The Finalists

Praise for The Finalists

"I raced through THE FINALISTS, which is not only a first-rate thriller but an insightful commentary on the challenges facing higher education. THE FINALISTS is proof positive that David Bell is one of the best thriller writers working today."
--Alma Katsu, author of RED WIDOW

Auteur

David Bell is a USA Today bestselling, award-winning author whose work has been translated into multiple languages. He’s currently a professor of English at Western Kentucky University in Bowling Green, Kentucky.

Texte du rabat

The competitive selection process for a prized college scholarship turns deadly in the latest thriller from USA Today bestselling author David Bell.

It's selection day at Hyde College-six students gather in Hyde House, which is locked for eight hours, in hopes of winning the prestigious Hyde Fellowship for their senior year. Troy Gaines is the college administrator overseeing the process. He also needs to meet with Nicholas Hyde, an unpredictable wealthy playboy and sole remaining heir of Hyde College's founder as the college desperately needs a larger donation to survive.

When the presumed frontrunning student dies mysteriously, Troy wants to postpone the process, but the benefactor Nicholas, citing the rigid Hyde family bylaws, insists they must continue or his family's scholarship will no longer exist for future students. This is a tradition that rewards one student every year-no matter what. But when someone else turns up dead, the remaining students and Troy worry someone is picking them off one by one.

With a student protest raging outside, and everyone trapped in Hyde House, the students start to turn against each another, and Troy will have to find a way out before someone else dies.

Story Locale: Small town Kentucky

Échantillon de lecture

1

 

The house sits on the far eastern edge of campus, nestled in the woods among the sycamores, the maples, and the white oaks, all older than the college. Older than Kentucky itself. To reach it by car, one must turn left off the main road that circles campus and onto Ezekiel Hyde Lane, a narrow, winding strip of asphalt that cuts through the trees, enters the clearing, and ends in the small parking lot on the side of Hyde House. On foot, the house can be reached by way of the numerous paths that cut through the trees and give the campus its natural beauty.

 

I step out of my car and look back up the road I just traveled, and it's easy to believe the world doesn't exist even though the rest of campus is just a third of a mile away. Standing on the Hyde House grounds can feel like standing in another century, which is exactly the way Ezekiel Hyde, the founder of the college and its first president, wanted it to stay.

 

The sun is bright, and its rays hit the windows of Hyde House, reflecting the light, capturing the morning glow.

 

Is it weird to say the sight of that house still lifts my spirits?

 

It's eight fifteen, and I'm early. Which is good. I want to be here before the students. More than anything, I want to be here before Ezekiel Hyde's great-great-great-great-grandson, Nicholas, arrives.

 

I climb the portico steps to the Neo-Federal structure. Up close the brick is more weathered than I realized. I reach for the brass knob, which is tarnished. The heavy black door needs to be repainted. For years, the college's board of trustees has wanted to renovate the house, but the money is never there. The college has a list of projects that never get done.

 

I pull on the knob and, not surprisingly, find the door locked.

 

I step off the right side of the portico, my shoes sinking into the soft soil, and press my face against the window. I've been in Hyde House many times for college events and know the layout well. I'm staring into the music room, the space where Major Hyde, his family, and subsequent generations of Hydes came to listen to recitals on the piano. The piano originally moved to the house by Major Hyde fell into disrepair and was sold in the 1990s, but a music stand remains along with a bust of Major Hyde's favorite composer, Wagner.

 

The sun warms the back of my neck. I wait on the lawn in front of the house. In the distance, the campus is quiet on a Saturday morning in April. The students sleep off the night before. Purple hyacinths bloom in the flower beds, and I catch their overwhelming scent. A robin chirps in a nearby tree.

 

I want to call Rachel, apologize for our fight earlier. Money. We only fight about money. We have to decide whether to get new windows or a new roof, and we disagree about which is the higher priority. Our household is like the college-there's never enough money to go around.

 

But before I can hit the call button, the phone rings.

 

"Shoot," I say, then answer. "Hello?"

 

"Hey, Troy. It's Grace."

 

"Hey, Grace." I try to keep my voice buoyant and not let any irritation show, even though my boss-the president of the college-is calling to check up on me. But she's not just my boss-she's my friend. She and Rachel belong to the same book club, and just last weekend Grace and her husband, Doug, came over to our house for drinks. "How are you on this fine morning?"

 

"Is he there?" she asks. She cuts to the chase. Today is about business. On another day, we would talk about our kids-Grace's oldest son, Michael, is in the same grade as my oldest daughter, Rebecca-but I know Grace has other things on her mind.

 

"If by 'he' you mean Nicholas Hyde, then no, he isn't here yet. No one is."

 

"Damn it. When did you talk to him last?"

 

"It's been about a month. And that was just a short e-mail."

 

"Yeah." Grace sounds defeated. She never sounds defeated. "I can't get ahold of him either. Did you know he left Kentucky and moved to California?"

 

"He did? I thought he was still living in Lexington. He didn't tell me."

 

"He's lost both his parents in the last year. That's a terrible blow for anyone. And I know he was close to his mother. Very close."

 

"Maybe that's why he moved to California. His mom was his last real family tie here."

 

"I'm worried about this, Troy. He's not connected to the college or to Kentucky the way the Hydes always have been. You know as well as I do his father would never have left us twisting in the wind."

 

"You're absolutely right. I'm worried too. Nicholas is pretty much the only living heir of Ezekiel Hyde. Certainly the only direct descendant. And he controls the estate."

 

"And they've been giving us less and less every year. For the last decade. And it's been coming to us later and later every year, which makes it harder to budget and plan. Is it too early for a drink?"

 

"A bit. But if you want to get one tonight, you know our patio bar is always open to you and Doug."

 

A car comes down the main road and turns onto Ezekiel Hyde Lane. It makes the slow, winding run in my direction and pulls up and parks next to mine. An older model with a dent in the fender. A middle-aged man steps out, trim and tall. He wears a dark suit with a white shirt and a thin black tie.

 

"The students are starting to arrive. I think this is-"

 

"Troy," Grace says, "remember what we talked about."

 

I know right away what she means. The 100 More Initiative I've been working on for the past two years.

 

"I think it's fantastic you want to increase the number of minority and first-time students at the college. That's why we promoted you to this position. It's not just because you're my friend and a nice guy. It's to raise money. But we've been falling short. You've been falling short. The Hydes are giving less, so we …