THE KILLING HOUR

What Lisa had to say developing THE KILLING HOUR prior to its publication in July 2003

Most novels start with a Really Good Idea. Unfortunately, after completing THE SURVIVORS CLUB in January of 2001, I didn't have one. So, I did what any good suspense novelist would do. I watched "Law & Order." I worked on my tennis game. I had long discussions with my assorted pets about what sort of book they might want to read. And then one night I watched a show on the History channel regarding Devil's Island.

The French used the island as a penal colony starting in 1852. Nicknamed, "the Green Hell," Devil's Island was reserved for political prisoners and considered the worst punishment possible. By day, the men hacked down giant trees while trying to survive on meager servings of gruel. At night, they were herded into concrete bunkers deep in the jungle where they awaited an even worse fate. Poisonous snakes. Venomous spiders. Vampire bats. The prisoners wrote in their journals of waking up to find bats feasting on their emaciated arms and snakes curling up their legs. Ewwww, I thought. And then I knew I had a book idea.

I called Bantam. I want to do a book, I said, where a man kidnaps women in pairs. He leaves the first woman's body as a map filled with vital clues. Interpret these clues in time, and the police can find the second woman still alive. Fail, and well, see what happens when a young woman in party clothes is abandoned in the middle of gator infested waters. Oh, and I want the book to feature Kimberly Quincy and I want to start the novel at Quantico, because I think that would be very cool. Bantam agreed. And all was good.

Except I had a problem. The logical clues for my killer to use should be neat geological stuff-say water that could be traced back to one specific pond, or maybe the leaf from a rare plant found in only one yard in the entire state. That would be very slick, very "CSI." Unfortunately, I don't know anything about forensics tests, let alone unique geological indicators. I'm a former business consultant for heaven's sake. I can barely read a compass, let alone start a fire by rubbing together two sticks.

I decided not to mention this to my publisher. You learn early in this business that the publisher doesn't need to know everything. In fact, everyone's happier that way.

So I went about researching what I did know. I had the unique opportunity to visit the FBI Academy several years ago, but I wanted to see it again before using it as a primary location. So, with a mere handful of phone calls, half a dozen official memos, and two months of nail biting, I secured permission to visit Quantico and interview an agent on Academy life. Perfect information, I thought, to prepare Kimberly Quincy for her role as a New Agent.

But what to do about the geological data? Can you teach a former business consultant new tricks?

I confess, I got lucky. On my plane ride to Quantico , the man beside me introduced himself as a hydrologist with the US Geological Survey team. And I pounced on the poor guy as if he were the last bag of peanuts on the flight. Hydrologist? Would he know how to analyze water, then perhaps trace it back to its source? What if I, say, put water on a dead body? Could he trace that back to a specific stream or lake?

Believe it or not, the man answered my questions-and yep, you can do some pretty nifty things with water. Better yet, at the end of the flight, he agreed to put me in touch with other members of Virginia's USGS team, providing me with a virtual think tank of geologists, botanists, hydrologists, karst experts and palynologists. And if you think I'm bloodthirsty, wait 'til you've spent time with some federal employees.

I had two wonderful days at the FBI Academy. It's the kind of place that holds you in awe and never lets go. From visiting the BSU offices and the esteemed Hogan's Alley, to walking the PT course and outdoor firing ranges, the place is amazing. The people are also extremely nice, and unfailingly patient with a writer's endless questions. Food's not bad either. Let's just say Kimberly's going to have some fun.

After my interview with the FBI, I called up my newfound friends in the Richmond USGS office. I arranged to return to Virginia with my husband, where we conducted a weeklong tour of good places to hurt nice people.

I told you those government types were dangerous. I'm not kidding. In the course of one breakfast, the USGS guys mapped out all the really scary places in Virginia. Then they dreamt up wonderfully horrible ways people could die in those places. And then they thought of all the good clues that would lead a smart investigator right into the trap, er, place. I've never taken so many notes.

Then, because seeing is believing, they took my husband and I on a short tour of their recommended sites. (You see why I brought my husband now? When meeting complete strangers to look at potential crime scenes, I think a woman should always bring her spouse. Consider it a Lisa Gardner tip for longer living.)

By week's end, I was proud owner of six new friends, five pounds of reference books and three legal pads of notes. Now there was nothing left to do but go home and write.

And this is where our story ends. Because let's face it, there are no witty anecdotes involved in writing a novel. You simply plant your butt in front of the computer and do it. The fun is along the way when you think of that Really Good Idea, and then you happen to get the right seat on a plane.

So hang on for THE KILLING HOUR, available July 2003 from Bantam Books, where Kimberly grows up, joins the FBI and learns a little too much about rattlesnakes.