Lost Lake

by Phillip Margolin Narrated by Deborah Hazlett

Overview

It's a beautiful summer night in Portland, Oregon. Ami Vergano, a young attorney and single mother, arrives at her son Ryan's little league game with their tenant and new friend, Dan Morelli. When the assistant coach calls in sick, Morelli seems happy to help out.But then one player roughly blocks another and a fight erupts.Before the game ends, Ami witnesses violence that shocks and horrifies her and makes her question everything she thought she knew about Morelli.

On the other side of the continent, ex-mental patient Vanessa Kohler, a reporter for Exposed, a tabloid that specializes in alien abduction stories, watches a piece on television about the little league massacre and quickly places a call to the FBI. For years she's been telling anyone who will listen about a vast government conspiracy to conceal a secret military unit headed by General Morris Wingate, a presidential candidate, and for years everyone has dismissed her stories. But when Vanessa sees Dan Morelli fighting, she believes she's found the key to proving that her theories are true.

Vanessa hires Ami Vergano to represent Morelli, who is charged with attempted murder, and Ami is drawn into Vanessa's paranoid world. Are Vanessa, a former mental patient, and Morelli, a confessed mass murder, telling the truth about one of the nation's most respected soldiers and politicians? Or are their charges the products of two sick minds? Ami has to decide who and what to believe in Phillip Margolin's most exciting and surprising thriller since his breakout bestseller Gone, But Not Forgotten.

Performed by Kristine Sutherland

Editorial Reviews

Kirkus Reviews

Beneath a brawl at a kids' baseball game lies "the biggest scandal in the history of American politics," in this wildly implausible legal thriller from Margolin (Sleeping Beauty, 2004, etc.). Portland lawyer Ami Vergano offers carpenter Dan Morelli the apartment over her garage because she likes his looks and she can use the rent money. But when Dan is attacked by a bullying Little League father, his violent reaction horrifies her, him and the two police officers who subdue him. A preliminary investigation reveals that Dan doesn't exist; everything he's told Ami about himself is a lie, and there's no trace of his identity older than two months. He's really Carl Rice, a U.S. Army captain neck-deep in murderous intrigue. At least that's what tabloid reporter Vanessa Kohler tells Ami when she flies in to demand that Ami represent him. Twenty years ago, according to Vanessa, Carl, her former lover, murdered Congressman Eric Glass on orders from her father, General Morris Wingate, the commander of a top-secret unit specializing in wet work. In the aftermath of the high-profile killing, the general had his daughter committed to an asylum, and Carl disappeared. Now the general, who may have been the second assassin on the grassy knoll (!), is running for president, and Vanessa is as determined to discredit him as he is to liquidate Carl, the key witness against him. Ami, who has no experience in criminal defense, wants off the case, but she ends up defending Carl-and eventually Vanessa, who's soon facing felony charges of her own. Who's telling the truth, the powerful, charismatic candidate or the vengeful daughter discredited by her years in that asylum? As if you had to ask. Except for theoverlong flashbacks, Margolin's tenth may be his best, with everything a thriller should have, except thrills. Literary Guild/Doubleday Book Club/Mystery Guild selection; author tour

From the Publisher

Lively ... the pacing is brisk, the plot cinematic.” — Janet Maslin in the New York Times

“A powerhouse thriller...a relentless gripper ... [that] never loses its fiendish hold on the reader’s attention.” — Seattle Post-Intelligencer

“Frighteningly plausible...a page turner.” — Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

“The suspense [is] high ... surprises keep coming ... a labyrinthine plot built on twists and surprises.” — Publishers Weekly

“Delivers the goods, with plenty of action, suspense, and danger.” — Booklist

“Margolin’s eleventh may be his best, with everything a thriller should have.” — Kirkus Reviews

Seattle Post-Intelligencer

A powerhouse thriller...a relentless gripper ... [that] never loses its fiendish hold on the reader’s attention.

Janet Maslin in the New York Times

Lively ... the pacing is brisk, the plot cinematic.

Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

Frighteningly plausible...a page turner.

Booklist

Delivers the goods, with plenty of action, suspense, and danger.

Booklist

Delivers the goods, with plenty of action, suspense, and danger.

Janet Maslin

Lively ... the pacing is brisk, the plot cinematic.

Seattle Post-Intelligencer

A powerhouse thriller...a relentless gripper ... [that] never loses its fiendish hold on the reader’s attention.

AUG/SEP 05 - AudioFile

Vanessa Kohler, a reporter for a sleazy tabloid, is a paranoid conspiracy theorist. Or is she? She’s also the daughter of General Wingate, who is now running for the presidency and who would do anything to keep secret the illegal murderous unit he led while on active duty. This combination results in murder and a cover-up reminiscent of THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE. Deborah Hazlett is a polished performer. Using inflection and never overemphasizing a subtle clue, she breathes life into the characters and keeps in the foreground the murderous intent of this frighteningly plausible plot. K.A.T. © AudioFile 2005, Portland, Maine

Product Details

BN ID:	2940170153855
Publisher:	HarperCollins
Publication date:	05/10/2005
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

Lost Lake LP

Chapter One

Portland, Oregon -- The Present

The organizers of the Portland Spring Art Fair had lucked out. It had been a very wet March in Oregon and the weather seers were predicting rain through most of April. But Mother Nature had redecorated in the nick of time, storing away the endless precipitation and gloomy black clouds for another day and setting out sunshine and clear blue skies for the weekend of the fair.

Ami Vergano had dressed in a multicolored peasant skirt and a white blouse with short puffed sleeves to celebrate the pleasant weather. Ami was just over five-four and still had the solid build of the gymnast she'd been until she grew in high school. She kept her brown hair short because it was easy to care for. Her big brown eyes dominated her face. Circumstances had turned Ami serious, but her wide, bright smile could light up a room.

Ami was delighted at the large crowds that were taking advantage of the first sunny days of spring to roam the Park Blocks in search of art. Her booth had attracted people since the fair opened, and three of her oils had sold already. She was putting the money from her most recent sale into her purse when someone spoke.

"I like that. Is it imaginary or did you paint a real scene?"

Ami turned and found a broad-shouldered man admiring one of her landscapes. His face had the tanned, leathery look of someone who spends a lot of time outdoors. Ami figured him for five-ten and in his mid- to late forties. He was dressed in jeans, moccasins, and a plaid long-sleeved shirt. His long hair was gathered in a ponytail, and he had a scraggly mustache and goatee. He brought to mind the hippies of the peace and love generation in the 1960s.

"That's a forest glade not far from my house," Ami said.

"I love the way you've captured the light."

Ami smiled. "Thanks. You have no idea how long I worked to get it just right."

"Dan Morelli," the man said, offering his hand. "I have the booth next door. I saw how many people have been going in and out of yours and decided to see what the fuss was all about."

"Ami Vergano," she said as she took Morelli's hand. It was large and comforting, like his smile. "What are you showing? I've been so busy that I haven't had a chance to look around yet."

"I build custom-made furniture. Take a peek if you get a chance."

"I will. Are you from around here? I haven't seen you at our shows before."

"First time in Oregon," Morelli said.

"Where's home?"

"No place, really. I was an army brat. We moved from town to town. I've been living in Arizona, but it's too dry. I like the woods, the ocean."

"There's not much of that in Arizona."

"No, there's not. Anyway, I heard about the fair and thought I'd see if I could get a few orders."

"How's it going?"

"Good. One fellow who stopped by just opened an accounting office and he wants a desk, bookshelves, and some other stuff. That should keep me busy for a while. Now I just have to find somewhere to stay and a place to work."

Ami hesitated. She didn't know a thing about Morelli, but he seemed nice. She made a snap decision.

"You might be in luck. I have an apartment over my garage that I rent out, and my studio is in a barn behind the house. It has plenty of room for carpentry. There's even a workshop and power tools. A student was renting but he had to leave school early because of an illness in the family, so the apartment is empty."

"I have my own tools, but that does sound just right. Can I drive out after the fair shuts down and have a look?"

"Sure."

"What's the rent?"

She told him and Morelli smiled shyly. "I can make that." He stepped out of Ami's booth and looked over at his own. "Got to go. Looks like I have customers. I'd better sell something now that I have to pay rent."

Ami laughed and waved. "See you around five."

Morelli ducked out, and Ami wrapped her arms around herself. Finances had been tight since her tenant left. She could use the extra money. And it would be fun to have another artist around the place. Morelli seemed nice. She hoped it would work out.

Ami Vergano closed the screen door as quietly as she could and stood on the front porch watching Daniel Morelli teach her ten-year-old son how to throw a curveball. They were in the front yard under the aged oak tree that Ami called Methuselah. Morelli was squatting beside Ryan and gently adjusting his fingers on the seams of a badly scuffed hardball that, along with his mitt, was her son's prize possession. Ryan's brow wrinkled as he concentrated on getting the grip right, oblivious of the darkness that was descending at the end of a perfect spring day. Morelli was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt advertising a local microbrew.

When he stretched out his arm, his biceps, triceps, and forearm looked like coiled rope. For someone approaching fifty, Morelli was in good shape. Ami knew that he ran for miles in the morning because she'd seen him returning to his apartment lathered in sweat when she was leaving for work. Once she'd seen him with his shirt off and had been impressed by the etched perfection of his physique. She had also been surprised to see more than one long scar cutting across his back and stomach.

"That's right," Morelli said, and Ryan grinned with pride. Her son was an energetic, gawky towhead who played Little League with a passion and loved anything to do with baseball ...

Lost Lake LP. Copyright © by Phillip Margolin. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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