Sometimes it's better to forget . . .
What would you do if you couldn't remember . . . Who you were? Where you lived? Or what you might have done?
Rush hour. Grand Central Station. Aaron Clifford stops dead in his tracks, commuters scurrying around him - but he doesn't know he's Aaron Clifford. He doesn't know who he is at all. No matter how hard he tries, he has no memory of why he's there, where he came from, or where he's going. It's impossible - maddening - but it's true.
The clues come slowly: from his surroundings, from his wallet, from the taste of dry martini still on his lips. But as Aaron Clifford gradually pieces together the keys to his life, with that knowledge comes cold-blooded fear - as he learns more than he ever knew before. Things he shouldn't know. Things he doesn't want to know. Things that could get him killed . . .
