Trust Your Eyes

Product Description
Thomas Kilbride is a schizophrenic who spends his days and nights on a Web site called Whirl360. He travels the world without ever leaving his bedroom and memorizes the details of every street in every city. Then one day, he sees an image that looks like a woman being murdered in a window in New York City. Thomas’s brother, Ray, knows Thomas’s paranoia all too well. But if this time it’s real, both of them will have more to deal with than Thomas’s delusions.

Because someone somewhere is watching
them.…
Review
One of The Boston Globe's 10 Best Crime Books of the Year
 

One of Library Journal’s Best Books of the Year


“
TRUST YOUR EYES IS THE BEST BARCLAY SO FAR, A TALE HITCHCOCK WOULD HAVE LOVED.”—Stephen King
           

“One of the best thrillers of the year!”—#1 
New York Times Bestselling Author Lisa Gardner
 

“A wicked-good story.”—
The New York Times 
Book Review
 

“The Web equivalent of downloading pure entertainment straight into your brain.”—
USA Today
 

“Delivers shocks and surprises at every turn…Trust Your Eyes is one of the best thrillers of the year.” —Associated Press
 
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
PROLOGUE

It was just by chance he turned down Orchard Street and saw the window when he did. It easily could have been a week from now, or a month, even a year. But it turned out that this was going to be the day.
Sure, he would have wandered down here eventually. Sooner or later, when he got to a new city, he hit every street. He always started out intending to be methodical about it—follow one street from beginning to end, then head over a block and backtrack on a parallel street, like doing the aisles in a grocery store— but then he'd get to a cross street and something would catch his eye, and all good intentions would be abandoned.
That was how it turned out when he got to Manhattan, even though, of all the cities he'd visited, it was the one that most lent itself to being explored in an orderly fashion, at least those parts of the city north of Fourteenth Street, which was laid out in that perfect grid of streets and avenues. South of that, once you got into the West Village and Greenwich Village and SoHo and Chinatown, well, it was chaos down there, but that didn't bother him. It certainly wasn't any worse than in London or Rome or Paris or even Boston's North End, and he'd loved exploring those cities.
He'd turned south onto Orchard from Delancey, but his actual starting point for this stroll had been Spring and Mulberry. He'd gone south to Grand, west to Crosby, north back to Prince, east to Elizabeth, south to Kenmare, then east, continuing along Delancey, then, when he got to Orchard, decided to hang a right.
It was a beautiful street. Not in the sense that there were gardens and fountains and lush trees lining the sidewalk. Not beautiful like, say, Vaci Street in Budapest, or the Avenue des Champs-Elysees in Paris, or Lombard Street in San Francisco, but it was a street rich in texture and steeped in history. Narrow, one-way, running north. Old brick tenement buildings, few more than five stories, many only three or four, dating back a century and a half. A street that represented so many different times in the city's history. The buildings, with their skeletal fire escapes clinging to the fronts, reflected the Italianate style popular in the mid-to late nineteenth century, with arches above the windows, stone lintels projecting outward, ornate carved leaves in the trim work, but their ground floors housed everything from trendy cafés to designer dress shops. There were older, more conventional businesses, too. A uniform shop, a real estate agent, a hair salon, a gallery, a place that sold luggage. Many of the closed stores were shielded with drawn-down steel doors.
He meandered down the center of the street, not particularly worried about traffic. It wasn't a problem right now. He always found you got the sense of a place