{"product_id":"the-maze-isbn-9780515122497","title":"The Maze","description":"\u003cb\u003eIn this FBI Thriller, Special Agent Dillon Savich teams up with new agent Lacey Sherlock in a case that leads them back to the murder of Sherlock's sister seven years ago—putting both their lives on the line.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs the head of the FBI’s Criminal Apprehension Unit, Dillon Savich has developed predictive analogue programs to aid in the capture of serial killers. Enter Lacey Sherlock, a very well-qualified new agent who seems bright and eager and on the up-and-up. But is she really?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen there’s a vicious murder in Boston, she’s off like a shot, lying to Savich. When Savich finds out what’s going on, he realizes they’ll all be in deep trouble, maybe even victims themselves, if he and Sherlock don’t find out who murdered her sister seven years before....\u003cb\u003ePraise for Catherine Coulter’s FBI Thrillers\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Fast-paced.”—\u003ci\u003ePeople\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “This terrific thriller will drag you into its chilling web of terror and not let go until the last paragraph…A ripping good read.”—\u003ci\u003eThe San Francisco Examiner\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A good storyteller...Coulter always keeps the pace brisk.”—\u003ci\u003eFort Worth Star-Telegram\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “With possible blackmail, intra-judiciary rivalries and personal peccadilloes, there’s more than enough intrigue—and suspects—for full court standing in this snappy page-turner…A zesty read.”—\u003ci\u003eBook Page\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Twisted villains...intriguing escapism...The latest in the series featuring likable married FBI agents Lacey Sherlock and Dillon Savich.”—\u003ci\u003eLansing \u003c\/i\u003e(MI)\u003ci\u003e State Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Coulter takes readers on a chilling and suspenseful ride...taut, fast-paced, hard to put down.”—\u003ci\u003eCedar Rapids Gazette\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “The perfect suspense thriller, loaded with plenty of action.”—The Best Reviews\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “The newest installment in Coulter’s FBI series delivers...a fast-moving investigation, a mind-bending mystery.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Fast-paced, romantic...Coulter gets better and more cinematic with each of her suspenseful FBI adventures.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eCatherine Coulter\u003c\/b\u003e is the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the FBI Thrillers featuring husband and wife team Dillon Savich and Lacey Sherlock. She is also the author—with J. T. Ellison—of the Brit in the FBI series. She lives in Sausalito, California.FBI Academy\u003cp\u003eQuantico, Virginia\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe was in Hogan’s Alley, the highest crime rate city in\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe United States. She knew just about every inch of every\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebuilding in this town, certainly better than the actors who\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewere paid eight dollars an hour to play bad guys, and better\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethan many of the bureau employees who were witnesses,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003erobbers and cops every day in Hogan’s Alley.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eToday she and three other trainees were going to catch a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebank robber. She hoped. They were told to keep their eyes\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eopen, nothing else. It was a parade day in Hogan’s Alley.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThere was a crowd of people around, drinking sodas and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eeating hot dogs. It wasn’t going to be easy. Chances were\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat the suspect was going to be one of the people trying to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eblend in with the crowd, trying to look as innocent as an\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eeveryday guy, she’d stake a claim on that. She would have\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egiven anything if they’d gotten just a brief glance at the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003erobber, but they hadn’t. It was a critical situation, lots of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003einnocent civilians milling about and a bank robber who\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewould probably run out of the bank, a bank robber who was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epossibly dangerous.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe saw Buzz Alport, an all-night waiter at a truck stop\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eoff I-95. He was whistling, looking as if he didn’t have a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecare in the world. No, Buzz wasn’t the bad guy today. She\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eknew him too well. She tried to memorize every face, so\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe’d be able to spot the robber if he suddenly appeared. She\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eslowly worked the crowd, trying to look calm and unhurried.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe saw some visitors from the Hill, standing on the sidelines,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewatching the agents role-play crimes and catch criminals.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe couldn’t kill a visiting congressman. It wouldn’t\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elook good for the Bureau.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt began. She and Porter Forge, a Southerner from Birmingham\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewho spoke beautiful French without a hint of a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edrawl, saw a man dash from behind a side door of the bank,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efollowed by a bank employee frantically waving and yelling\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eat the top of his lungs at the fleeing man. She and Forge got\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eno more than a brief glimpse. They went after the robber.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe dove into the crowd of people and disappeared. Because\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethere were civilians around, they kept their guns holstered.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIf any of them hurt a civilian, there’d be hell to pay. It didn’t\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ematter. Three minutes later they’d lost him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was then that she saw Dillon Savich, an FBI agent and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecomputer genius who taught occasional classes here at Quantico,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estanding next to a man she’d never seen before. Both\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewere wearing sunglasses, blue suits and blue-gray ties.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe’d know Savich anywhere. She wondered what he was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edoing here at this particular time. Had he just taught a class?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe’d never heard of him being at Hogan’s Alley. She stared\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eat him. Was it possible that he was the suspect to whom the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebank employee had been waving? Maybe. Only thing was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat he didn’t look at all out of breath and the bank robber\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehad run out of the bank like a bat out of hell. Savich looked\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecool and disinterested.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNah, it couldn’t be Savich. Savich wouldn’t join in the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eexercise, would he? Suddenly, she saw a man some distance\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eaway from her slowly slip his hand into his jacket. Dear God,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehe was going for a gun. She yelled to Porter.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhile the other trainees were distracted, Savich suddenly\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emoved away from the man he’d been talking to and ducked\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebehind three civilians. Three other civilians who were close\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto the other guy were yelling and shoving, trying to get out\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof the way.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhat was going on here?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Sherlock! Where’d he go?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe began to smile even as agents were pushing and shoving,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etrying desperately to sort out who was who. She never\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elost sight of Savich. She slipped into the crowd. It took her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eunder a minute to come around him from behind.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThere was a woman next to him. It was a very possible\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehostage situation. She saw him slowly reach out his hand\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etoward the woman. She couldn’t take the chance. She drew\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher gun, came right up behind him and whispered in his ear\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eas she pressed the nose of the 9mm SIG pistol into the small\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof his back, ‘‘Freeze. FBI.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Ms. Sherlock, I presume?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe felt a moment of uncertainty, then quashed it. She had\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe robber. He was just trying to rattle her. ‘‘Listen to me,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat’s not part of the script. You’re not supposed to know\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eme. Now, get your hands behind your back, buddy, or you’re\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egoing to be in big trouble.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘I don’t think so,’’ he said, and began to turn.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe woman next to them saw the gun and screamed at the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etop of her lungs. ‘‘Oh my God, the robber’s a woman! Here\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe is! She’s going to kill a man. She’s got a gun! Help!’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Damn you, get your hands behind your back!’’ But how\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas she going to get cuffs on him? The woman was still\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyelling. Other people were looking now, not knowing what\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto do. She didn’t have much time.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Do it or I’ll shoot you.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSavich moved so quickly she didn’t have a chance. He\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eknocked the pistol out of her hand with a chop of his right\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehand, numbing her entire arm, bulled his head into her stomach\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand sent her flying, wheezing for breath into a mass of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epetunias in the flower bed beside the Hogan’s Alley Post\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOffice.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe was laughing. The bastard was laughing at her. She\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas sucking in air as hard and fast as she could. Her stomach\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas on fire. He stuck out his hand to pull her up.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘You’re under arrest,’’ she said, and slipped a small Lady\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eColt .38 from her ankle holster. She gave him a big grin.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Don’t move or I’ll do something mean to you.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis laughter died. He looked at that gun, then at her, up\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eon her elbows in the petunia bed. There were a half dozen\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emen and women standing there, watching, their breaths held.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe yelled out, ‘‘Stay back, all of you. This man’s dangerous.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe just robbed the bank. I didn’t do it, he did. I’m FBI.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eStay back!’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘That Colt isn’t bureau issue.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Shut up. No, don’t twitch or I’ll shoot you.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe’d made a very small movement toward her, but she\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewasn’t going to let him get her this time. Into martial arts,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas he? She knew she was smashing the petunias, but she\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edidn’t see any hope for it. Mrs. Shaw would come after her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebecause the flower beds were her pride and joy, but she was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eonly doing her job. She couldn’t let him get the better of her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eagain.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe kept inching away from him, that Colt steady on his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003echest. She came up slowly, keeping her distance. ‘‘Turn\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003earound and put your hands behind you.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘I don’t think so,’’ he said again. She didn’t even see his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eleg, but she did hear the rip of his pants. The Colt went flying\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eonto the sidewalk.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘How’d you do that?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhere were her partners?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhere was Mrs. Shaw, the postmistress? She’d once\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecaught an alleged bank robber by hitting him over the head\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewith a frying pan.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Damn,’’ she heard him say, then he was on her. This\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etime, she moved as quickly as he did. She knew he wouldn’t\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehurt her, just disable her, jerk her onto her face and humiliate\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher in front of everyone. She rolled to the side, came up,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esaw Porter Forge from the corner of her eye, caught the SIG\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efrom him, turned and fired. She got him in mid-leap.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe red paint spread all over the front of his white shirt,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis conservative tie, and his dark blue suit.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe flailed about, managing to keep his balance. He\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estraightened, stared down at her, stared down at his shirt,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egrunted, and fell onto his back into the flower bed, his arms\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eflung out.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Sherlock, you idiot, you just shot the new coach of Hogan’s\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAlley High School’s football team!’’ It was the mayor\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof Hogan’s Alley and he wasn’t happy. He stood over her,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyelling. ‘‘Didn’t you read the paper? Didn’t you see his picture?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYou live here and you don’t know what’s going on?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCoach Savich was hired just last week. My God, you killed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ean innocent man.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘She also made me rip my pants,’’ Savich said, coming\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eup on a graceful motion. He shook himself, wiping dirt off\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis hands onto his filthy pants.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘He tried to kill me,’’ she said, still pointing the SIG at\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSavich.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘I’m already dead, remember? Although you might as\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewell shoot me again; the clothes are ruined.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘He was only defending himself,’’ said the woman who’d\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyelled her head off. ‘‘He’s the new coach and you killed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehim.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe knew she wasn’t wrong.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘I don’t know about that,’’ Porter Forge said, that drawl\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof his so slow she could have said the same thing at least\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethree times before he got it out. ‘‘Suh,’’ he continued to the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emayor who was standing at his elbow, ‘‘I believe I saw a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewanted poster on this big fella. He’s gone and robbed banks\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eall over the South. Yep, that’s where I saw his picture, on\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eone of the Atlanta PD posters, suh. Sherlock here did good.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe brought down a real bad guy.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was an excellent lie, one to give her time to do something,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eanything, to save her hide.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThen she realized what had bothered her about him. His\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eclothes. They didn’t fit him quite right. She reached her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehands into Savich’s pockets and pulled out wads of fake one\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehundred dollar bills.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘I believe ya’ll find the bank’s serial numbers on the bills,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esuh. Don’t you think so, Sherlock?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e ‘‘Oh yes, I surely do, Agent Forge.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Take me away, Ms. Sherlock,’’ Dillon Savich said and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estuck out his hands.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe handed Porter back his SIG. She faced Savich with\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher hands on her hips, a grin on her face. ‘‘Why would I\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehandcuff you now, sir? You’re dead. I’ll get a body bag.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSavich was still laughing when she walked away to the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewaiting paramedic ambulance. He said to the mayor of Hogan’s\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAlley, ‘‘That was well done. She has a nose for crooks.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe sniffed me out and came after me.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSavich walked away, unaware that his royal blue boxer\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshorts were on display to a crowd of a good fifty people.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThen there was rolling laughter. Even a crook who was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eholding a hostage around the throat, a gun to his ear, at the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eother end of town looked over at the sudden noise to see\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhat was going on. It was his downfall. Agent Wallace\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003econked him over the head and laid him flat.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was a good day for taking a bite out of crime in Hogan’s\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAlley.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46299835793637,"sku":"NP9780515122497","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780515122497.jpg?v=1767740450","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-maze-isbn-9780515122497","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}