From New York Times bestselling author Jodi Picoult, a powerful novel that explores the unbreakable bond between parent and child, and questions whether you can reinvent yourself in the course of a lifetime—or if your mistakes are carried forever. Fourteen-year-old Trixie Stone is in love for the first time. She’s also a straight-A high school student, pretty and popular, and the light of her father’s life... Comic book artist Daniel Stone would do anything to protect his daughter. But when a single act of violence shatters her innocence, seemingly mild-mannered Daniel’s convictions are put to the test—while his own shockingly tumultuous past, hidden even from his family, comes to light. Now, everything Trixie’s ever believed about her hero, her father, seems to be a lie as Daniel ventures to hell and back, seeking revenge. Will the price be the bond they share? Revealing an “exceptional, unflinching, and utterly chilling” ( The Washington Post ) portrait of today’s youth culture, Jodi Picoult pulls readers inside a shattered family facing the toughest questions of morality and forgiveness. "Picoult is a master of the craft of storytelling." -- Houston Chronicle "Picoult skillfully twists and turns this story in so many ways, keeping readers wondering how things will turn out until nearly the last, satisfying page." -- Orlando Sentinel "This book will take your breath away. . . . Grade A." -- Entertainment Weekly "Picoult spins fast-paced tales of family dysfunction, betrayal, and redemption. . . . [Her] depiction of these rites of contemporary adolescence is exceptional: unflinching, unjudgmental, utterly chilling." -- The Washington Post Jodi Picoult received an AB in creative writing from Princeton and a master’s degree in education from Harvard. The recipient of the 2003 New England Book Award for her entire body of work, she is the author of twenty-seven novels, including the #1 New York Times bestsellers House Rules , Handle With Care , Change of Heart , and My Sister’s Keeper , for which she received the American Library Association’s Margaret A. Edwards Award. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband and three children. Visit her website at JodiPicoult.com. Prologue December 23, 2005 This is how it feels when you realize your child is missing: The pit of your stomach freezes fast, while your legs go to jelly. There's one single, blue-bass thud of your heart. The shape of her name, sharp as metal filings, gets caught between your teeth even as you try to force it out in a shout. Fear breathes like a monster into your ear: Where did I see her last? Would she have wandered away? Who could have taken her? And then, finally, your throat seals shut, as you swallow the fact that you've made a mistake you will never be able to fix. The first time it happened to Daniel Stone, a decade ago, he had been visiting Boston. His wife was at a colloquium at Harvard; that was a good enough reason to take a family vacation. While Laura sat on her panel, Daniel pushed Trixie's stroller the cobbled length of the Freedom Trail. They fed the ducks in the Public Garden; they watched the sloe-eyed sea turtles doing water ballet at the aquarium. After that, when Trixie announced that she was hungry, Daniel headed toward Faneuil Hall and its endless food court. That particular April day was the first one warm enough for New Englanders to unzip their jackets, to remember that there was any season other than winter. In addition to the centipedes of school groups and the shutter-happy tourists, it seemed that the whole of the financial district had bled out, men Daniel's age in suits and ties, who smelled of aftershave and envy. They sat with their gyros and chowder and corned beef on rye on the benches near the statue of Red Auerbach. They sneaked sideways glances at Daniel. He was used to this -- it was unusual for a father to be the primary caretaker of his four-year-old daughter. Women who saw him with Trixie assumed that his wife had died, or that he was newly divorced. Men who saw him quickly looked the other way, embarrassed on his behalf. And yet Daniel would not have traded his setup for the world. He enjoyed molding his job around Trixie's schedule. He liked her questions: Did dogs know they were naked? Is adult supervision a power grown-ups use to fight bad guys? He loved the fact that when Trixie was spacing out in her car seat and wanted attention, she always started with "Dad. . . ?" even if Laura happened to be driving the car. "What do you want for lunch?" Daniel asked Trixie that day in Boston. "Pizza? Soup? A burger?" She stared up at him from her stroller, a miniature of her mother with the same blue eyes and strawberry hair, and nodded yes to all three. Daniel had hefted the stroller up the steps to the central food court, the scent of the salted ocean air giving way to grease and onions and stir-fry. He would get Trixie a burger and fries, he decided, and for himsel