Tim Wallace’s wife died in a boating accident several months ago. Tim was the only eye witness, and one New Jersey cop is sure he killed her. He didn’t, but even if the police eventually clear his name, he’ll never get over this terrible tragedy. On New Year’s Eve, his two best friends and business partners finally convince him to go out for the first time since Maggie’s death, and at their neighborhood pub just a few minutes before midnight, things in Tim Wallace’s life go from bad to worse. “Can you keep a secret? A really big one?” a drunken stranger asks him. Before Tim can say anything or turn away, the man confesses to a months-old murder, even offering as proof the location of the woman’s body. “Now it’s your problem,” he says and walks away. When the man turns out to have been telling the truth, Tim’s life and work are put under the microscope again by the cops, and this time they’re not giving up. But neither is Tim, even when things keep getting worse for him, and eventually he realizes he’s the only person who can figure out what’s really going on—-even if it kills him. David Rosenfelt, popular author of six Andy Carpenter mysteries, including the recent hit Play Dead, delivers his first standalone with Don’t Tell a Soul, combining the suspense and great characters of his mystery series with an unputdownable, thrilling read.
Author
I am a novelist with 27 dogs. I have gotten to this dubious position with absolutely no planning, and at no stage in my life could I have predicted it. But here I am. My childhood was relentlessly normal. The middle of three brothers, loving parents, a middle-class home in Paterson, New Jersey. We played sports, studied sporadically. laughed around the dinner table, and generally had a good time. By comparison, "Ozzie and Harriet's" clan seemed bizarre. I graduated NYU, then decided to go into the movie business. I was stunningly brilliant at a job interview with my uncle, who was President of United Artists, and was immediately hired. It set me off on a climb up the executive ladder, culminating in my becoming President of Marketing for Tri-Star Pictures. The movie landscape is filled with the movies I buried; for every "Rambo", "The Natural" and "Rocky", there are countless disasters. I did manage to find the time to marry and have two children, both of whom are doing very well, and fortunately neither have inherited my eccentricities. A number of years ago, I left the movie marketing business, to the sustained applause of hundreds of disgruntled producers and directors. I decided to try my hand at writing. I wrote and sold a bunch of feature films, none of which ever came close to being actually filmed, and then a bunch of TV movies, some of which actually made it to the small screen. It's safe to say that their impact on the American cultural scene has been minimal. About fourteen years ago, my wife and I started the Tara Foundation, named in honor of the greatest Golden Retriever the world has ever known. We rescued almost 4,000 dogs, many of them Goldens, and found them loving homes. Our own home quickly became a sanctuary for those dogs that we rescued that were too old or sickly to be wanted by others. They surround me as I write this. It's total lunacy, but it works, and they are a happy, safe group. http://us.macmillan.com/author/davidr...
