Hell and Gone

THANKS & PRAISE

If I could round up everyone who supported me during the writing of Hell and Gone and put them in a secret prison somewhere, those walls would contain the coolest people on earth.

First, I would use fabric hoods and plastic wrist-tie cuffs on a group of people I like to call… the Wardens.

My keeper and minder for thirteen-plus years now has been the lovable yet hardboiled David Hale Smith. This book is dedicated to him, not just for his faith in me, and his unflagging support and advice since the turn of the last century, but because he’s the kind of agent who inspires you in the present while keeping an eye on the bigger picture. I love DHS like a brother and without him I couldn’t have found my way through the novel you’re holding in your hands (or on your favorite e-reading device) (or direct mental implant if this is the year 2019).

By his side, smacking their batons against their gloved palms, are the amazing Richard Pine, Lauren Smythe, Danny and Heather Baror, Angela Cheng Caplan, Shauyi Tai, Jessica Tscha, and Kim Yau, as well as the whole (chain) gang at Inkwell Management.

In the brand-new Mulholland Wing of my secret prison you’ll find John Schoenfelder, Miriam Parker, Wes Miller, Michael Pietsch, Luisa Frontino, Theresa Giacopasi, Betsy Uhrig, Barbara Clark, Christine Valentine, and the rest of the stellar Little, Brown team. Some may question the wisdom of incarcerating my publishers, but you have to understand: they trapped me in a karaoke prison during BookExpo America 2011 and refused to let me out until I did my drunken Jim Morrison impression. It wasn’t pretty; they deserve the sentence they’ve received.

In an adjoining office in the control tower is Ruth Tross and the amazing Mulholland UK team. Their office has the wet bar, and they know exactly why. Next door you’ll find Kristof Kurz, Frank Dabrock, and the rest of the team at Heyne in Germany.

My official prison doc, and the man who keeps me from making serious medical blunders in all of my books, is the legendary Lou Boxer. He’s the most noir guy in all of Greater Philadelphia, yet an absolute sweetheart. Explain that one…

I would also forcibly (yet lovingly) detain certain people I like to call the Prisoners—those unfortunate souls doomed to a life sentence of breaking rocks in the tough-yet-fertile fields of publishing. This list includes the lifers and the new fish (and I’ll let you sort out who’s who):

Megan Abbott, Cameron Ashley, Janelle Asselin, Brian Azzarello, Jed Ayres, Josh Bazell, Eric Beetner, Stephen Blackmoore, Juliet Blackwell, Linda Brown, Ed Brubaker, Aldo Calcagno, Jon Cavalier, Sarah Cavalier, Stephanie “Mos Stef” Crawford, Scott and Sandi Cupp, Warren Ellis, Peter Farris, Erin Faye, Ed Fee, Joshua Hale Fialkov, James Frey, Joe Gangemi, Sara Gran, Allan “Sunshine” Guthrie, Charlaine Harris, Charlie Huston, Tania Hutchison, John Jordan, McKenna Jordan, Ruth Jordan (mystery nerd trivia: only two of the previous three Jordans are related!), Vince Keenan, Anne Kimbol, Katie Kubert, Ellen Clair Lamb, Terrill Lankford, Joe Lansdale, Simon Le Bon, Paul Leyden, Laura Lippman, Sophie Littlefield, Elizabeth-Amber Love, Mike MacLean, Mike Marts, David Macho, Patrick Millikin, Scott Montgomery, Lauren O’Brien, Jon Page, Barbara Peters, Ed and Kate Pettit, Keith Rawson, David Ready, Marc Resnick, Janet Rudolph, Jonathan Santlofer, David Schow, Joe Schreiber, Brett Simon, Jason Starr, Evelyn Taylor, Mark Ward, Dave “Vigoda” White, Elizabeth A. White.

I’m sure I’ve forgotten a ton of potential inmates here; my apologies in advance, and please go easy on me during my sentencing hearing.

Living nearby, in a private residence near the secret prison—all Alcatraz-style, natch—is my family: Meredith, Parker, and Sarah, who are incredibly understanding when I disappear into the prison of my own making (in the basement office of our northeast Philadelphia home) for long stretches of time.

And finally, a word of thanks to my former high school English teacher James Roach, who showed us Cool Hand Luke during a series of classes one week. Wish you’d stop bein’ so good to me, cap’n…