By Jodi Picoult
An problematic and unstable story of affection and suspense within which an unsolved, many years outdated homicide haunts a small New England city. In Jodi Picoult's eeriest and such a lot engrossing paintings but, it is a tale concerning the issues that come again to hang-out us, actually and metaphorically.
whilst a plot of land is being built in Vermont opposed to the desire of a neighborhood local American tribe, unusual issues start to take place - and Ross Wakeman, a mystical investigator, is requested to become involved. He's a determined drifter who's taken up ghost searching so as to move paths back together with his fiancee, who died in a motor vehicle crash 8 years in the past, yet he has but to event whatever even remotely paranormal. Then Ross meets Lia . . . As a seventy-year-old homicide case is reopened, a stunning mystery a few crime of ardour long gone is revealed.
Jodi Picoult's eeriest and so much engrossing paintings but, this can be a tale in regards to the issues that come again to hang-out us - actually and metaphorically. technological know-how is pitted opposed to the supernatural, and Picoult examines why we have a tendency to think about technological know-how as target, whilst it really is consistently on the mercy of these who interpret it. Is destiny any further trustworthy than twist of fate? And is love any much less genuine simply because it has no scale of dimension?
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Extra resources for Second Glance
They’ve got to squat. It must be hell. ” The phone rang. “Listen, Shithead, you’ve got a woman in your office. ” “I can hear her breathing! ” “No, Harry, that’s impossible. I’ll call you back. We might give you $500 for a semi. ” “Shithead, you’re so tight, you’ve never ever given me anything! And what’s a semi? Who wants half a fuck? ” I hung up then took the phone off the receiver. Carol looked at me. ” “I could hear her voice, Doug. I want you to keep your sex life out of the office. And no more stinkers like that last one.
Harry stared at the parrot. The parrot stared back. Then the parrot looked away, bored. She handed him the drink. ” “Maybe. ” Harry did that. Janice got up and walked out. He waited. Janice walked back in. She threw the material on his lap. ” Harry picked it up and looked at it. “Great Grandmother of Christ, don’t you know I’m half-crazy already? ” “Seventy-five bucks. ” Harry carried the stuff into the bedroom: a little boy’s short pants—black—and a blouse, ruffled, silky and white; underwear with designs of rockinghorses, moons and candy canes upon it; two ankle-length stockings, white.
He’d keep hitting that car until it climbed up over the curbing and stopped. Then Eddie would stop the car and glare at them and I’d sit there and glare at them right along with Eddie. Then we’d drive off and find another car and do the same thing. We got 4 or 5 cars that way. “You’re a vicious son of a bitch, Eddie. ” I let that go. Soon we seemed to be driving along in the country. There were trees and space everywhere. Eddie stopped the car. “Get out,” he said. I got out. K,” he said, “I want that 500 dollar check.
Second Glance by Jodi Picoult