Speaking in Tongues

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Tate Collier is the silver-tongued prosecutor whose successful career has finally caught up with him. When their daughter disappears, Collier and his ex-wife desperately want to believe it's teenage rebellion. But insidious signs point to foul play. Indeed, the past has come back to haunt Collier—in the form of Aaron Matthews, a brilliant, Harvard-educated psychiatrist bent on vengeance of Biblical proportions. Matthews, a gifted orator himself, soon drops words for weaponry, and in his murderous rage will go to ...
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Speaking in Tongues

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Tate Collier is the silver-tongued prosecutor whose successful career has finally caught up with him. When their daughter disappears, Collier and his ex-wife desperately want to believe it's teenage rebellion. But insidious signs point to foul play. Indeed, the past has come back to haunt Collier—in the form of Aaron Matthews, a brilliant, Harvard-educated psychiatrist bent on vengeance of Biblical proportions. Matthews, a gifted orator himself, soon drops words for weaponry, and in his murderous rage will go to any length to ruin Collier's life.

Featuring an urgent race against the clock and the trademark Deaver plot twists, Speaking in Tongues delivers the suspense punch that has made this author a favorite and legitimate bestseller.

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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
Our Review
Speak of the Devil
These days, Jeffery Deaver is best known for the popular series of suspense novels (The Bone Collector, The Coffin Dancer, The Empty Chair) featuring quadriplegic forensic genius Lincoln Rhyme. But Deaver has also written a number of excellent stand-alone novels during the course of his career, including Praying for Sleep and -- my own personal favorite -- A Maiden's Grave. His latest, Speaking in Tongues, is another effective independent novel that offers an unpredictable, furiously paced story of murder, madness, and the limitless power of language.

Two figures, each blessed with uncommon powers of persuasion, dominate the narrative. The first is Tate Collier, a lawyer and gentleman farmer whose oratorical abilities once made him the most successful prosecuting attorney in Fairfax County, Virginia. The second is Aaron Matthews, a powerfully seductive former therapist whose tragic past -- and long-standing history of mental instability -- lead him to devise a complex scenario whose ultimate goal is the destruction of Tate Collier.

By the time the novel opens, Tate's once charmed life has drifted sharply off center. He is divorced, no longer practices criminal law, and has grown increasingly estranged from his troubled teenage daughter, Megan McCall, who has developed more than her share of emotional and psychological problems. The story begins when Aaron, posing as a "substitute" therapist, kidnaps Megan and hides her away in the crumbling, gothic ruins of a deserted mental institution in the Blue Ridge mountains. In the aftermath of that kidnapping, Tate, together with his former wife, embarks on a desperate quest to locate his daughter and to understand the origins of an apparently pointless crime.

Speaking in Tongues contains an oddly engaging combination of elements. On the surface, it is an unabashed thriller filled with unexpected plot reversals and narrative sleight-of-hand. Beneath that surface, it is an extended meditation on the art of manipulation and on language as the most potent -- and versatile -- of weapons.

In essence, Speaking in Tongues recounts a series of elaborate seductions, beginning with Megan's kidnapping and ending with a fatal confrontation between two master manipulators with radically different agendas. It isn't, by any means, a perfect novel -- the prose occasionally seems hasty, and a number of incidents stretch credibility past the breaking point -- but it's original, provocative, and a great deal of fun. At the very least, it should keep Deaver's many readers happy until the next Lincoln Rhyme adventure comes along.

--Bill Sheehan

Bill Sheehan reviews horror, suspense, and science fiction for Cemetery Dance, The New York Review of Science Fiction, and other publications. His book-length critical study of the fiction of Peter Straub, At the Foot of the Story Tree, has been published by Subterranean Press (www.subterraneanpress.com).

From The Critics
"Aren't words the most astonishing thing?" asks Dr. Aaron Matthews as he stands over a shallow grave and prepares to kill a man. Words are the weapons of choice in this gripping battle between Matthews, a homicidal psychiatrist bent on revenge, and Tate Collier, the prosecutor whose gift of oration has propelled him to the top of his profession. Throughout his latest thriller, Deaver keeps the action fast and the violence brutal. As revenge against Collier, his long-time adversary, Matthews arranges the kidnapping of Collier's teen-age daughter. And so the chase is on: Collier teams with his ex-wife to search for their daughter; Matthews stays one step ahead by manipulating key witnesses and using their weaknesses against them. As Matthews pushes words to their limit, Collier learns an important lesson: When words and logic fail us, we are left with an even more powerful motivator, emotion. Throughout, Matthews' cruelty is convincing, yet his skills at manipulation stretch credulity—as does Collier's uncanny knack for intuiting his rival's intentions. Deaver's latest requires a substantial suspension of disbelief, but nevertheless provides a suspenseful good time.
—Jennifer Braunschweiger

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Before he launched his praised and popular series about quadriplegic criminologist Lincoln Rhyme (The Empty Chair, etc.), Deaver made his reputation with tricky, stylish thrillers such as Praying for Sleep and Manhattan Is My Beat. This slick novel is a throwback to those books and Deaver's first wholly outside the Rhyme universe since A Maiden's Grave. The basic plot is simple. An insane but intensely charismatic psychiatrist, Aaron Matthews, for reasons revealed only near book's end, kidnaps his patient, alienated Megan McCall, the young adult daughter of former Virginia prosecutor Tate Collier, and imprisons her in an abandoned mental institution. Tate and his estranged wife go looking for Megan and enlist the cops in their search. Much violence ensues. Deaver's characters are workable but not deep, though there's some psychological probing along the fault lines dividing Tate, his wife and their daughter. The novel's primary appeal arises from its thrills, which are plentiful. Like James Patterson, Deaver writes dialogue-driven prose, in short, strong sentences and paragraphs that demand little from the reader while seizing attention to the max. Tate and his wife are forgettable heroes, but Deaver tells some of the story from feisty Megan's gripping POV, as she fights back against her captor--one dandy villain who delights in conning others through disguise and misdirection, allowing for plenty of plot curves. This isn't Deaver's most accomplished novel but it's high-energy entertainment. (Dec. 11) Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
Deaver's fast-paced suspense novel provides a thrill-a-minute audio experience. The action begins as semiretired attorney and gentleman farmer Tate Collier is wrenched from his orderly existence when his teenage daughter, Megan, disappears. Although both Tate and his ex-wife Bett find handwritten notes from Megan that imply she has run away, the two soon sense that something far more sinister is afoot. They begin to search in earnest for their daughter and eventually deduce that she is in the hands of Aaron Matthews, a brilliant but twisted Harvard-educated psychologist who has manufactured this elaborate kidnapping scheme as a means to gain revenge against Tate. Dennis Boutsikaris's deliberate, well-paced performance gives credibility to the often larger-than-life events and characters in this thriller. Deaver's many fans will not be disappointed; enthusiastically recommended for all popular fiction collections. Beth Farrell, Portage Cty. Dist. Lib., OH Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
Deaver takes a break from his Lincoln Rhyme blockbusters (The Empty Chair, p. 254) for a kidnapping story that packs just as much suspense but a lot fewer moving parts. For a young woman of 17, Megan McCall's had a surprisingly troubled life: her parents' divorce when she was two, her father's remoteness, her mother's string of lovers, her own sexual acting-out, and now a dangerous stunt that's won her a round of court-ordered therapy. But all these traumas are chump change compared to the trouble she falls headlong into when"Dr. Bill Peters," the handsome, empathetic charmer substituting for her usual therapist, turns out to be Dr. Aaron Matthews, a sociopathic psychiatrist who tricks Megan into writing defiant notes to her estranged parents, drugs her, dumps her into the trunk of her car, and drives off on the first leg of an elaborate abduction plan. As usual in Deaver's thrillers, the good guys have plenty of resources—the bulldog tenacity of Megan's forbidden boyfriend Joshua LeFevre, the immediate suspicion of her hotshot lawyer father Tate Collier that something's not quite right about her running away, Tate's friendship with a hardworking Fairfax County detective, the witnesses who know Matthews was stalking Megan—but Matthews has a fiendish bag of tricks to neutralize them all. Keeping two steps ahead of his pursuers, he locks Megan in a cell in an abandoned mental hospital, where she tries to elude her abductor's retarded son Peter as she's wondering why somebody would have done this to her. Meantime, back in the real world, Peter's father toys with his pitifully overmatched adversaries on his trail, leaving themnotonly routed but ruined or dead, till thefinal showdown reveals the inevitable one secret too many. Scorchingly one-dimensional: a ruthlessly efficient formula thriller with nary an ounce of thought on its bones.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780671024109
  • Publisher: Pocket Books
  • Publication date: 10/1/2002
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 384
  • Product dimensions: 6.80 (w) x 4.24 (h) x 1.01 (d)

Meet the Author

Jeffery  Deaver

Jeffery Deaver is the author of two collections of short stories and twenty-eight previous suspense novels. His most recent #1 international bestseller is Carte Blanche, the newest James Bond novel that brought Ian Fleming’s Agent 007 firmly into the modern age. Deaver is best known for his Kathryn Dance and Lincoln Rhyme thrillers, most notably The Bone Collector, which was made into a feature starring Denzel Washington and Angelina Jolie. Deaver has been nominated for seven Edgar Awards by the Mystery Writers of America, an Anthony Award, and a Gumshoe Award. He was recently short-listed for the ITV3 Crime Thriller Award for Best International Author. His books are sold in 150 countries and translated into twenty-five languages. He lives in North Carolina.

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    1. Also Known As:
      William Jefferies, Jeffery Wilds Deaver
    2. Hometown:
      Washington, D.C.
    1. Date of Birth:
      May 6, 1950
    2. Place of Birth:
      Chicago, Illinois
    1. Education:
      B.A., University of Missouri; Juris Doctor, cum laude, Fordham University School of Law
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

Chapter Two Only God could cure him. And God wasn't so inclined.

Not that it mattered, for Lincoln Rhyme was a man of science rather than theology and so he'd traveled not to Lourdes or Turin or to some Baptist tent outfitted with a manic faith healer but here, to this hospital in North Carolina, in hopes of becoming if not a whole man at least less of a partial one.

Rhyme now steered his motorized Storm Arrow wheelchair, red as a Corvette, off the ramp of the van in which he, his aide and Amelia Sachs had just driven five hundred miles — from Manhattan. His perfect lips around the controller straw, he turned the chair expertly and accelerated up the sidewalk toward the front door of the Neurologic Research Institute at the Medical Center of the University of North Carolina in Avery.

Thom retracted the ramp of the glossy black Chrysler Grand Rollx, a wheelchair-accessible van.

"Put it in a handicapped space," Rhyme called. He gave a chuckle.

Amelia Sachs lifted an eyebrow to Thom, who said, "Good mood. Take advantage. It won't last."

"I heard that," Rhyme shouted.

The aide drove off and Sachs caught up with Rhyme. She was on her cell phone, on hold with a local car rental company. Thom would be spending much of the next week in Rhyme's hospital room and Sachs wanted the freedom to keep her own hours, maybe do some exploring in the region. Besides, she was a sports-car person, not a van person, and on principle shunned vehicles whose top speed was two digits.

Sachs had been on hold for five minutes and finally she hung up in frustration. "I wouldn't mind waiting but the Muzak is terrible. I'll try later." She looked ather watch. "Only ten-thirty. But this heat is too much. I mean, way too much." Manhattan is not necessarily the most temperate of locales in August but it's much farther north than the Tar Heel State, and when they'd left the city yesterday, southbound via the Holland Tunnel, the temperature was in the low seventies and the air was dry as salt.

Rhyme wasn't paying any attention to the heat. His mind was solely on his mission here. Ahead of them the automated door swung open obediently (this would be, he assumed, the Tiffany's of handicapped-accessible facilities) and they moved into the cool corridor. While Sachs asked directions Rhyme looked around the main floor. He noticed a half-dozen unoccupied wheelchairs clustered together, dusty. He wondered what had become of the occupants. Maybe the treatment here had been so successful that they'd discarded the chairs and graduated to walkers and crutches. Maybe some had grown worse and were confined to beds or motorized chairs.

Maybe some had died.

"This way," Sachs said, nodding up the hall. Thom joined them at the elevator (double-wide door, handrails, buttons three feet off the floor) and a few minutes later they found the suite they sought. Rhyme wheeled up to the door, noticed the hands-free intercom. He said a boisterous "Open, sesame" and the door swung wide.

"We get that a lot," drawled the pert secretary when they'd entered. "You must be Mr. Rhyme. I'll tell the doctor you're here."

Dr. Cheryl Weaver was a trim, stylish woman in her mid-forties. Rhyme noticed immediately that her eyes were quick and her hands, as befitted a surgeon, seemed strong. Her nails were polish-free and short. She rose from her desk, smiled and shook Sachs's and Thom's hands, nodded to her patient. "Lincoln."

"Doctor." Rhyme's eyes took in the titles of the many books on her shelves. Then the myriad certificates and diplomas — all from good schools and renowned institutions, though her credentials were no surprise to him. Months of research had convinced Rhyme that the University Medical Center in Avery was one of the best hospitals in the world. Its oncology and immunology departments were among the busiest in the country and Dr. Weaver's neuro institute set the standard for spinal cord injury research and treatment.

"It's good to meet you at last," the doctor said. Under her hand was a three-inch-thick manila folder. Rhyme's own, the criminalist assumed. (Wondering what the keeper of the file had entered under the prognosis heading: "Encouraging"? "Poor"? "Hopeless"?) "Lincoln, you and I've had some conversations on the phone. But I want to go through the preliminaries again. For both our sakes."

Rhyme nodded curtly. He was prepared to tolerate some formality though he had little patience for ass-covering. Which is what this was starting to sound like.

"You've read the literature about the Institute. And you know we're starting some trials of a new spinal cord regeneration and reconstruction technique. But I have to stress again that this is experimental."

"I understand that."

"Most of the quads I've treated know more neurology than a general practitioner. And I'll bet you're no exception."

"Know something about science," Rhyme said dismissively. "Know something about medicine." And he offered her an example of his trademark shrug, a gesture Dr. Weaver seemed to notice and file away.

She continued, "Well, forgive me if I repeat what you already know but it's important for you to understand what this technique can do and what it can't do."

"Please," Rhyme said. "Go on."

"Our approach at the Institute here is an all-out assault on the site of the injury. We use traditional decompression surgery to reconstruct the bony structure of the vertebrae themselves and to protect the site where your injury occurred. Then we graft two things into the site of the injury: One is some of the patient's own peripheral nervous system tissue. And the other substance we graft is some embryonic central nervous system cells, which — "

"Ah, the shark," Rhyme said.

"That's right. Blue shark, yes."

"Lincoln was telling us that," Sachs said. "Why shark?"

"Immunologic reasons, compatibility with humans. Also," the doctor added, laughing, "it's a damn big fish so we can get a lot of embryo material from one."

"Why embryo?" Sachs asked.

"It's the adult central nervous system that doesn't naturally regenerate," Rhyme grumbled, impatient with the interruption. "Obviously, a baby's nervous system has to grow."

"Exactly. Then, in addition to the decompression surgery and micrografting, we do one more thing — which is what we're so excited about: We've developed some new drugs that we think might have a significant effect on improving regeneration."

Sachs asked, "Are there risks?"

Rhyme glanced at her, hoping to catch her eye. He knew the risks. He'd made his decision. He didn't want her interrogating his doctor. But Sachs's attention was wholly on Dr. Weaver. Rhyme recognized her expression; it was how she examined a crime scene photo.

"Of course there are risks. The drugs themselves aren't particularly dangerous. But any C4 quad is going to have lung impairment. You're off a ventilator but with the anesthetic there's a chance of respiratory failure. Then the stress of the procedure could lead to autonomic dysreflexia and resulting severe blood pressure elevation — I'm sure you're familiar with that — which in turn could lead to a stroke or a cerebral event. There's also a risk of surgical trauma to the site of your initial injury — you don't have any cysts now and no shunts but the operation and resulting fluid buildup could increase that pressure and cause additional damage."

"Meaning he could get worse," Sachs said.

Dr. Weaver nodded and looked down at the file, apparently to refresh her memory, though she didn't open the folder. She looked up. "You have movement of one lumbrical — the ring finger of your left hand — and good shoulder and neck muscle control. You could lose some or all of that. And lose your ability to breathe spontaneously."

Sachs remained perfectly still. "I see," she said finally, the words coming out as a taut sigh.

The doctor's eyes were locked on Rhyme's. "And you have to weigh these risks in light of what you hope to gain — you aren't going to be able to walk again, if that's what you were hoping for. Procedures of this sort have had some limited success with spinal cord injuries at the lumbar and thoracic level — much lower and much less severe than your injury. It's had only marginal success with cervical injuries and none at all with a C4-level trauma."

"I'm a gambling man," he said quickly. Sachs gave him a troubled glance. Because she'd know that Lincoln Rhyme wasn't a gambling man at all. He was a scientist who lived his life according to quantifiable, documented principles. He added simply, "I want the surgery."

Dr. Weaver nodded and seemed neither pleased nor displeased about his decision. "You'll need to have several tests that should take several hours. The procedure's scheduled for the day after tomorrow. I have about a thousand forms and questionnaires for you. I'll be right back with the paperwork."

Sachs rose and followed the doctor out of the room. Rhyme heard her asking, "Doctor, I have a..." The door clicked shut.

"Conspiracy," Rhyme muttered to Thom. "Mutiny in the ranks."

"She's worried about you."

"Worried? That woman drives a hundred fifty miles an hour and plays gunslinger in the South Bronx. I'm getting baby fish cells injected into me."

"You know what I'm saying."

Rhyme tossed his head impatiently. His eyes strayed to a corner of Dr. Weaver's office, where a spinal cord — presumably real — rested on a metal stand. It seemed far too fragile to support the complicated human life that had once hung upon it.

The door opened. Sachs stepped into the office. Someone entered behind her but it wasn't Dr. Weaver. The man was tall, trim except for a slight paunch, and wearing a county sheriff's tan uniform. Unsmiling, Sachs said, "You've got a visitor."

Seeing Rhyme, the man took off his Smokey the Bear hat and nodded. His eyes darted not to Rhyme's body, as did most people's upon meeting him, but went immediately to the spine on the stand behind the doctor's desk. Back to the criminalist. "Mr. Rhyme. I'm Jim Bell. Roland Bell's cousin? He told me you were going to be in town and I drove over from Tanner's Corner."

Roland was on the NYPD and had worked with Rhyme on several cases. He was currently a partner of Lon Sellitto, a detective Rhyme had known for years. Roland had given Rhyme the names of some of his relatives to call when he was down in North Carolina for the operation in case he wanted some visitors. Jim Bell was one of them, Rhyme recalled. Looking past the sheriff toward the doorway through which his angel of mercy, Dr. Weaver, had yet to return, the criminalist said absently, "Nice to meet you."

Bell gave a grim smile. He said, "Matter of fact, sir, I don't know you're going to be feeling that way for too long."

Copyright © 2000 by Jeffery Deaver

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First Chapter

Chapter 2

"They weren't real bears."


"Bears in a story."

"What's so hard about this?" Dr. Peters asked.

"I don't know."

Crazy Megan gives her a good burst of sarcasm. Oh, good job, loser. You've blown it now. You had to tell him about the book.

But the other side of her was thinking: Seven weeks of bullshit with Dr. Shiny Head Hanson and she hadn't felt a thing but bored. Ten minutes with Dr. Peters and she was hooked up to an electric current.

Crazy Megan says, It's too hard. It hurts too much.

But Bill couldn't hear C.M., of course.

"Go on," he encouraged.

And she went on.

"I was about six, okay? I was spending the weekend with Tate. He lives in this big house and nobody's around for miles. It's in the middle of his cornfields and it's all quiet and really, really spooky. I was feeling weird, all scared. I asked him to read me a story but he said he didn't have any children's books. I was really hurt. I started to cry and asked why didn't he have any. He got all freaked and went out to the old barn — where he told me I wasn't ever supposed to go — and he came back with this book. It was called The Whispering Bears. Only it turned out it wasn't really a kid's story at all. I found out later it was a book of folk stories from Europe."

"Do you remember it?"


"Tell me."

"It's stupid."

"No," Peters said, leaning forward again. "I'll bet it's anything but stupid. Tell me."

"There was a town by the edge of the woods. And everybody who lived there was happy, you know, like in all fairy stories before the bad shit happens. People walking down the street, singing, going to market, having dinner with their families. Then one day these two big bears walked out of the woods and stood at the edge of town with their heads down and it sounded like they were whispering to each other.

"At first nobody paid any attention then little by little the people stopped what they were doing and tried to hear what the bears were saying. But nobody could. That night the bears went back into the forest. And the townspeople stood around and one woman said she knew what they were whispering about — they were making fun of the people in the village. And then everybody started noticing how everybody else walked funny or talked funny or looked stupid and they all ended up laughing at each other, and everybody got mad and there were all kinds of fights in town.

"Okay, then the next day the bears came out of the forest again and started whispering, blah, blah, blah, you get the picture. Then that night they went back into the woods. And this time some old man said he knew what they were talking about. They were gossiping about the people in town. And so everybody figured that everybody else knew all their secrets and so they went home and closed all their windows and doors and they were afraid to go out in public.

"Then — the third day — the bears came out again. And it was the same thing, only this time the duke or mayor or somebody said, 'I know what they're saying! They're making plans to attack the village.' And they went to get torches to scare away the bears but they accidentally set a house on fire and the fire spread and the whole town burned down."

Megan felt a shiver. Her eyes slipped to the top of the desk and she couldn't look up at Dr. Peters. She continued, "Tate only read it to me once but I still remember the last line. It was, 'And do you know what the bears were really whispering about? Why, nothing at all. Don't you know? Bears can't talk.'"

This is so bogus, Crazy Megan scoffs. What's he going to think about you now?

But the doctor calmly asked, "And the story was upsetting?"



"I don't know. Maybe 'cause everybody's lives got ruined for no


"But there was a reason for it."

Megan shrugged.

He continued, "The town was destroyed because people projected their own pettiness and jealousy and aggression on some innocent creatures. That's the moral of the story. How people destroy themselves."

"I guess. But I was just thinking it wasn't much of a kid's story. I guess I wanted The Lion King or 101 Dalmatians." She smiled. But Peters didn't. He looked at her closely.

"What happened after your father finished it?"

Why did he ask that? she wondered, her palms sweating. Why?

Megan looked away and shrugged again. "That's all. Bett came and picked me up and I went home."

"This is hard, isn't it, Megan?"

Get a clue.

Quiet! Megan snapped to C.M.

She looked at Dr. Peters. "Yeah, I guess."

"Would it be easier to write down your feelings? A lot of my patients do that. There's some paper."

She took the sheets that he nodded toward and rested them on a booklet he pushed forward for her to write on. Reluctantly Megan picked up a pen.

She stared at the paper. "I don't know what to say."

"Say what you feel."

"I don't know how I feel."

"Yes, you do." He leaned close. "I think you're just afraid to admit it."

"Well — "

"Say whatever comes into your mind. Anything. Say something to your mother first. Write a letter to her. Go!"

Another wave of that scalding heat.

Spotlight on Crazy Megan...

He whispered, "Go deep."

"I can't think!"

"Pick one thing. Why are you so angry with her?"

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

She clenched her fist. "Because..."


"I don't know. Because she's...She goes out with these young men. It's like she thinks she can cast spells on them."

"So what?" he challenged her. "She can date who she wants. She's single. What's really pissing you off?"

"I don't know!"

"Yes, you do!" he shot back.

"Well, she's just a businesswoman and she's engaged to this dweeb. She's not a fairy princess at all like she'd like to be. She's not a cover girl."

"But she wears an exotic image? Why does she do that?"

"I guess to make herself happy. She wants to be pretty and young forever. She thinks this asshole Brad's going to make her happy. But he isn't."

"She's greedy? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes!" Megan cried. "That's it! She doesn't care about me. The night on the water tower? She was at Brad's and she was supposed to call me. But she didn't."

"Who? Her fiancé's?"

"Yeah. She went up there, to Baltimore, and she never called. They were fucking, I'll bet, and she forgot about me. It was just like when I was little. She'd leave me alone all the time."

"By yourself?"

"No, with sitters. My uncle mostly."

"Which uncle?"

"My aunt Susan's husband. My mom's twin sister. She's been real sick most of her life, I told you. Heart problems. And Bett spent all this time with her in the hospital when I was young. Uncle Harris'd baby-sit me. He was real nice, but — "

"But you missed your mother?"

"I wanted her to be with me. She said it was only for a little while because Aunt Susan was real sick. She said she and Susan were totally close. Nobody was closer to her than her sister."

He shook his head, seemed horrified. "She said that to you? Her own daughter?"

Megan nodded.

"You should have been the person closest to her in the world."

These words gripped her by the throat. She wiped more tears and struggled for breath. Finally she continued, "Aunt Susan'd do anything to have kids but she couldn't. Because of her heart. And here Mom got pregnant with me and Susan felt real bad about that. So Mom spent a lot of time with her."

"There's no excuse for neglecting children. None. Absolutely none."

Megan snagged a Kleenex and wiped her face.

"And you didn't let yourself be angry? Why not?"

"Because my mother was doing something good. My aunt's a nice lady. She always calls and asks about me and wants me to come visit her. Only I don't 'cause..."

"Because you're angry with her. She took your mother away from you."

A chill. "Yeah, I guess she did."

"Come on, Megan. What else? Why the guilt?"

"Because my aunt needed my mom more back then. When I was little. See — "

Crazy Megan interrupts. Oh, you can't tell him that!

Yes, I can. I can tell him anything.

"See, Uncle Harris killed himself."

"He did?"

"I felt so bad for my aunt."

"Forget it!" he snapped.

Megan blinked.

"You're Bett's daughter. You should have been the center of her universe. What she did was inexcusable. Say it. Say it!"


"Say it!"

"It was inexcusable!"

"Good. Now write it to her. Every bit of the anger you feel. Get it out."

The pen rolled from Megan's lap onto the floor. She bent down and picked it up. It weighed a hundred pounds. The tears ran from her nose and eyes and dripped on the paper.

"Tell her," the doctor said. "Tell her that she's greedy. That she turned her back on her daughter and took care of her sister instead."

"But," Megan managed to say, "that's greedy of me."

"Of course it's greedy. You were a child, you're supposed to be greedy. Parents are there to fill your needs. That's the whole point of parents. Tell her what you feel."

Her head swam — from the electricity in the black eyes boring into hers, from her desire, her fear.

From her anger...

In ten seconds, it seemed, she'd filled the entire sheet. She dropped the paper on the floor. It floated like a pale leaf. The doctor ignored it.

"Now. Your father."

Megan froze, shaking her head. She looked desperately at the wall clock. "Next time. Please."

"No. Now. What are you mad about?"

Her stomach muscles were hard as a board. "Well, I'm mad 'cause why doesn't he want to see me? He didn't even fight the custody agreement. I see him every two or three months."

"Tell him."

"I — "

"Tell him!"

She wrote. She poured her fury on to the page. When the sheet was half full her pen braked to a halt.

"What else is it, Megan? What aren't you telling me?"


"Oh, what do I hear?" he said. "The passion's slipping. Something's wrong. You're holding back." Dr. Peters frowned. "Whispering bears. Something about that story's important. What?"

"I don't know."

"Go into the place where it hurts the most. We go deep, remember. That's how I operate. I'm Super Shrink."

Crazy Megan can't take it anymore. She just wants to curl up into a little crazy ball and disappear.

The doctor moved closer, pulling his chair beside her. Their knees touched. "Come on. What is it?"

"No. I don't know what it is..."

"You want to tell me. You need to tell me." He dropped to his knees, gripped her by the shoulders. "Touch the most painful part. Touch it! Your father's read you the story. He comes to the last line. 'Bears can't talk.' He puts the book away. Then what happens?"

She sat forward, shivering, and stared at the floor. "I go upstairs to pack."

"Your mother's coming to pick you up?"

Eyes squinting closed painfully. "She's here. I hear the car in the driveway."

"Okay. Bett walks inside. You're upstairs and your parents are downstairs. They're talking?"

"Yeah. They're saying things I can't hear at first then I get closer. I sneak down to the landing."

"You can hear them?"


"What do they say?"

"I don't know. Stuff."

"What do they say?" The doctor's voice filled the room. "Tell me!"

"They were talking about a funeral."

"Funeral? Whose?"

"I don't know. But there was something bad about it. Something really bad."

"There's something else, isn't there, Megan? They say something else."

"No!" she said desperately. "Just the funeral."

"Megan, tell me."


"Go on. Touch the place it hurts."

"Tate said..." Megan felt faint. She struggled to control the tears. "He called me...They were talking about me. And my daddy said..." She took deep gulps of air, which turned to fire in her lungs and throat. The doctor blinked in surprise as she screamed, "My daddy shouted, 'It would all've been different without her, without that damn inconve-

nient child up there. She ruined everything!'"

Megan lowered her head to her knees and wept. The doctor put his arm around her shoulders. She felt his hand stroke her head.

"And how did you feel when you heard him say that?" He brushed away the stream of her tears.

"I don't know...I cried."

"Did you want to run away?"

"I guess I did."

"You wanted to show him, didn't you? If that's what he thinks of me I'll pay him back. I'll leave. That's what you thought, isn't it?"

Another nod.

"You wanted to go someplace where people weren't greedy, where people loved you, where people had children's books for you, where they read and talked to you."

She sobbed into a wad of Kleenex.

"Tell him, Megan. Write it down. Get it out so you can look at it."

She wrote until the tears grew so bad she couldn't see the page. Then she collapsed against the doctor's chest, sobbing.

"Good, Megan," he announced. "Very good."

She gripped him tighter than she'd ever gripped a lover, pressing her head against his neck. For a moment neither of them moved. She was frozen here, embracing him fiercely, desperately. He stiffened and for a moment she believed that he was feeling the same sorrow she was. Megan started to back away so that she could see his kind face and his black eyes but he continued to hold her tightly, so hard that a sudden pain swept through her arm.

A surge of alarming warmth spread through her body. It was almost arousing.

Then they separated. Her smile faded as she saw in his face an odd look.

Jesus, what's going on?

His eyes were cold, his smile was cruel. He was suddenly a different person.

"What?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

He said nothing.

She started to repeat herself but the words wouldn't come. Her tongue had grown heavy in her swollen mouth. It fell against her dry teeth. Her vision was crinkling. She tried once again to say something but couldn't.

She watched him stand and open a canvas bag that was resting on the floor behind his desk. He put away a hypodermic syringe. He was pulling on latex gloves.

"What're you?..." she began, then noticed on her arm, where the pain radiated, a small dot of blood.

"No!" She tried to ask him what he was doing but the words vanished in comic mumbling. She tried to scream.

A whisper.

He walked to her and crouched, cradling her head, which sagged toward the couch.

Crazy Megan is beyond crazy. She loves him, she's terrified of him, she wants to kill him.

"Go to sleep," he said in a voice kinder than her father's ever sounded. "Go to sleep."

Finally, from the drug, or from the fear, the room went black and she slumped into his arms.

Copyright © 2000 by Jeffery Deaver

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Customer Reviews

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( 17 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 17 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted October 1, 2005

    great read!!

    There are exciting twists and turns and I both loved and loathed the villian. I didn't necessarily love the ending, I wish there was more but it's great none the less. I read it everytime I managed to at school and at home, I'll be looking into more of Jeffrey's books.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 23, 2008

    Hmmm what on earth?

    I am a huge fan of Deaver, I have read all his work so far and this was on of my least favorite. Its just to far fetched. I understand you need to have an open mind and just let things happen but this was all to perfect - everything fell into perfect place making for a great story but it left me thinking....... yeah right! As always the story was great, good plot and pretty twisted fella was this Matthews but seriously I was pretty bored once I was half way through it. Figured what was coming next and how he took care of the witnesses was a bit to much for me. Too cute, to easy, to boring...... I think Deaver is great, usually he makes me think about the book for a few days after I am done but this one will not be. If you can find it in a bargain bin for a couple bucks and you have nothing to do its a great time filler but other than that I say skip it. I am shocked on B&N the reviews are so good, other site I use they are far less favorable.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 20, 2007

    Gruesome & gory

    This was my first J. Deaver book and I was so looking forward to it. He'd been highly recommended by several people. Although I thought it was well written and suspenseful, I found it too gruesome. Matthews' violence was too horrific for me. I think it could give some folks nightmares. Admittedly, I did finish it because I wanted to know the ending (I thought).

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 5, 2006

    Silver Tongued Devils

    Speaking in Tongues by Jeffery Deaver is, in my opion, a fantastic book. As expected from Mr. Deaver, it has twist and turns but not so many that the reader/listner becomes confused. The story line is great, the pace is just right, and the narrator, Dennis Boutsikaris, is, as always, fantastic. This book is hightly recommended to all. Kit

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 30, 2003

    An Exciting Thrill-Ride!!

    'Speaking in Tongues' by Jeffery Deaver is a clever thrill-ride that introduces an original type of psychopath: One that understands knives and guns are not the most dangerous weapons, but words are. Aaron Matthews is by far one of the most brilliant and intriguing villains in suspense books I've read, and I have read a lot of them. Jeffery Deaver gives the reader great insight into the minds of the characters. Aaron Matthews is a psychiatrist who uses his power of persuasion to kidnapp Megan McCall, the daughter of Bett McCall and Tate Collier, and exact a powerful revenge on this already crumbling family. 'Speaking in Tounges' is like 'Cape Fear', 'Along Came a Spider', and some other thrillers, with a whole new bent to it. The thing I admire is the writing style, and the way the words persuade and seduce. The novel brings forth such emotion, suspense, truthfulness, and even in some scenes, beauty. It is a masterpiece and a work of art.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 3, 2003

    This book is awesome!

    Ok I'm a pretty big reader. I go through alot of books no problem. I couldn't put this down. I was just consumed by the book. I love the character Aaron Matthews. This book is a definite must read. Place it at the top of your list and buy a copy. You won't regret it

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 21, 2001

    Pretty Good Book

    I have read between 5 - 7 books by Jeffrey Deaver. This wasn't the best of his works, but it still is worth reading. I found the pace of the book to alternate between fast moving and somewhat slower, but I found that I had to finish the book.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 21, 2001

    Page Turner!!

    This was my first Deaver book and I can tell you he is near the top of my favorites now. This book was a breeze to read and I look forward to reading some of his previous work. Real Page Turner.

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  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    exciting thriller

    Seventeen year old Megan McCall is required to see a psychologist after becoming very drunk and climbing the town¿s water tower. When she arrives at her appointment, her usual shrink is not there. Instead subbing is Dr. Bill Peters. He maneuvers Megan into writing notes to her parents that pour out how she feels about them. He next injects her with a chemical that knocks her out. Bill places the unconscious teen in the trunk of his Mercedes before driving to an abandoned insane asylum. Dr. Bill Peters is actually Dr. Aaron Matthews, a brilliant psychiatrist seeking vengeance from Megan¿s father for destroying his life. <P>Megan¿s parents, Brett and Tate, do not know their daughter well enough to realize that she is not at her father¿s home. Tate has been indifferent towards his daughter and Brett is interested in her own social life. By the time they conclude that something is wrong, they cannot persuade the police that Megan has been abducted and not a runaway. Matthews discredits anyone who intervenes otherwise. Brett and Tate turn amateur sleuths in a risky effort to rescue their daughter. <P> Although SPEAKING IN TONGUES lacks the deep intensity of some of Jeffrey Deaver¿s previous novels, the story line remains an exciting thriller. The plot emphasizes why the antagonist loathes the hero to the point that he will go to extreme lengths to see his enemy suffer. The relationship between Megan¿s parents seems unreal and staged, but Megan¿s behavior provides credibility to the cast. Though not quite a Lincoln, fans will enjoy Mr. Deaver¿s latest work. <P>Harriet Klausner

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 9, 2000

    The best

    This book is just the best.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 5, 2000

    Deaver is, quite simply, THE BEST!!!!!!!

    I don't know what else to say. I've now read almost all of his books and most of his short stories and my review headline says it all. I'm running out of adjectives to describe his books. I've used the words 'awesome', 'superb', magnificent', 'greatest' and 'terrific' to death. I promise I won't use any of those words in THIS review (even though they all could be used to describe SPEAKING IN TONGUES). If you have never read Deaver (WHERE YA BEEN?), then you need to quickly order all his books and have a Deaver-thon. You will NOT be disappointed. This is my guarantee to you (take it for what its worth). Pick ANY book by Deaver and you too will be using the words I am not going to mention in this review (see above) to describe whichever book you pick. I will close this review with two words and a ton of exclamation points for Mr. Deaver. ....WRITE FASTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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    Posted May 9, 2011

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    Posted July 25, 2011

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    Posted January 2, 2012

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    Posted December 7, 2008

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