By Steve Hamilton
"I used to be the Miracle Boy, as soon as upon a time. in a while, the Milford Mute. The Golden Boy. The younger Ghost. the child. The Boxman. The Lock Artist. That used to be all me.
But you could name me Mike."
Marked by way of tragedy, traumatized on the age of 8, Michael, now eighteen, isn't any traditional younger guy. in addition to now not uttering a unmarried notice in ten years, he discovers the single factor he can in some way do higher than somebody else. no matter if it is a locked door and not using a key, a padlock with out mix, or perhaps an eight-hundred pound secure ... he can open all of them.
It's an unforgivable expertise. A expertise that might make younger Michael a sizzling commodity with the inaccurate humans and, even if he likes it or now not, push him ever as regards to a lifetime of crime. until eventually he ultimately sees his probability to flee, and with one determined gamble dangers every little thing again domestic to the one individual he ever enjoyed, and to unencumber the key that has saved him silent for therefore long.
Steve Hamilton steps clear of his Edgar Award-winning Alex McKnight sequence to introduce a distinct new personality, not like someone you have ever obvious on this planet of crime fiction.
The Lock Artist is the winner of the 2011 Edgar Award for top Novel.
Quick preview of The Lock Artist: A Novel PDF
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Additional resources for The Lock Artist: A Novel
Basic three-cam lock, correct? What do you do with it? ” I pulled the shackle out and commenced turning the dial, feeling for the sticking issues. the standard regimen, discovering the final quantity after which utilizing the quantity households to slim down the prospective mixtures. The Ghost watched me as I did this. final quantity 25, so begin with 1, super-set the second one numbers and begin cranking them out. “What the hell are you doing? ” I seemed up at him. What do you think that I’m doing? “You’re now not heavily going to cheat the numbers, are you? you're thinking that you may get away with that on an exceptional lock? They don’t use these styles like they do on reasonable items of shit, for something. for an additional factor . . . I suggest, God rattling, how a lot of an novice are you, besides? Don’t you might have any feel of contact in any respect? ” He didn’t look forward to me to answer that. no longer that I had any solution. He grabbed the lock from my hand and began to spin the dial. “You need to think it, ok? There’s no wrong way to do that. I suggest, shit, when you can’t do this on a fucking padlock . . . ” He took one fast look on the dial. Then he positioned the lock close to his left ear for a second and stored turning. He closed his eyes. “Either you could suppose it otherwise you can’t. ok? It’s that straightforward. ” He opened his eyes and began spinning the dial within the other way. “I can do that in my sleep, hotshot. I suggest, actually. i will be able to do that whereas I’m using a motor vehicle. whereas I’m speaking at the mobile. whereas I’m having intercourse. ” He grew to become the dial a bit extra, stopped, replaced path yet one more time. “Do you recognize what I’m asserting? i will do that whereas I’m no longer even pondering it one little bit. ” He pulled the shackle out and tossed the now open lock again to me. “Sit down right here and paintings on it. in the event you can open it like a true boxman, enable me recognize. meanwhile, I’m going to lunch. ” Boxman. That used to be the 1st time I heard the time period. It rang in my ears as he left me there by myself in that green-shaded again lot, in the course of these nice iron safes. a true boxman. The solar was once happening whilst i ultimately left that position. I had the lock in my pocket. My first piece of homework used to be to maintain spinning the dials until eventually i may suppose the cams lining up the appropriate approach. until eventually i may open the damned factor in basic terms through contact, with no dishonest. I must have long gone directly domestic to perform, yet as an alternative I rode again to the Marshes’ residence. each window was once darkish whilst I pulled into the driveway, yet i'll pay attention song coming from someplace inside of. I opened front door and peeked within. The stereo used to be blasting “Wouldn’t it's great” through the seashore Boys. Mr. Marsh’s favourite band, I remembered. It used to be loud sufficient for a celebration, however the lighting have been all off, and that i didn’t see anyone. I went into the lounge. the massive aquarium solid an eerie glow. Then I observed a skinny line of sunshine lower than the door to Mr. Marsh’s place of work. I went upstairs first. I opened Amelia’s door and flipped at the mild. She nonetheless wasn’t there. I became her mild off and left. I went downstairs. there have been a number of seconds of silence because the track ended.