9th Judgment

Book 9: A Women's Murder Club Thriller

by James Patterson, Maxine Paetro

Genres: Mystery

Synopsis

A young woman and her infant child are ruthlessly gunned down while returning to their car in the garage of a shopping mall. Detective Lindsay Boxer discovers only one shred of evidence: a foreboding and cryptic message written in blood red lipstick on a windshield. The same night, the wife of A-list actor Marcus Dowling walks in on a cat burglar. In just seconds there is an empty safe, a lifeless body, and another mystery that throws San Francisco into hysteria. With two criminals to capture, and her lust for Rich challenging her love for Joe, Lindsay summons her friends in the Women’s Murder Club. Lindsay is asked to put her own life on the line—but will it be enough?

Release date: April 10, 2010

Publisher: Little, Brown and Company

Print pages: 448

Sample

16th Seduction (with Maxine Paetro)



15th Affair (with Maxine Paetro)



14th Deadly Sin (with Maxine Paetro)



Unlucky 13 (with Maxine Paetro)



12th of Never (with Maxine Paetro)



11th Hour (with Maxine Paetro)



10th Anniversary (with Maxine Paetro)



The 9th Judgment (with Maxine Paetro)



The 8th Confession (with Maxine Paetro)



7th Heaven (with Maxine Paetro)



The 6th Target (with Maxine Paetro)



The 5th Horseman (with Maxine Paetro)



4th of July (with Maxine Paetro)



3rd Degree (with Andrew Gross)



2nd Chance (with Andrew Gross)



First to Die

Cross the Line

Cross Justice

Hope to Die

Cross My Heart

Alex Cross, Run

Merry Christmas, Alex Cross

Kill Alex Cross

Cross Fire

I, Alex Cross

Alex Cross’s Trial (with Richard DiLallo)

Cross Country

Double Cross

Cross (also published as Alex Cross)

Mary, Mary

London Bridges

The Big Bad Wolf

Four Blind Mice

Violets Are Blue

Roses Are Red

Pop Goes the Weasel

Cat & Mouse

Jack & Jill

Kiss the Girls

Along Came a Spider

Bullseye (with Michael Ledwidge)

Alert (with Michael Ledwidge)

Burn (with Michael Ledwidge)

Gone (with Michael Ledwidge)

I, Michael Bennett (with Michael Ledwidge)

Tick Tock (with Michael Ledwidge)

Worst Case (with Michael Ledwidge)

Run for Your Life (with Michael Ledwidge)

Step on a Crack (with Michael Ledwidge)

Missing: A Private Novel (with Kathryn Fox)

The Games (with Mark Sullivan)

Private Paris (with Mark Sullivan)

Private Vegas (with Maxine Paetro)

Private India: City on Fire (with Ashwin Sanghi)

Private Down Under (with Michael White)

Private L.A. (with Mark Sullivan)

Private Berlin (with Mark Sullivan)

Private London (with Mark Pearson)

Private Games (with Mark Sullivan)

Private: #1 Suspect (with Maxine Paetro)

Private (with Maxine Paetro)

NYPD Red 4 (with Marshall Karp)

NYPD Red 3 (with Marshall Karp)

NYPD Red 2 (with Marshall Karp)

NYPD Red (with Marshall Karp)

Second Honeymoon (with Howard Roughan)

Now You See Her (with Michael Ledwidge)

Swimsuit (with Maxine Paetro)

Sail (with Howard Roughan)

Beach Road (with Peter de Jonge)

Lifeguard (with Andrew Gross)

Honeymoon (with Howard Roughan)

The Beach House (with Peter de Jonge)

Two from the Heart (with Frank Constantini, Emily Raymond, and Brian Sitts)

The Black Book (with David Ellis)

Humans, Bow Down (with Emily Raymond)

Never Never (with Candice Fox)

Woman of God (with Maxine Paetro)

Filthy Rich (with John Connolly and Timothy Malloy)

The Murder House (with David Ellis)

Truth or Die (with Howard Roughan)

Miracle at Augusta (with Peter de Jonge)

Invisible (with David Ellis)

First Love (with Emily Raymond)

Mistress (with David Ellis)

Zoo (with Michael Ledwidge)

Guilty Wives (with David Ellis)

The Christmas Wedding (with Richard DiLallo)

Kill Me If You Can (with Marshall Karp)

Toys (with Neil McMahon)

Don’t Blink (with Howard Roughan)

The Postcard Killers (with Liza Marklund)

The Murder of King Tut (with Martin Dugard)

Against Medical Advice (with Hal Friedman)

Sundays at Tiffany’s (with Gabrielle Charbonnet)

You’ve Been Warned (with Howard Roughan)

The Quickie (with Michael Ledwidge)

Judge & Jury (with Andrew Gross)

Sam’s Letters to Jennifer

The Lake House

The Jester (with Andrew Gross)

Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas

Cradle and All

When the Wind Blows

Miracle on the 17th Green (with Peter de Jonge)

Hide & Seek

The Midnight Club

Black Friday (originally published as Black Market)

See How They Run (originally published as The Jericho Commandment)

Season of the Machete

The Thomas Berryman Number

Maximum Ride Forever

Nevermore: The Final Maximum Ride Adventure

Angel: A Maximum Ride Novel

Fang: A Maximum Ride Novel

Max: A Maximum Ride Novel

The Final Warning: A Maximum Ride Novel

Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports: A Maximum Ride Novel

School’s Out—Forever: A Maximum Ride Novel

The Angel Experiment: A Maximum Ride Novel

Daniel X: Lights Out (with Chris Grabenstein)

Daniel X: Armageddon (with Chris Grabenstein)

Daniel X: Game Over (with Ned Rust)

Daniel X: Demons & Druids (with Adam Sadler)

Daniel X: Watch the Skies (with Ned Rust)

The Dangerous Days of Daniel X (with Michael Ledwidge)

Witch & Wizard: The Lost (with Emily Raymond)

Witch & Wizard: The Kiss (with Jill Dembowski)

Witch & Wizard: The Fire (with Jill Dembowski)

Witch & Wizard: The Gift (with Ned Rust)

Witch & Wizard (with Gabrielle Charbonnet)

Middle School: Dog’s Best Friend (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Jomike Tejido)

Middle School: Just My Rotten Luck (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Laura Park)

Middle School: Save Rafe (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Laura Park)

Middle School: Ultimate Showdown (with Julia Bergen, illustrated by Alec Longstreth)

Middle School: How I Survived Bullies, Broccoli, and Snake Hill (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Laura Park)

Middle School: Big Fat Liar (with Lisa Papademetriou, illustrated by Neil Swaab)

Middle School: Get Me Out of Here! (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Laura Park)

Middle School, The Worst Years of My Life (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Laura Park)

Confessions: The Murder of an Angel (with Maxine Paetro)

Confessions: The Paris Mysteries (with Maxine Paetro)

Confessions: The Private School Murders (with Maxine Paetro)

Confessions of a Murder Suspect (with Maxine Paetro)

I Funny TV (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Laura Park)

I Totally Funniest (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Laura Park)

I Even Funnier (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Laura Park)

I Funny: A Middle School Story (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Laura Park)

Treasure Hunters: Peril at the Top of the World (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Juliana Neufeld)

Treasure Hunters: Secret of the Forbidden City (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Juliana Neufeld)

Treasure Hunters: Danger Down the Nile (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Juliana Neufeld)

Treasure Hunters (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Juliana Neufeld)

House of Robots: Robots Revolution (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Juliana Neufeld)

House of Robots: Robots Go Wild! (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Juliana Neufeld)

House of Robots (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Juliana Neufeld)

Word of Mouse (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Joe Sutphin)

Give Please a Chance (with Bill O’Reilly)

Cradle and All (teen edition)

Jacky Ha-Ha (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Kerascoët)

Public School Superhero (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Cory Thomas)

Homeroom Diaries (with Lisa Papademetriou, illustrated by Keino)

Med Head (with Hal Friedman)

santaKid (illustrated by Michael Garland)

For previews and information about the author, visit JamesPatterson.com or find him on Facebook or at your app store.

SARAH WELLS STOOD on the roof of the carport and snaked her gloved hand through the hole she’d cut in the glass. Her pulse
was thudding in her ears as she unlocked the double-hung window, opened the sash, and slid quietly into the darkened room.
Once inside, she flattened herself against the wall and listened.


Voices rose from the floor below, and she heard the clanking of silverware against china. Good timing, Sarah thought. In fact, perfect.

But timing and execution were two different things entirely.

She switched on her miner’s headlamp and took a 180-degree illuminated tour of the bedroom. She noted the console table to
her left, which was loaded with whatnots. She had to watch out for that table and the scatter rugs on the slick hardwood floors.


The lithe young woman quickly crossed the space, shut the door between the bedroom and hallway, and headed to the open closet,
which smelled faintly of perfume. Leaving the door open just a crack, Sarah played her light over racks of clothing. She parted
a curtain of long, beaded gowns, and there it was: a safe in the closet wall.


Sarah had bet on this. If Casey Dowling was like most socialites, she dressed for her dinner parties and wore her jewels.
Chances were that she’d left her safe unlocked so she could put her jewels away later without having to punch in the combination
again. Sarah tugged lightly on the safe’s handle—and the heavy door swung open.


It was a go.

But she had to work fast. Three minutes, no more.

Sarah’s headlamp lit up the contents of the safe while leaving her hands free to frisk the jumble of satin envelopes and silk-covered
boxes. Way in the back was a brocaded box the size of a small loaf of bread. She undid the latch and lifted the lid on the
mother lode.


Sarah gasped.

She’d read stories about Casey Dowling for two months and seen dozens of photos of her at society events, glittering with
jewels. But she hadn’t expected the sheer weight of diamonds and precious stones, the gleaming mounds of baroque pearls.


It was cra-zzzy. Casey Dowling owned all of this.

Well, not for long.

Sarah plucked bracelets and earrings and rings out of the box and stowed them in one of her two small duffel bags, the straps
of which crisscrossed her chest. She paused to study a particular ring in its own leather case, to marvel at the frickin’
wonder of it—when lights flashed on in the bedroom only yards from where she stood in the closet.


Sarah snapped off her light and dropped to a crouch, her heart rate shooting into overdrive as she heard the living, booming
voice of Marcus Dowling, superstar actor of theater and the silver screen, bickering with his wife as he came into the room.


Sarah tucked all five feet eight of herself into a ball behind gowns and garment bags.

God, she was stupid.

While she’d been ogling the jewels, the Dowlings’ dinner party had ended, and now she was going to get caught and be imprisoned
for grand larceny. Her. A high school English teacher. It would be a scandal—and that was the least of it.


Sweat broke out under Sarah’s knit cap. Drops of it rolled from her underarms down the sides of her black turtleneck as she
waited for the Dowlings to switch on the closet light and find her squatting there, a thief in the night.


CASEY DOWLING WAS trying to squeeze an admission from her husband, but Marcus wasn’t having it.

“What the hell, Casey?” he snapped. “I wasn’t staring at Sheila’s boobs, for Christ’s sake. Every single time we get together
with people, you complain that I’m leering, and frankly, sweetheart, I find your paranoia very unattractive.”


“Ohhhh no, Marcus. You? Leer at another woman? I’m soooo ashamed of myself for even having had the thought.” Casey had a lovely
laugh, even when it was colored with sarcasm.


“Silly cow,” Marcus Dowling muttered.

Sarah imagined his handsome face, the thick gray hair falling across his brow as he scowled. She imagined Casey, too—her willowy
shape, her white-blond hair falling in a silvery sheet to her shoulder blades.


Casey cooed, “There, there. I’ve hurt your feelings.”

“Forget it, love. I’m not in the mood now.”

“Oh. Sorry. My mistake.”

Sarah felt the rebuff as if it had happened to her. Then Marcus said, “Oh, for pity’s sake. Don’t cry. Come here.”

The room went quiet for a few minutes, until Sarah heard a whoosh of bodies falling into plumped bedding, then murmuring—words she couldn’t make out. Then the headboard began to tap against
the wall, and Sarah thought, Oh dear God, they’re doing it.

Images came to her of Marcus Dowling in Susan and James with Jennifer Lowe and in Redboy with Kimberly Kerry. She thought of Casey in Marcus’s arms, her long legs wrapped around him. The tapping became more rhythmic
and the moaning became louder and then there was a long, groaning exhalation from Marcus, and then—mercifully—it was over.


Someone used the bathroom after that, and finally the room went black.


Sarah squatted quietly behind the curtain of gowns for at least twenty minutes, and when the breathing outside the closet
settled into sputters and snores, she opened the door and crawled to the window.


She was almost home free—but not there yet.

Sarah was quick and quiet as she vaulted to the windowsill, but when one leg followed the other, she hit the side of the console
table—and it all went wrong.


There was the tinkling of sliding whatnots as the table tipped and then crashed, sending its load of picture frames and perfume
bottles to the floor.


Holy crap.

Sarah froze, mind and body, as Casey Dowling bolted into a sitting position and yelled, “Who’s there?”

Sarah’s stark fear propelled her out the window. She hung on to the roof of the carport with all the strength in her fingertips,
then released her grip and made the ten-foot drop.


She landed on grass, knees bent, no pain. And as the Dowlings’ bedroom light came on overhead, Sarah ran. She ripped off her
headlamp and stuffed it into one of the duffels as she sprinted through the upscale San Francisco neighborhood of Nob Hill.


A few minutes later Sarah found her old Saturn where she’d left it in the parking lot outside a drugstore. She got into the
car, closed the door, and locked it, as if that could keep out her fear. She started up the engine and released the hand brake,
still panting, trying not to throw up as she drove toward home.


When she hit the straightaway of Pine Street, Sarah pulled off her cap and gloves, wiped her brow with the back of her hand,
and thought hard about her escape from the Dowlings’ bedroom.


She’d left nothing: no tools, no prints, no DNA. No nothing.

For now, at least, she was safe.

Honestly. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

CASEY’S EYES FLEW open in the dark.

Something had crashed. The table by the window! She felt a breeze on her face. The window was open. They never opened that
window.


Someone was inside the house.

Casey sat up. “Who’s there?” She clutched the blankets to her chin and screamed, “Marc! Someone is in the room.”

Her husband groaned, “You’re dreaming. Go back to sleep.”

“Wake up! Someone is here,” she hissed.


Casey fumbled with the table lamp, knocked her glasses onto the floor, found the switch, and turned on the light. There. The console table was turned over, everything broken, curtains blowing in the breeze.


“Do something, Marc. Do something.”


Marcus Dowling worked out every day. He could still bench-press two hundred pounds, and he knew how to use a gun. He told
his wife to be quiet, then opened his nightstand drawer and removed the .44 he kept fully loaded in a soft leather bag. He
shucked the sack and gripped the gun.


Casey grabbed the bedside phone and pressed the numbers 9-1-1 with a shaking hand. She misdialed, then tried again as Marc,
still half drunk, bellowed, “Who’s there?” Even when he was serious, he sounded scripted. “Show yourself.”

Marcus looked in the bathroom and the hallway, then said, “There’s no one here, Casey. Just what I said.”

Casey dropped the phone back into its cradle, shoved at the bedcovers, and went to the closet for her robe—and screamed.

“What is it now?”

White-faced, naked, Casey turned to her husband and said, “Oh my God, Marc, my jewelry is gone. The safe is almost empty.”


A look came over Marc’s face that was hard for Casey to read. It was as if he’d had an idea, and the idea was catching fire.
Did he know who robbed them?


“Marc? What is it? What are you thinking?”

“Ah, I was thinking, You can’t take it with you.”


“What kind of bullshit is that? What do you mean?”

Dowling extended his right arm and aimed the gun at a mole between his wife’s breasts. He pulled the trigger. Boom.

“That’s what I mean,” he said.


Casey Dowling opened her mouth, sucked in air, and exhaled as she looked down at her chest, at the blood pumping and bubbling
out of the wound. She clasped her hands to her chest. She looked at her husband and gasped, “Help me.”


He shot her again.

Then her knees buckled and she went down.

PETER GORDON FOLLOWED the young mom out of Macy’s and into the street outside the Stonestown Galleria. Mom was about thirty,
her brown hair in a messy ponytail, wearing a lot of red: not just shorts but red sneakers and a red purse. Shopping bags
hung from the handles of her baby’s stroller.


Pete was behind the woman when she crossed Winston Drive, still almost on her heels as she entered the parking garage, talking
to the infant as if he could understand her, asking him if he remembered where Mommy parked the car and what Daddy was making
for dinner, chattering away, the whole running baby-talk commentary like a fuse lit by the woman’s mouth, terminating at the
charge inside Petey’s brain.


But Petey stayed focused on his target. He listened and watched, kept his head down, hands in his pockets, and saw the woman
unlock the hatch of her RAV4 and jam her shopping bags inside. He was only yards away from her when she hoisted the baby out
of the stroller and folded the carriage into the back, too.


The woman was strapping the boy into the car seat when Pete started toward . . .