Driving rebelliously homeward, beautiful, callous Jane Palmer told her ex-Navy flier husband, attractive, mild Alan, now clerking in a small bank, that she was leaving him. Fearing he would wreck the car, she reached for the ignition key, but turned off the headlights. This apparently was a signal; a bag holding a large sum of money was thrown into their car from another car which passed them. Jane decided they would keep the money, and she would stay with Alan. Alan, however, at first wanted to call the police; he weakened the next day and decided to hold the money for a time. He checked the bag at the Union Station, said a few words, which Jane could not hear, to the attendant, and put the check in his topcoat pocket, from which it dropped into the lining. They breakfasted with Alan's pleasant sister, Katherine, who noticed that a mysterious constraint had come between them. Later, Alan grew fearful gain; he insisted that the bag be sent to the police with a note, and Jane was filled with fury.

Beware! Dangerous secrets lie between the pages of this book. OK, I warned you. But if you think I'll give anything away, or tell you that this is the sequel to my first literary endeavor, The Name of This Book is Secret, you're wrong. I'm not going to remind you of how we last left our heroes, Cass and Max-Ernest, as they awaited intiation into the mysterious Terces Society, or the ongoing fight against the evil Dr. L and Ms. Mauvais. I certainly won't be telling you about how the kids stumble upon the Museum of Magic, where they finally meet the amazing Pietro! Oh, blast! I've done it again. Well, at least I didn't tell you about the missing Sound Prism, the nefarious Lord Pharaoh, or the mysterious creature born in a bottle over 500 years ago, the key to the biggest secret of all. I really can't help myself, now can I? Let's face it - if you're reading this, it's too late.

A brilliant debut novel about the power the dead exert on the living, the elusive nature of redemption, and the terrible accuracy with which we construct our own punishments.

Written within a cloistered environment to protect sources that have yet to be identified, TOO LATE TO SAY GOODBYE is a chilling portrait of two beautiful, successful women whose murders were made to look like suicides. Jenn Corbin appeared to have it all: two little boys, a posh home in the suburbs of Atlanta, and a husband - Dr Bart Corbin, a successful dentist - who was handsome and brilliant. Then, in December 2004, Jenn was found dead with a bullet in her head, apparently by suicide. Only later would detectives learn that another woman in Dr Corbin's past had been found years earlier with nearly the exact same wound to the head, also ruled a suicide. In TOO LATE TO SAY GOODBYE, Ann Rule - working in cooperation with victims' families, police investigators, and sources from Georgia to Australia - unravels the now-sensational deaths. What emerges is an incredible tale of jealous rage; of stunning evidence that runs from the steamy to the macabre; and of a fateful, mind-boggling coincidence that appears to have motivated the killings. The definitive unravelling of one of the strangest murder investigations of our time, this is the greatest achievement of a truly great writing career.