By Michel Bussi
Hailed as "a novel so notable that it jogged my memory of studying Stieg Larsson for the first actual time" (Sunday instances, UK), a near-million replica bestseller in Europe--centered on a sad aircraft crash within the Alps and the secret surrounding its in simple terms survivor, an baby girl.
A evening flight from Istanbul sure for Paris, choked with 169 vacation tourists, plummets into the Swiss Alps. the only real survivor is a three-month-old girl--thrown from the airplane onto the snowy mountainside earlier than hearth rages during the plane. yet babies have been on board. Is the miracle child Lyse-Rose or Emilie? either households breakthrough to assert the child--one negative, one strong, prosperous, and dangerous.
Filled with scrumptious twists and riveting mental suspense, After the Crash is an electrifying tale of a two-decade secret, mystery love, and murder--perfect for the readers who swarmed to Stieg Larsson, long past lady, and the woman at the teach.
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Holding on for her life, before it slipped away entirely, in falls and headaches and the horrifying sense of sliding away into insanity. All the bad things simply . . stopped. Her taut muscles loosened, her eyes closed, her nose was buried in a sweater that smelled of fabric softener and man, with a faint tang of smoke. She was being held tightly, engulfed in strong arms and warmth and her mind simply blanked. She was so used to the background buzz of anxiety and fear in her head, a constant hiss of static tinged with darkness, that she simply blissed out at its absence.
Interested. ” It had been so long since she‟d felt anything like this, since she‟d been part of that whole manwoman thing. Her only contact with men over the past nine months had been with doctors and physical therapists, then lawyers as she settled her father‟s estate. She‟d nearly forgotten that she was a woman. Daniel Weston made her feel female once again. She felt a connection to him and even though it was probably a sign of her craziness, because the connection was in her dreams, right at this moment she didn‟t feel cold and alone and listless, which had been her default emotional setting for more time than she cared to think about.
He touched his baseball cap with his index finger in a salute, then took off with a squeal of t ires, leaving her completely alone on the deserted street. The trip had been such a nightmare. She‟d regretted it the moment she‟d left the house in the pouring rain. The taxi had got caught in a jam due to the sudden downpour, tipping her out at departures barely in time to make it to the gate. Two huge Airbuses were boarding and the gates were crowded with far more passengers than the relatively small Tampa airport was equipped to handle.