{"product_id":"obsession-isbn-9780345452641","title":"Obsession","description":"\u003cb\u003e#1 \u003ci\u003eWASHINGTON POST \u003c\/i\u003eBESTSELLER • The iconic thriller series that inspired the upcoming streaming show on Prime Video\u003ci\u003e, \u003c\/i\u003ein development now!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Jonathan Kellerman’s novels are an obsession; once started it is hard to quit.”—\u003ci\u003eOrlando Sentinel\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTanya Bigelow was a solemn little girl when Dr. Alex Delaware successfully treated her obsessive-compulsive symptoms. Now, at nineteen, Tanya returns with a curious request: that Delaware investigate her aunt’s deathbed confession of murder. While Delaware doubts that Patty Bigelow was capable of such a horrific act, he agrees to look into the matter. Armed with only the vaguest details, Delaware and LAPD detective Milo Stugris retrace Patty’s and Tanya’s nomadic and increasingly puzzling life. Then a very real murder tears open a terrifying tunnel into the past, where secrets—and bodies—are buried. As the tension mounts, Delaware and Sturgis uncover a tangled history of desperation, vengeance, and death—a legacy of evil that refuses to die.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eObsession\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The characters are rich, the story’s well-plotted and you won’t stop reading.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBoston Herald\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Filled with Kellerman’s psychological insight and action-packed drama.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eToronto Sun\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“Jonathan Kellerman’s novels are an obsession; once started it is hard to quit.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eOrlando Sentinel\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The characters are rich, the story’s well-plotted and you won’t stop reading.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBoston Herald\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Filled with Kellerman’s psychological insight and action-packed drama.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eToronto Sun\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for the novels of Jonathan Kellerman\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eGone\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “The denouement accelerates to breathtaking,  heart-pounding speed.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePittsburgh Post-Gazette\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e “Sharply written and well-paced.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eRage\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “[Kellerman is] a master of the grab-the-reader contest  . . . The chills start within the first two pages.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eSaint Paul \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003ePioneer Press\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e “[An]  adrenaline-fueled read.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePeople\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eTwisted\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A perfect whodunit–a tale told with  gusto . . . a thrilling, engrossing pace from the first page to the last.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eOrlando  Sentinel\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e “Delivers full measures of suspense, humor, and sleuthing.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLos Angeles  Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eJonathan Kellerman\u003c\/b\u003e is the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of more than three dozen bestselling crime novels, including the Alex Delaware series, \u003ci\u003eThe Butcher’s Theater, Billy Straight, The Conspiracy Club,\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003eTwisted, \u003c\/i\u003eand\u003ci\u003e True Detectives\u003c\/i\u003e. With his wife, bestselling novelist Faye Kellerman, he co-authored \u003ci\u003eDouble Homicide \u003c\/i\u003eand\u003ci\u003e Capital Crimes\u003c\/i\u003e. With his son, bestselling novelist Jesse Kellerman, he co-authored the first book of a new series, \u003ci\u003eThe Golem of Hollywood\u003c\/i\u003e. He is also the author of two children’s books and numerous nonfiction works, including \u003ci\u003eSavage Spawn: Reflections on Violent Children \u003c\/i\u003eand\u003ci\u003e With Strings Attached: The Art and Beauty of Vintage Guitars\u003c\/i\u003e. He has won the Goldwyn, Edgar, and Anthony awards and has been nominated for a Shamus Award. Jonathan and Faye Kellerman live in California, New Mexico, and New York.CHAPTER 1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePatty Bigelow hated surprises and did her best to avoid them. God had other ideas.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePatty’s concept of a supreme being wavered between Ho-Ho-Ho Santa and a Fire-Eyed Odin thrusting thunderbolts.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEither way, a white-bearded guy bunking down in the clouds. Depending on his mood, dispensing goodies or playing marbles with the planets.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf pressed, Patty would’ve called herself an agnostic. But when life went haywire why not be like everyone else and blame A Greater Power?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe night Lydia surprised her, Patty had been home for a couple of hours, trying to wind down after a tough day in the E.R. Mellowing out with a beer, then another, and when that didn’t work, giving in to The Urge.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFirst, she straightened the apartment, doing stuff that didn’t need doing. She ended up using a toothbrush on the kitchen counter grout, cleaned the toothbrush with a wire brush that she washed under hot water and picked clean. Still tense, she saved the best for last: arranging her shoes—wiping each loafer, sneaker, and sandal clean with a chamois, sorting and re-sorting by color, making sure everything pointed outward at precisely the same angle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTime for blouses and sweaters . . . the doorbell rang.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOne twenty a.m. in Hollywood, who the heck would be drop- ping in?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePatty got irritated, then nervous. Should’ve bought that gun. She took a carving knife to the door, made sure to use the peephole.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSaw black sky, no one out there . . . oh, yes there was.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen she realized what Lydia had done, she stood there, too stunned to blame anyone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLydia Bigelow Nardulli Soames Biefenbach was Patty’s baby sister but she’d crammed a lot more living into her thirty-five years than Patty wanted to think about.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDropout years, groupie years, barmaid years, sitting-on-back-of-the-Harley years. Vegas, Miami, San Antonio, Fresno, Mexico, New Mexico, Wyoming, Montana. No time for postcards or sisterly calls, the only time Patty heard from Liddie had to do with money.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLydia was quick to point out that the arrests were chickenshit, nothing that ever stuck. Responding to Patty’s silence when she collect-called from some backcountry lockup and wheedled bail money.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe always paid the money back, Patty granted her that. Always the same schedule: six months later, to the day.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLiddie could be efficient when she wanted to, but not when it came to men. Before, in between, and after the three stupid marriages flowed an endless parade of pierced, inked, dirty-fingernailed, vacant-eyed losers who Liddie insisted on calling her “honeys.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll that fooling around, but miraculously only one kid.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThree years ago, Lydia taking twenty-three hours to push the baby out, alone in some osteopathic hospital outside of Missoula. Tanya Marie, five pounds, six ounces. Liddie sent Patty a newborn picture and Patty sent money. Most newborns were red and monkeylike but this kid looked pretty cute. Two years later, Lydia and Tanya showed up at Patty’s door, dropping in on the way to Alaska.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo talk about why Juneau, were they meeting anyone, was Liddie clean. No hints about who the father was. Patty wondered if Lydia even knew.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePatty was no kid person and her neck got tight when she saw the toddler holding Liddie’s hand. Expecting some wild little brat, given the circumstances. Her niece turned out to be sweet and quiet, kind of pretty with wispy white-blond hair, searching green eyes that would’ve fit a middle-aged woman, and restless hands.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Drop-in” stretched to a ten-day stay. Patty ended up deciding Tanya was real cute, not much of a pain, if you didn’t count the stink of dirty diapers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJust as suddenly as she’d shown up, Liddie announced they were leaving.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePatty was relieved but also disappointed. “You did okay, Lid, she’s a real little lady.” Standing in her front door, watching as Lydia dragged the kid out with one hand, toted a battered suitcase with the other. A Yellow Cab idled at the curb, belching smog. Noise rose from down on the boulevard. Across the street a bum slouched past.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLydia flipped her hair and grinned. Her once-gorgeous smile was insulted by two seriously chipped front teeth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A lady? Meaning not like me, Pats?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oh, stop, take it for what it was,” said Patty.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Hey,” said Lydia, “I’m a slut and proud of it.” Shaking her chest and wiggling her butt. Laughing loud enough for the cabbie to turn his head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTanya was two but she must’ve known Mommy was being inappropriate because she winced. Patty was sure of it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePatty wanted to protect her. “All I meant to say was she’s great, you can bring her anytime.” Smiling at Tanya but the kid was looking at the sidewalk.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLiddie laughed. “Even with all those shitty diapers?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow the kid stared off into the distance. Patty walked over to her and touched the top of her little head. Tanya started to recoil, then froze.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePatty bent a bit and talked softly. “You’re a good girl, a real little lady.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTanya laced her hands in front of her and mustered up the most painful little smile Patty had ever seen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs if some inner voice was coaching her in the fine points of niece-to-aunt etiquette.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLydia said, “Shitty diapers are okay? Cool, I’ll remember that, Pats, on the off chance we ever roll around here again.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What’s in Juneau?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Snow.” Lydia laughed and her boobs bounced, barely restrained by a hot-pink halter top. She had tattoos now, too many of them. Her hair looked dry and coarse, her eyes were getting grainy around the edges, and those long dancer’s legs were getting jiggly around the inner thighs. All that and the broken teeth shouted Racing Over the Hill! Patty wondered what would happen when all of Lydia’s looks went south.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Stay warm,” she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oh, yeah,” said Lydia. “I got my ways for that.” Taking hold of the little girl’s wrist and pulling her toward the car.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePatty went after them. Bent to get eye-level with the kid as Lydia handed the suitcase off to the cabbie. “Nice to meet you, little Tanya.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat sounded awkward. What did she know about kids?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTanya bit her lip, chewed hard.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow here it was, thirteen months later, a hot night in June, the air stinking of Patty didn’t know what, and the kid was back at her door, tiny as ever, wearing saggy jeans and a frayed white top, her hair curlier, more yellow than white.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBiting and gnawing exactly the same way. Holding a stuffed orca that was coming apart at the seams.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis time, she stared straight up at Patty.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA rumbling red Firebird was parked exactly where the cab had been. One of those souped-up numbers with a spoiler and fat tires and wire dealies clamping down the hood. The hood thumped like a fibrillating heart.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs Patty hurried toward the car the Firebird peeled out, Lydia’s platinum shag barely visible through the tinted glass on the passenger side.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePatty thought her sister had waved, but she was never really sure.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe kid hadn’t moved.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen Patty got back to her, Tanya reached in a pocket and held out a note.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCheap white paper, red letterhead from the Crazy Eight Motor Hotel, Holcomb, Nevada.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBelow that, Lydia’s handwriting, way too pretty for someone with only junior high. Lydia had never put any effort into learning penmanship or anything else during those nine years but things came easy to her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe kid started to whimper.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePatty took her hand—cold and teeny and soft—and read the note.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDear Big Sis,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYou said she was a lady.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMaybe with you she can really turn out to be one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLittle Sis#1 New York Times bestselling author","brand":"Ballantine Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302166483173,"sku":"NP9780345452641","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780345452641.jpg?v=1767733985","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/obsession-isbn-9780345452641","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}