by David Ellis
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
June 1989
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
June 5, 1997
Chapter 8
June 2005
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Acknowledgements
“Ellis follows up last year’s intriguing In the Company of Liars with an even better book that will only improve his growing reputation. Eye of the Beholder, a powerful novel about sex, murder, and a quest for the truth, is one of the standout books of the summer. Too many so-called legal thrillers are really just lackluster mysteries, with little in the way of pacing or tension. Eye of the Beholder, however, is a genuine page-turner, powered by winning characters and a wonderfully serpentine plot.”
—Chicago Sun-Times
“There is nothing more unsettling, and yet ultimately absorbing, than a novel filled with plot twists and false endings. Edgar® Award—winning David Ellis provides just that. What makes Ellis’s book so thoroughly enjoyable is that the twists and turns keep coming, page after page. Not even the most observant of readers will be able to discover the root of these grisly crimes before the stunning ending. Ellis’s plot is like an elaborate labyrinth filled with false doorways and stairs going nowhere. Still, it’s an incredible ride and one that will stick with the reader long after the last page is turned.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
“Nothing is as it seems in this stunning tale of illicit sex, murder, and betrayal.... Juggling multiple viewpoints, Ellis keeps perfect control of his labyrinthine plot as it builds to a satisfying twist ending.”
—Publishers Weekly
“You’ll sleep with the light on after reading [Eye of the Beholder].”
—People
“The author’s fifth novel ... cements his reputation as a top-notch thriller writer.... Tightly plotted and sparklingly written, a sure-fire winner and a fine read alike for legal thrillers.”
—Booklist
“Another top-flight legal thriller from Edgaf®-winner -winner Ellis, brim ming with quality prose and layered characterizations.”
—Kirkus Reviews
IN THE COMPANY OF LIARS
“A nail-biting thriller.”
—People
“Edgar®-winner Ellis takes some big chances in his fourth book, and he pulls them off in grand style.... This is another impressive performance from a writer who expands his ambition and artistry from book to book.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Very smart ... [a] complex, highly intelligent thriller that burrows backward through time like Houdini explaining a trick.”
—Lee Child, New York Times bestselling author
“Eminently satisfying.”
—Orlando Sentinel
“Just when you thought there was nothing new a writer could do with the mystery genre, David Ellis decided to turn the formula upside-down and, yes, backward.”
—Boston Herald
JURY OF ONE
“Smashes through the barriers of coincidence and credulity, leaving readers breathless at the author’s audacity.”
—Chicago Tribune
“Compelling.”
—Entertainment Weekly
“[A] terrific legal thriller ... in the tradition of Scott Turow and even superstar John Grisham.... The twists and turns are always surprising, the courtroom politics interesting, and the story a grabber from start to finish.”
—Toronto Sun
“Among would-be Grishams and Turows, he’s a breakaway talent.”
—The Hollywood Reporter
“A steady stream of twists and complications ... a stunning Perry Mason-style courtroom shocker will knock readers right out of their seats. After they pick themselves up off the floor, the ensuing fast and furious revelations will have them flying through the final pages.”
—Publishers Weekly
LIFE SENTENCE
“Ellis balances plot, setting, pacing, characterization, and surprises in just the right measure to create a compelling high-stakes courtroom drama. He also takes time to explore the psyche of lawyers, as Turow does so well.”
—Katy Munger, The Washington Post
“Who does Ellis think he is—John Grisham? The answer to that has to be, Yes—with any luck. Ellis certainly writes as well as his Georgia colleague, and his plotting is even sharper.”
—Chicago Tribune
“Chilling ... a tale combining betrayal, tense courtroom drama, family tragedy, and a quick twist of surprise at the end. It was hard to put down.”
—San Antonio Express-News
LINE OF VISION
Edgar® Award winner
“The best suspense novel I’ve read in a while.”
—James Patterson, author of London Bridges
“A fresh take on the legal thriller. Crackles with unexpected twists.”
—San Francisco Chronicle
“Don’t think you can put Line of Vision down—you can’t. David Ellis won’t let you go, from the first tantalizing page to the final double twist”
—Barbara Parker, New York Times bestselling author of Suspicion of Rage
“The most original and exciting thriller I’ve read in a long time. Starts at a fever pitch and never lets up.”
—J. F. Freedman, New York Times bestselling author of Fallen Idols
Titles by David Ellis
EYE OF THE BEHOLDER
IN THE COMPANY OF LIARS
JURY OF ONE
LIFE SENTENCE
LINE OF VISION
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
EYE OF THE BEHOLDER
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Copyright © 2007 by David Ellis.
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For Sally Nystrom
June 1989
The “Mansbury
Massacre”
A source in the Marion Park Police Department confirms
that the body count is six. Six bodies have been discovered
in the basement of Bramhall Auditorium on the Mansbury
College campus. We have no word yet on whether the bodies
include the missing Mansbury students, Cassandra
Bentley and Elisha Danzinger.
—Carolyn Pendry, Newscenter 4, 1:18 P.M., June 26, 1989
Marion Park Police have arrested Terrance Demetrius
Burgos, 36, a part-time handyman at Mansbury College,
in the murders of six young women who were found murdered
and sexually molested in a campus auditorium.
—Daily Watch, June 27, 1989
1
MONDAY, JUNE 26, 1989, 8:32 A.M.
PAUL RILEY followed his police escort, navigated his car through the barricades, and stopped next to a patrol car. He shifted the gear into park, killed the engine, and said a quiet prayer.
Now the storm.
When he opened the door, letting in the thick, humid air, it felt like someone had jacked the volume on the stereo: An officer’s voice, through a bullhorn, warning the spectators and reporters to respect the police barricades. Reporters shouting questions at any officer they could find, some of them now turning to Riley, a man they didn’t know. Cops and medical and forensic technicians shouting instructions to each other. Other reporters, positioned with microphones, speaking loudly into cameras about the breaking news; hundreds of citizens, gathered from everywhere, speculating on what, precisely, had been found inside Bramhall Auditorium.
Riley knew little more than they. The word was, six bodies, young women, mutilated in various ways. Then there was the one additional fact that had been delivered by his boss in a shaky voice:
“They think one of them is Cassie.”
Cassandra Bentley, he’d meant, a student at Mansbury College, but, more important, the daughter of Harland and Natalia Bentley, a family worth billions. Family money. Political contributors. People who mattered. Even the name sounded wealthy.
Riley looked up at the bruised sky, where three news helicopters circled over this corner of the Mansbury College campus. He clipped his badge—all of three weeks old—to his jacket and looked for a uniform. There were plenty of them, in various colors—blue for Marion Park police, brown for deputies from the county sheriff’s office, white for Mansbury security, black from some other jurisdiction, probably brought in for crowd control.
He gave his name, and his title, something he wasn’t used to saying: “First Assistant County Attorney,” the top deputy to the county prosecutor.
“Who’s in charge?” he asked.
“Lightner,” the cop said, gesturing toward the auditorium.
Bramhall Auditorium took up half the block, a dome-topped structure arising from a large concrete staircase, a threshold supported by granite pillars, with a manicured lawn to each side. Riley counted the steps—twelve—and entered the lobby of the auditorium.
It was only slightly less sticky inside. No air-conditioning. School was out. No one was supposed to be using this auditorium this time of year. Access, Riley thought to himself. Who would have access?
Riley moved cautiously. He was new to this job but not to crime scenes. He’d been an assistant U.S. attorney—a federal prosecutor—for many years, and had spent most of the time working on a street gang that was no stranger to violence. Riley groaned at the number of law enforcement officials inside the place. Fewer was always better, but, as he looked around, he realized that little would be gained from all of the fingerprint dusting going on around him. This was an auditorium, with a decent-sized lobby, and a massive theater that, including the balcony, could probably house several thousand people. It would be easier to figure out who hadn’t left their prints.
To the side of the lobby, a door opened—the door, presumably, leading to the basement and the maintenance locker where the bodies were found. An officer stepped out and lifted his gas mask—with its charcoal-impregnated odor filter—just before he vomited on the floor.
Paul found himself instantly wishing for city cops. As a former federal prosecutor, he had a built-in bias against the city cops, too, but anything was preferable, in his mind, to a suburban cop. But jurisdiction was jurisdiction. He wasn’t working with the FBI anymore.
Riley took the gas mask from the spent officer, who was wiping at his mouth. He told the officer to clean up the mess and get some fresh air. He then took a deep breath and opened the access door.
It was a wide staircase, the steps filthy with shoe prints. He kept his hands off the wooden railing. He hit the landing and turned for the final set of stairs.
There were only two uniforms down there when Riley reached the basement. One of them was in the elevator, which had been shut down. The initial flurry of fingerprinting and photographing had probably already happened.
It was a wide hallway with several heavy doors propped open, several storage rooms already combed over with no results. Riley moved down the hall to the last room in the hallway, the room that mattered, feeling his pace slow.
He steeled himself before he took one shuffle step into that last doorway.
The room was large, with rows of chain-link lockers and shelving units, all containing chemicals and cleaning supplies. Mops and brooms and an oversized garbage can with sprayers containing purple and blue fluids attached. And on the floor, lined up, posed, arms at their sides, legs together, were six corpses.
How to explain? People always said words can’t describe. That wasn’t true. He just wouldn’t have known where to begin or end. He’d seen pictures of Dachau and Auschwitz, but those were photographs, capturing the horror and desperation in only two dimensions. He tried it as a defense mechanism, tried to think of these six butchered girls as photos on a page, ignoring the upheaval in his stomach and the adrenaline pounding through his body. He fought to keep his breathing even, his mind clinical.
The first victim was blond, seemingly a beautiful young girl, though the yellowish hue to her skin made her look more like a wax statue. The blow to her sk
ull could only vaguely be seen from her angled head, near the scalp. Far more prominent was the wound to her chest, where her heart had once been. Calling it a wound was insufficient. It was like the life had been ripped from her.
Second victim: The wound across her neck was so gaping that you sensed if you lifted her the head would detach. Her skin had paled as well. She looked more like a mannequin than a human being, or maybe that was yet another defense mechanism. Maybe it was easier to think of them as objects, at least while you were looking at them. That was usually how the offender viewed them, too.
The victim next to her was also naked, had been burned over her entire body with acid, down to her feet and hands. Most of the skin had been scalded off her face, leaving the skeleton, her eyes protruding from the bone in a ghoulish stare. She would have to be identified through dental records. Looked like one of her hands might still have the skin, too, for fingerprint identification.
The fourth victim looked more recent than the first three, more of a natural hue to her skin, but still, to Riley’s eye, not a recent death. Her arms and legs had been severed yet were positioned in the appropriate places, like she was a broken, battered doll. Her eye sockets were bloody, empty crevices. The eyes had been gouged out with a blunt instrument.
