It should have been a night to remember, but Maura Isles can’t recall a thing.
Maura is at a party. A handsome man approaches. He’s charming and sophisticated. She flirts and drinks champagne. And then nothing. Total blackness. Nothing, that is, apart from these two facts: a man is dead and her address is found in his pocket . . .
Maura is at a party. A handsome man approaches. He’s charming and sophisticated. She flirts and drinks champagne. And then nothing. Total blackness. Nothing, that is, apart from these two facts: a man is dead and her address is found in his pocket . . .