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Invisible
Invisible
Fiction/General
Hardcover
ISBN: 0316405345
$28.00/U.S.
416 pages
Little, Brown and Company

Everyone thinks Emmy Dockery is crazy. Obsessed with finding the link between hundreds of unsolved cases, Emmy has taken leave from her job as an FBI researcher. Now all she has are the newspaper clippings that wallpaper her bedroom, and her nightly recurring nightmares of an all-consuming fire.

Not even Emmy's ex-boyfriend, field agent Harrison "Books" Bookman, will believe her that hundreds of kidnappings, rapes, and murders are all connected. That is, until Emmy finds a piece of evidence he can't afford to ignore. More murders are reported by the day—and they're all inexplicable. No motives, no murder weapons, no suspects. Could one person really be responsible for these unthinkable crimes?

Invisible
Fiction/General
Hardcover
ISBN: 0316405345
$28.00/U.S.
416 pages
Little, Brown and Company

Chapter 4

“Graham Session” Recording # 1 August 21, 2012

Welcome to my world. You can call me Graham, and I’ll be your host.

You don’t know me. My anonymity is a testament to my success. As I’m sitting here talking to you, I’m not famous. But I will be when these recordings are released, whenever it is that I decide to release them. Then I’ll be on the front page of every newspaper and magazine around the world. They will write books about me. They will study me at Quantico. Websites will be devoted to me. Movies made.

You will never know my real identity —“Graham” may or may not be my real name—so whatever you know about me will come from these audio files, my oral diary. You will know what I let you know. I may tell you everything and I may leave some things out. I may tell you the truth and I may lie to you.

A bit about me to start: I was sufficiently athletic to play high school sports but not enough to go beyond. I got good grades in school but not enough for the Ivy League, so it was a state university for me. I absolutely detest onions of any variety, cooked or raw, a vile weed no matter its iteration. I can speak three languages, though my French borders on the embarrassing at this point. But I can say no onions please, or the functional equivalent of that phrase, in no less than eleven languages, having recently added Greek and Albanian to my tally. I prefer your basic pop music to classical or adult alternative or heavy metal, but I don’t admit that to my friends. I once ran a half marathon in one hour and thirty-seven minutes. I don’t exercise regularly now. And I never, ever drink light beer.

Two of the things I just told you aren’t true.

But this one is: I’ve killed a lot of people. More than you’d believe.

And you? I don’t even know who you are, the person to whom I’m addressing this narrative: a sentient being, perhaps the spirit of one of my victims? A tiny demon perched on my shoulder, whispering dark thoughts in my ear? An FBI profiler. An enterprising reporter. Or just an ordinary citizen listening to these audio files on the Internet someday, hovering over the computer with lascivious fascination, hungry for any morsel, any kernel of information, any insight whatsoever into The. Mind. Of. A. Madman!

Because, of course, that’s what you’ll do —you’ll try to understand me, diagnose me. It makes you feel comfortable and safe to do that, to assign me to some nice, neat category. You’ll ascribe my behavior to a mother who didn’t show me love, a traumatic event that redefined me, a mental illness in the DSM-IV.

But here is what you’ll find instead: I could be chatting you up in a neighborhood bar, or trimming the hedges next door, or sitting next to you on a jet from New York to Los Angeles, and you would never even notice me. Oh, in hindsight, sure, you might pick out something about me that seemed off. But in real time, when I’m standing right in front of you or sharing an armrest or seated across from you, I would make no impression on you. I would be a set of data collected and immediately discarded. I would seem, in a word, normal. And do you know why?

No, you don’t know why. But I do. It’s why I’m so good at what I do. And why nobody will ever catch me.

[END]

Copyright © 2014 by James Patterson

Invisible
Fiction/General
Audiobook (Unabridged CD)
ISBN: 1478900342
$35.00/U.S.
Hachette Audio

Read by January LaVoy and Kevin Collins

Audio Excerpts (MP3)
Invisible
Fiction/General
Hardcover
ISBN: 0316405345
$28.00/U.S.
416 pages
Little, Brown and Company
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