Phantom Instinct

Phantom Instinct

In Edgar Award–winning author Meg Gardiner’s new stand-alone thriller, an injured cop and an ex-thief hunt down a killer nobody else believes exists. When shots ring out in a crowded L.A. club, bartender Harper Flynn watches helplessly as her boyfriend, Drew, is gunned down in the cross fire. Then somebody throws a Molotov cocktail, and the club is quickly engulfed in flames. L.A. Sheriff Deputy Aiden Garrison sees a gunman in a hoodie and gas mask taking aim at Harper, but before he can help her a wall collapses, bringing the building down and badly injuring him. A year later, Harper is trying to rebuild her life. She has quit her job and gone back to college. Meanwhile, the investigation into the shoot-out has been closed. The two gunmen were killed when the building collapsed. Certain that a third gunman escaped and is targeting the survivors, Harper enlists the help of Aiden Garrison, the only person willing to listen. But the traumatic brain injury he suffered has cut his career short and left him with Fregoli syndrome, a rare type of face blindness that causes the delusion that random people are actually a single person changing disguises. As Harper and Aiden delve into the case, Harper realizes that her presence during the attack was no coincidence—and that her only ally is unstable, mistrustful of her, and seeing the same enemy everywhere he looks. A year after Harper Flynn’s boyfriend was murdered when gunmen stormed the nightclub where she worked, Harper is still struggling with survivor’s guilt and lingering questions. The LAPD investigation concluded that the two gunmen found dead in the club acted alone, but Harper saw three shooters. When she spots someone stalking her, Harper is convinced the third shooter is back. She hopes that Aiden Garrison, an LAPD detective who survived the club attack and also spotted a third gunman, will help her cause with police. But Aiden sustained a head injury in the attack that resulted in a rare disorder characterized by paranoia and hallucinations, resulting in the loss of all his credibility with the police. When Harper and Aiden compare notes, Aiden’s description of the third gunman’s tattoo brings Harper’s worst nightmare to life. The nightclub shooter is a demon from her past, bent on revenge, and Aiden is the only person willing to help her face him. Harper and Aiden’s alliance is full of heady chemistry, but a layer of mutual distrust lends a suspense-building unpredictability that thriller fans will love. --Christine Tran PRAISE FOR PHANTOM INSTINCT :   " Phantom Instinct   is simply a fantastic story, told at breakneck speed. Gardiner is one of the best thriller writers around, and this is arguably her best work yet." - Associated Press  "An excellent plot, this one will keep readers up all night with non-stop, unforgettable action." -  Suspense Magazine "The action sequences...are never less than breathtaking." -  Kirkus “Meg Gardiner's trademark strengths are working better than ever here--characters as real as your friends, and a plot as real as your nightmares.” -Lee Child “Meg Gardiner is one of my favorite authors.  She always delivers a terrific read.   Phantom Instinct should go to the top of your 'to be read' pile.” -Karin Slaughter "A suspense-building unpredictability that thriller fans will love." -  Booklist "Page after page of intrigue, horror, suspense, and a bone chilling narrative...If the reader appreciates a well written, dark, psychological tale with multi-layered facets, PHANTOM INSTINCT is the book." - Reader to Reader "Edgar Award winner Meg Gardiner has written another gripping thriller." - I Love a Mystery MEG GARDINER is the author of eleven critically acclaimed novels, including the Evan Delaney series, of which China Lake won the Edgar Award. Originally from Santa Barbara, California, she divides her time between Austin, Texas, and London. ***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof*** Copyright © 2014 Meg Gardiner   1   When it started, Harper Flynn had a fifth of vodka in her hand, six shot glasses lined up on the bar in front of her, and a stinging cut on her arm from a broken beer bottle. Music rained through the refurbished warehouse, a sheet of noise. Harper poured the martini into a chilled glass. Down the crowded bar, a banker waved his empty highball glass and a twenty. She nodded. Macallan, neat, with a Stella back—she’d get to him. She’d get to them all. Eleven p.m. and she was halfway through her shift. She slid the martini glass toward the man in the suit. “Fourteen-fifty.” He frowned and shouted over the band. “For an ounce of vodka and an olive?” She smiled. “For turning you into James Bond.” And for not spitting in it. The dance floor was a swerving mass of spangled people. On the walls, flat screens projected glossy music videos. In booths and at tables along the balcony, cooler customers leaned back, holding court over bottles of Bollinger. The stage lights skewed the space b