By Dean Koontz
With every new novel, Dean Koontz increases the stakes—and the heartbeat rate—higher than the other writer. Now, in what might be his such a lot suspenseful and heartfelt novel ever, he brings us the tale of a regular guy whose striking dedication to his spouse will take him on a harrowing trip of event, sacrifice, and redemption to the secret of affection itself—and to a showdown with the darkness that will spoil it forever.
What might you do for romance? might you die? may you kill?
We have your spouse. you may get her again for 2 million funds. Landscaper Mitchell Rafferty thinks it needs to be a few type of comic story. He was once in the course of planting impatiens within the backyard of 1 of his consumers whilst his cellular phone rang. Now he’s status in a typical suburban local on a shiny summer season day, having a mobilephone dialog out of his darkest nightmare.
Whoever is at the different finish of the road is lifeless severe. He has Mitch’s spouse and he’s named the cost for her secure go back. The caller doesn’t care that Mitch runs a small two-man landscaping operation and has no approach of elevating this type of monstrous sum. He’s convinced that Mitch will have the opportunity.
If he loves his spouse sufficient. . . Mitch does love her adequate. He loves her greater than existence itself. He’s bought seventy-two hours to turn out it. He has to discover the 2 million by means of then. yet he’ll pay much more. He’ll pay anything.
From its demanding commencing to its shattering climax, The Husband is a mystery that might carry you in its relentless grip for each twist, each surprise, each revelation…until it permits you to cross, unmistakably replaced. this can be a Dean Koontz novel, in the end. And there’s no different event fairly love it.
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Additional info for The Husband
Last night I’d counted seven—five men and two women—including my three targets. Of course, there may be other people inside that I’d missed. This was going to be interesting. Unlike the front door, their apartment door was a joke. They apparently thought being gang members meant they didn’t need decent security. They thought wrong. I took out my Glock and tried to stop hyperventilating. Breaking into someone’s place is scary as hell. It always is. 63 One hard kick and the door burst inward. A guy on the couch, sleeping in front of the TV.
He found the remote and switched on the set, watching from the foot of his bed. A grainy image filled the screen, like bad footage from one of those media helicopters covering a police car chase. It was an aerial shot of a compound of some sort. Scores of small dwellings and other, larger buildings dotted the windswept landscape. There were patches of green, but overall the terrain had an arid quality, perfect for iguanas and banana rats—except for all the fences. Jack noticed miles of them. One- and two-lane roads cut across the topography like tiny scars, and a slew of vehicles seemed to be moving at high speed, though they looked like matchbox cars from this vantage point.
I left the bakery and headed for the bus. Ti had paid me enough to afford a cab, or even a limo, but cabs and limos kept records. Besides, I preferred to save my money for more impor- 62 tant things, like drugs and hookers. I try to live every day as if it’s my last. After all, it very well might be. The bus arrived, and again everyone took great pains not to stare. The trip was short, only about two miles, taking me to a neighborhood known as Pilsen, on Racine and Eighteenth. I left my duck egg moon cake and my red bean ball on the bus for some other lucky passenger to enjoy, then stepped out into Little Mexico.
The Husband by Dean Koontz