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Alex Cross travels to Hollywood to hunt for a brutal killer
in his most terrifying case yet.
FBI Agent Alex Cross is on vacation with his family in Disneyland
when he gets a call from the Director. A well-known actress was shot
outside her home in Beverly Hills. Shortly afterward, an editor for the
Los Angeles Times receives an e-mail describing the murder in vivid
details. Alex quickly learns that this is not an isolated incident. The
killer, known as Mary Smith, has done this before and plans to kill
Right from the beginning, this case is like nothing Alex has ever
been confronted with before. Is this the plan of an obsessed fan or a
spurned actor, or is it part of something much more frightening? Now
members of Hollywood's A-list fear they're next on Mary's list, and the
case grows by blockbuster proportions as the LAPD and FBI scramble to
find a pattern before Mary can send one more chilling update.
Filled with the ruthless and shocking twists that make his fans
hunger for more, Mary, Mary is James Patterson's most
sophisticated thriller yet.
About The Author
JAMES PATTERSON is one of the best-known and biggest-selling
writers of all time. He is the author of some of the most popular
series of the past decade - the Alex Cross, Women's Murder Club and
Detective Michael Bennett novels - and he has written many other
number one bestsellers including romance novels and stand-alone thrillers.
He lives in Florida with his wife and son. James is passionate about
encouraging children to read. Inspired by his own son who was a reluctant
reader, he also writes a range of books specifically for young readers.
James has formed a partnership with the National Literacy Trust, an
independent, UK-based charity that changes lives through literacy.
If there really were human superheroes, Alex Cross would be at the head of the class...and, with each instalment in the series, Patterson makes sure his superhero gets bigger and better while at the same time becomming more vulnerable. - New York Times
Brilliantly terrifying...so exciting I had to stay up all night to finish it - Daily MailIt features Alex Cross one of the best heroes in the genre - Independent on SundayYou wont be able to put down James Patterson's number one best seller Mary, Mary. Full of edge-of-your-seat suspense, you'll be dying to discover why somebody is murdering Hollywood's A-List - OK magazine, AustraliaJames Patterson is one of the most readable of all crime writers. His short, snappy chapters keep the plot bubbling and his background detail is always in the know. - Gerald Kaufman, The ScotsmanTicks like a time bomb - full of threat and terror - Los Angeles Times
ACT ONE, SCENE ONE, the Storyteller thought to himself, and
couldn't hold back a dizzying rush of anticipation.The truth was that
ordinary people committed perfect crimes and perfect murders all the
time. But you didn't hear about it for the simple reason that the
killers never got caught.
And neither would he, of course. That was a given in the story he
was about to tell. Which didn't mean that today wasn't nerveracking.
Actually, this was the most intense moment in the past couple of insane
years for him. He was ready to kill somebody, a complete stranger, and
he had figured out that New York City was the right place for his first.
It almost happened just outside a basement restroom in
Bloomingdale's, but he didn't feel right about the location.
Too crowded, even at half past ten in the morning.
Too noisy, and yet not noisy enough to provide the proper
Plus, he didn't like the idea of trying to escape out onto the
unfamiliar territory of Lexington Avenue, or especially down into the
claustrophobic IRT subway tunnels. When it felt right, he'd know it,
and act accordingly.
So the Storyteller moved on and decided to catch a flick at the
Sutton Theater on East 57th Street, a funky, run-down place that had
obviously seen better days.
Maybe this was a good place for a murder. He liked the
irony, even if he was the only one who got it. Yes, maybe this was
going to work out great, he thought as he sat in one of the two small
He began to watch Kill Bill Volume 2 with seven other
Which one of these unsuspecting people would be his victim? You?
You? You there? The Storyteller spun the tale inside his head.
There were two loudmouths in identical New York Yankees baseball
caps, worn backward, of course. The irritating morons didn't shut up
once through the interminable ads and trailers. They both deserved to
So did an atrociously dressed elderly couple, who didn't talk to
each other at all, not once in fifteen minutes before the houselights
went down. Killing them would be a good deed,almost a public service.
A fragile-looking woman,early forties,seemed to be having the shakes
two rows in front of the moldy oldies. Bothering no one - except him.
And then a big black dude with his sneakered feet up on the seat in
front of him. Rude, inconsiderate bastard in his old-school Converses
that must have been at least size fourteens.
Next, a black-bearded movie nerd who probably had seen the movie a
dozen times already and worshipped Quentin Tarantino, of course.
Turned out, it was the bearded wonder who got up about halfway
through the movie, just after Uma Thurman was buried alive. Jesus, who
could walk out on that classic scene?
Duty-bound, he followed, a couple of seconds behind. Out into the
dingy hall, then into the men's room,which was located near theater two.
He was actually shaking now.Was this it? His moment? His first
murder? The beginning of everything he'd dreamed about for months? Make
He was pretty much on autopilot, trying not to think about anything
except doing this right, then getting in and out of the movie theater
without anybody noticing his face or too much else about him.
The bearded guy was standing at the urinal, which was kind of good
news, actually.The shot was nicely framed and art-directed.
Wrinkled, grungy black T-shirt that said NYU FILM SCHOOL with a
clapsticks logo on the back. Reminded him of a character out of a
Daniel Clowes comic book, and that graphic shit was hot right
'And . . . action!' he said.
Then he shot the poor bearded loser in the back of the head,watched
him drop like a heavy sack to the bathroom floor. Lie there - nothing
moving. The blast roared through his head in the tiled room, louder
than he'd dreamed it would be.
'Hey - what the? What happened? Hey!' he heard, and the
Storyteller whirled around as if there was an audience watching him in
the men's room.
Two guys from the Sutton Theater crew had entered behind him.They
must have been curious about the noise. And how much had they seen?
'Heart attack,' he said, blurted it out, tried to sound convincing.
'Man just fell over at the urinal. Help me get him up. Poor guy. He's
No panic,no affect,no second thoughts whatsoever. Everything was
pure instinct now, right, wrong,or indifferent.
He raised his gun and shot both theater workers as they stood
walleyed and dorky at the door. He shot them again when they were down
on the floor. Just to be careful. Professional.
And now he was really shaking, legs like J-E-LL-O, but trying to
walk very calmly out of the men's room.
Then out of the Sutton Theater onto 57th, heading east on foot.
Everything outside feeling completely unreal and otherworldly,
everything so bright and brassy.
He'd done it. He'd killed three people instead of just one. His
first three murders. It was just practice, but he'd done it,
and you know what? He could do it again.
'Practice makes perfect,' the Storyteller whispered under his breath
as he hurried toward his car - his getaway car, right? God, this was
the best feeling of his life. Of course, that didn't say much for his
life up to now, did it?
But watch out from here on, just watch out.
For Mary, Mary, quite contrary.
Of course, he was the only one who got that. So far,anyway.
YOU THINK YOU CAN KILL again in cold blood? he asked himself many
times after the New York murders.
You think you can stop this now that you've started? You think?
The Storyteller waited-almost five months of self-torture, also
known as discipline, or professionalism, or maybe cowardice - until it
was his time.
Then, he arrived in the kill zone again, and this time it wasn't
going to be practice. This was the real deal, and it wasn't a stranger
who was going to die.
He was just a face in the crowd at the 3:10 showing of The
Village at the Westwood Village Theater in Los Angeles. There were
a number of patrons, which was good news for him and, he supposed, for
the film's star director, M. Night Shyamalan. What kind of name was
that? M. Night? Selfconscious phony.
Apparently Patrice Bennett was among the last people in town to see
the horror film. Also, Patrice actually deigned to sit in a real movie
theater, with real ticket-buyers, for her movie fix. How quaint was
that? Well, she was famous for it, wasn't she? It was Patrice's shtick.
She'd even bought her ticket ahead of time, which was how he knew she'd
So this wasn't target practice anymore, and everything had to be
just right, and it would be. Never a doubt. The story was already
written in his head.
For one thing, he couldn't be spotted by anyone in the theater. So
he went to the twelve-o'clock; then, when the show let out, he waited
around in a bathroom stall until the 3:10. Nail-biting, nerve-thwacking
ordeal, but not that bad really. Especially since if he was spotted,
he'd simply abort the mission.
But the Storyteller wasn't seen - at least he didn't think so - and
he didn't see anyone he knew.
Now, the theater had more than a hundred viewers, or rather, suspects,
right? At least a dozen of them were perfect for his purposes.
Most important - his gun had a silencer now. Something he'd learned
from the thrill-packed run-through in New York City.
Patrice sat in the balcony. Works for me, Patsy, he
thought. You're being way too thoughtful, especially for you, you
He was watching her from across the aisle and a few rows behind.
This was so delicious - he wanted the luxurious anticipation of revenge
to go on and on. Except that he also wanted to pull the trigger and get
the hell out of the Westwood theater before something went wrong. But
what could go wrong, right?
When Joaquin Phoenix got stabbed by Adrien Brody, he calmly rose
from his seat and went directly to Patrice's aisle. He never hesitated
for an instant.
'Excuse me. Sorry,' he said, and started to make his way past her,
actually over her bare, skinny legs, which weren't very impressive for
such an important woman in Hollywood.
'Jesus Christ, will you watch it,' she complained, which was just
like her, so unnecessarily nasty and imperialsounding.
'Not exactly who you can expect to see next. Not Jesus,' he quipped,
and wondered if Patrice got his little joke. Probably not. Studio heads
didn't get subtlety.
He shot her twice - once in the heart and once right between her
totally shocked, blown-away eyes. There was no such thing as too dead
when it came to this kind of powermad psycho. Patrice could probably
come back at you from the grave, like that reverse trapdoor ending in
the original Carrie, Stephen King's first story to reach the
Then he made his perfect escape.
Just like in the movies, hey.
The story had begun.
ISBN: 9780755349395 ISBN-10: 0755349393 Series: Alex Cross Audience:
Number Of Pages: 464 Published: 1st August 2010 Publisher: Headline Publishing Group Country of Publication: GB Dimensions (cm): 19.7 x 13.0
Weight (kg): 0.32
Edition Number: 1
About the Author
James Patterson is one of the best-known and biggest-selling writers of all time. Since winning the Edgar Award for Best First Novel with The Thomas Berryman Number, his books have sold in excess of 300 million copies worldwide and he has been the most borrowed author in UK libraries for the past eight years in a row. He is the author of some of the most popular series of the past two decades â?? Alex Cross, Women's Murder Club, Detective Michael Bennett and Private novels â?? and he has written many other number one bestsellers including romance novels and stand-alone thrillers. He lives in Florida with his wife and son.
James is passionate about encouraging children to read. Inspired by his own son who was a reluctant reader, he also writes a range of books specifically for young readers. James is a founding partner of Booktrust's Children's Reading Fund in the UK.