Harlan Coben

Miracle Cure

A Note from the Author

Okay, if this is the first book of mine you’re going to try, stop now. Return it. Grab another. It’s okay. I’ll wait.

If you’re still here, please know that I haven’t read Miracle Cure in at least twenty years. It is my second published novel, one I wrote in my early twenties when I was just a naive lad working in the travel industry and wondering if I should follow my father and brother go to (shudder) law school.

I’m hard on it, but aren’t we all hard on our early stuff? Remember that essay you wrote when you were in school, the one that you got an A plus on, the one your teacher called “inspired”—and one day you’re going through your drawer and you find it and you read it and your heart sinks and you say, “Man, what was I thinking?”

That’s how it is with early novels sometimes. This one is a bit preachy in spots and sometimes dated (though in truth, I wish the medical stuff was more dated, but that’s another matter). You might think I based part of this on a “real-life” situation. I didn’t. This book predates that event. I won’t say more because it could be a spoiler.

Finally, flawed and all, I love this book. There are an energy and risk-taking in Miracle Cure that I wonder if I still have. I’m not this guy anymore, but that’s okay. None of us is stagnant with our passion and our work. That’s a good thing.

Enjoy

PRAISE FOR HARLAN COBEN AND HIS BESTSELLING NOVELS

“Coben again keeps the reader off-balance with innovative story lines and diabolical bad guys.”

— People

“More twists and turns than an amusement park ride.”

— USA Today

“Every time you think Harlan Coben couldn’t get any better at uncoiling a whip snake of a page-turner, he comes along with a new novel that somehow surpasses its predecessor.”

— San Francisco Chronicle

“An exhilarating, bang-up Porsche Turbo of a novel that you absolutely will not put down.”

— Dennis Lehane

“Coben twists story lines into psychological thrill rides. The pages flip so fast, it’s a wonder you don’t develop paper cuts.”

— The Orlando Sentinel

“Truly surprising.”

— Entertainment Weekly

“The action unfolds with the intensity of TV’s 24… Nobody writes them better than Coben.”

— The Associated Press

“Lively, fast-moving entertainment, jam-packed with the bizarre plot twists that are his stock-in-trade.”

— The Washington Post

“Coben is one of the best authors around at writing page-turning suspense…. He has a knack for hooking readers right away and holding their interest as they zoom through his plots.”

— Chicago Sun-Times

“Most thriller authors only wish they could write like Coben. The guy has a way of grabbing you from the first paragraph and never turning you loose till the ashes have settled. Coben takes chances; he pulls no punches.”

— The Madison County Herald (MS)

“Harlan Coben thrillers are precision-tooled pageturners. If you’re looking for immediate immersion in a book that will not let go until it’s done, then Coben’s your man.”

— London Lite

Dedication

For Corky, the best mommy in the world

PROLOGUE

FRIDAY, AUGUST 30

Dr. Bruce Grey tried not to walk too fast. He slowed his pace, fighting off the temptation to sprint across the soiled floor of Kennedy Airport’s International Arrivals Building, past the customs officials, and out into the humid night air. His eyes shifted from side to side. Every few steps he would feign a soreness in his neck to give himself the opportunity to glance behind him and make sure he was not being followed.

Stop it! Bruce told himself. Stop lurking around like a poor man’s James Bond. You’re shaking like a malaria patient, for chrissake. You couldn’t look more conspicuous if you wore a sign.

He strolled past the luggage carousel, nodding politely at the little old lady who had sat next to him on the flight. The old woman had not shut her mouth during the entire trip, gabbing on about her family, her love of flying, her last trip overseas. She was sweet enough, just somebody’s grandmother, but Bruce still closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep in order to get a little peace and quiet. But, of course, sleep had not come to him. It would not come for some time yet.

But maybe she wasn’t just some sweet, little old lady, Brucie boy. Maybe she was following you

He dismissed the voice with a nervous shake of the head. This whole thing was turning his brain into sewer sludge. First, he was sure that the bearded man on the plane had been following him. Then it was the big guy with the slicked-back hair and Armani suit at the telephone booth. And don’t forget the pretty blonde by the terminal exit. She had been following him too.

Now it was a little old lady.

Get a grip on yourself, Brucie. Paranoia is not what we need right now. Clear thinking, old pal —

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