
“Mary Higgins Clark knows what she's doing. . . . This savvy author always comes up with something unexpected. . . . A hold-your-breath ending.”
âThe New York Times Book Review
“For someone who loves plot, Mary Higgins Clark's
Before I Say Good-bye
should be like manna from heaven. . . . [The] âQueen of Suspense' clearly knows what her readers want. Here she provides it, in spades.”
âLos Angeles Times
“The storytelling skills of the newest grandmaster of mystery writing have never been better.”
âThe Hartford Courant
(CT)
“Clark holds the reins the whole way through this tale of mischief and secrets, allowing us to unwind her labyrinth of hidden clues only as she wants them to unfold.”
âThe Christian Science Monitor
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I Heard that Song Before excerpt
For Michael V. Korda
Editor and Friend
With Love
T
he telepathy that exists between some people has always fascinated me. From early childhood I can remember my mother, a worried frown on her face, saying, “I have a feeling about . . .” And as sure as day follows night, that person was experiencing or about to experience a problem.
I have used telepathy to a degree in some of my books, but the bond that exists between twins, particularly identical twins, is nothing short of fascinating. That subject has been growing in my mind as the plot of a novel for a long time.
My gratitude to the authors of books on this subject, particularly Guy Lyon Playfair for his
Twin Telepathy: the Psychic Connection;
Nancy L. Segal, Ph.D., for
Entwined Lives;
Donna M. Jackson for
Twin Tales: The Magic and Mystery of Multiple Births;
Shannon Baker for her article, “On Being a Twin”; and to Jill Neimark for her cover story “Nature's Clones” in
Psychology Today.
The examples they offer of the psychic connection between twins were most helpful to me in the telling of this tale.
Others, as always, made the journey with me. My continuing gratitude to my forever editor, Michael V.
Korda, and senior editor Chuck Adams for their gifted guidance.
Lisl Cade, my dear friend and publicist, is always in my corner. My circle of readers-in-progress remains constant. My thanks to them and to our children and granchildren, who cheer me along the way and keep my life lively and fun.
I wanted this book to be a tribute to the dedicated commitment of the Federal Bureau of Investigation following a kidnapping. I especially want to honor the memory of the late Leo McGillicuddy, a legend among his fellow agents.
Retired Agent Joseph Conley has been of tremendous help in the step-by-step unfolding of the behind-the-scenes activity of the Bureau. I have telescoped some of the procedures for the sake of the storytelling, but I hope I retain the sense of fierce commitment and compassion that is typical of the agents.
And now as another story begins to take root in my mind, it is time to let go of this one, sit by the fire with Himself, the ever-perfect John Conheeney, and wish all of you who begin these pages an enjoyable reading experience. Cheers!
“H
old on a minute, Rob, I think one of the twins is crying. Let me call you back.”
Nineteen-year-old Trish Logan put down her cell phone, got up from the couch, and hurried across the living room. It was her first time babysitting for the Frawleys, the nice people who had moved into town a few months earlier. Trish had liked them immediately. Mrs. Frawley had told her that when she was a little girl, her family often visited friends who lived in Connecticut, and she liked it so much she always wanted to live there, too. “Last year when we started looking for a house and happened to drive through Ridgefield, I knew it was where I wanted to be,” she told Trish.
The Frawleys had bought the old Cunningham farmhouse, a “fixer-upper” that Trish's father thought should have been a “burner-upper.” Today, Thursday, March 24th, was the third birthday of the Frawleys' identical twin girls, and Trish had been hired for the day to help with the party, then to stay for the evening while the parents attended a black-tie dinner in New York.
After the excitement of the party, I'd have sworn the kids were dead to the world, Trish thought as she started up the stairs, headed to the twins' room. The Frawleys
had ripped out the worn carpet that had been in the house, and the nineteenth-century steps creaked under her feet.
Near the top step, she paused. The light she had left on in the hall was off. Probably another fuse had blown. The wiring in the old house was a mess. That had happened in the kitchen this afternoon.
The twins' bedroom was at the end of the hall. There was no sound coming from it now. Probably one of the twins had cried out in her sleep, Trish thought as she began to inch her way through the darkness. Suddenly she stopped. It's not just the hall light. I left the door to their room open so I could hear them if they woke up. The night-light in the room should be showing. The door's closed. But I couldn't have heard one of them crying if it was closed a minute ago.
