Martin Misunderstood by Karin Slaughter Page B

riot. Shivs at dawn!
    'Martin?'
    He let the word hang between them for a few
seconds. An seldom used his first name, and
Martin tried to savor every time as if it was
precious. Because it was. Because, as vile and
hateful as his mother could be, she was right
about one thing: the life Martin had in prison
was much better than the one he had when he
was living under her roof. He was a murderer in
here, which actually earned him a modicum of
respect. He had his books. He had a job. And
now . . . was it possible? Was the dream complete
. . . did he actually have Anther?
    'I'll never get out of here,' Martin reminded
her.
    She was looking down, but he could see her
smiling at the thought. 'I know.'
    'Even if my sentence is commuted, I'll never—'
    'I know,' she repeated, looking up at him.
'You'll never be free. You'll never be able to
touch me or be with me or . . .' her voice trailed
off. 'We can't really get married, Martin. Not
officially.'
    'Yes.' He could see that now. An was a
detective and Martin was a convicted triple
murderer (or would be soon. He had another
trial coming up in the spring – the evidence was
not pretty). They were cat and dog, oil and water,
night and day. There were too many things
standing between them; the rice alone was a
logistical nightmare.
    An's voice was soft, lilting. 'No one can ever
know about us, Martin. It'll almost be like you're
a figment of my imagination.' Her face had
colored again, a beautiful shade of red that made
the winter-time eczema around her nostrils
almost disappear. An asked, 'Do you know what
I'm saying, Martin? Do you understand what I
mean?'
    ' Ja ,' he told her. And it was true. Martin finally
understood.

Read on for an extract from
Karin Slaughter's breathtaking
new thriller . . .

Fractured
    A broken window. A bloody footprint. Just the
beginning . . .
    When Atlanta housewife Abigail Campano comes home
unexpectedly one afternoon, she walks into a nightmare.
A broken window, a bloody footprint on the stairs and,
most devastating of all, the horrifying sight of her teenage
daughter lying dead on the landing, a man standing over
her with a bloody knife. The struggle which follows
changes Abigail's life forever.
    When the local police make a misjudgement which not
only threatens the investigation but places a young girl's
life in danger, the case is handed over to Special Agent
Will Trent of the Criminal Apprehension Team – paired
with detective Faith Mitchell, a woman who resents him
from their first meeting.
    But in the relentless heat of a Georgia summer, Will and
Faith realise that they must work together to find the
brutal killer who has targeted one of Atlanta's wealthiest,
most privileged communities – before it's too late . . .

Fractured

PROLOGUE
    Abigail Campano sat in her car parked on the
street outside her own house. She was looking up
at the mansion they had remodeled almost ten
years ago. The house was huge – too much space
for three people, especially since one of them,
God willing, would be going off to college in less
than a year. What would she do with herself once
her daughter was busy starting a new life of her
own? It would be Abigail and Paul again, just like
before Emma was born.
    The thought made her stomach clench.
    Paul's voice crackled through the car speakers
as he came back on the telephone. 'Babe, listen—'
he began, but her mind was already wandering as
she stared up at the house. When had her life
gotten so small? When had the most pressing
questions of her day turned into concerns about
other people, other things: Were Paul's shirts
ready at the tailor? Did Emma have volleyball
practice tonight? Did the decorator order the new
desk for the office? Did somebody remember to
let out the dog or was she going to spend the next
twenty minutes wiping up two gallons of pee off
the kitchen floor?
    Abigail swallowed, her throat tightening.
    'I don't think you're listening to me,' Paul said.
    'I'm listening.' She turned off the car. There