{"product_id":"billy-straight-isbn-9780345540133","title":"Billy Straight","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES \u003c\/i\u003eBESTSELLER\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A resourceful runaway alone in the wilds of Los Angeles, twelve-year-old Billy Straight suddenly witnesses a brutal stabbing in Griffith Park. Fleeing into the night, Billy cannot shake the horrific memory of the savage violence, nor the pursuit of a cold-blooded killer. For wherever Billy turns—from Hollywood Boulevard to the boardwalks of Venice—he is haunted by the \u003ci\u003echuck, chuck\u003c\/i\u003e sound of a knife sinking into flesh. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e“Taut, compelling . . . Everything a thriller ought to be. The writing is excellent. The plotting is superior. The characters ring true.”—\u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e As LAPD homicide detective Petra Connor desperately searches for the murderer, as the media swarms mercilessly around the story, the vicious madman stalks closer to his prey. Only Petra can save Billy. But it will take all her cunning to uncover a child lost in a fierce urban labyrinth—where a killer seems right at home.“Jonathan Kellerman has justly earned his reputation as a master of the psychological thriller. . . . The writing is vivid, the suspense sustained, and [he] has arranged one final, exquisitely surprising plot twist to confound the complacent reader.”—\u003ci\u003ePeople\u003c\/i\u003e (Book of the Week)\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Riveting . . . nobody evokes Los Angeles better than Jonathan Kellerman.”—\u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Times\u003c\/i\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 and New Mexico.In the park you see things.\u003cbr\u003eBut not what I saw tonight.\u003cbr\u003eGod, God . . .\u003cbr\u003eI wanted to be dreaming but I was awake, smelling chili meat and onions and the pine trees.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFirst, the car drove up to the edge of the parking lot. They got out and talked and he grabbed her, like in a hug. I thought maybe they were going to kiss and I'd watch that.\u003cbr\u003eThen all of a sudden, she made a weird sound--surprised, squeaky, like a cat or dog that gets stepped on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe let go of her and she fell. Then he bent down next to her and his arm started moving up and down really fast. I thought he was punching her, and that was bad enough, and I kept thinking should I do something. But then I heard another sound, fast, wet, like the butcher at Stater Brothers back in Watson chopping meat--chuck chuck chuck.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe kept doing it, moving his arm up and down.\u003cbr\u003eI wasn't breathing. My heart was on fire. My legs were cold. Then they turned hot-wet.\u003cbr\u003ePissing my pants like a stupid baby!\u003cbr\u003eThe chuck chuck stopped. He stood up, big and wide, wiped his hands on his pants. Something was in his hand and he held it far from his body.\u003cbr\u003eHe looked all around. Then in my direction.\u003cbr\u003eCould he see me, hear me--smell me?\u003cbr\u003eHe kept looking. I wanted to run but knew he'd hear me. But staying here could trap me--how could he see anything behind the rocks? They're like a cave with no roof, just cracks you can look through, which is the reason I picked them as one of my places.\u003cbr\u003eMy stomach started to churn around, and I wanted to run so badly my leg muscles were jumping under my skin.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA breeze came through the trees, blowing up pine smell and piss stink.\u003cbr\u003eWould it blow against the chili-burger's wrapping paper and make noise? Would he smell me?\u003cbr\u003eHe looked around some more. My stomach hurt so bad.\u003cbr\u003eAll of a sudden he jumped ran back to the car, got in, drove away.\u003cbr\u003eI didn't want to see when he passed under the lamp at the corner of the parking lot, didn't want to read the license plate.\u003cbr\u003eplyr 1.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe letters burned into my mind.\u003cbr\u003eWhy did I look?\u003cbr\u003eWhy?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI'm still sitting here. My Casio says 1:12 a.m.\u003cbr\u003eI need to get out of here, but what if he's just driving around and comes back--no, that would be stupid, why would he do that?\u003cbr\u003eI can't stand it. She's down there, and I smell like piss and meat and onions and chili. Real dinner from the Oki-Rama on the Boulevard, that Chinese guy who never smiles or looks at your face. I paid $2.38 and now I want to throw it up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy jeans are starting to get sticky and itchy. Going over to the public bathroom at the other end of the lot is too dangerous . . . that arm going up and down. Like he was just doing a job. He wasn't as big as Moron, but he was big enough. She trusted him, let him hug her . . . what did she do to make him so mad . . . could she still be alive?\u003cbr\u003eNo way. Impossible.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI listen carefully to see if she's making any sounds. Nothing but the freeway noise from across the east side of the park and traffic from the Boulevard. Not much traffic tonight. Sometimes, when the wind blows north, you hear ambulance sirens, motorcycles, car honks. The city's all around. The park looks like the country, but I know the difference.\u003cbr\u003eWho is she?--forget that, I don't want to know.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhat I want is to put tonight on rewind.\u003cbr\u003eThat squeaky sound--like he took the air right out of her. For sure she's . . . gone. But what if she isn't?\u003cbr\u003eEven if she isn't, she will be soon, all that chucking. And what could I do for her, anyway? Breathe into her mouth, put my face in her blood?\u003cbr\u003eWhat if he comes back while I'm doing it?\u003cbr\u003eWould he come back? That would be stupid, but there are always surprises. She sure found that out.\u003cbr\u003eI can't help her. I have to put this all out of my mind.\u003cbr\u003eI'll sit here for ten more minutes--no, fifteen. Twenty. Then I'll get my Place Two stuff together and move.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhere to? Place One, up near the observatory, is too far, and so are Three and Four, even though Three would be good 'cause it has a stream for washing. That leaves Five, in the fern tangle behind the zoo, all those trees. A little closer, but still a long walk in the dark.\u003cbr\u003eBut it's also the hardest one to find.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOkay, I'll go to Five. Me and the animals. The way they cry and roar and smash against their cages makes it hard to sleep, but tonight I probably won't sleep anyway.\u003cbr\u003eMeantime, I sit here and wait.\u003cbr\u003ePray.\u003cbr\u003eOur Father in heaven, how about no more surprises?\u003cbr\u003eNot that praying ever got me anything, and sometimes I wonder if there's anyone up there to pray to or just stars--humongous balls of gas in an empty black universe.\u003cbr\u003eThen I get worried that I'm blaspheming.\u003cbr\u003eMaybe some kind of God is up there; maybe He's saved me lots of times and I'm just too dumb to know it. Or not a good enough person to appreciate Him.\u003cbr\u003eMaybe God saved me tonight, putting me behind the rocks, instead of out in the open.\u003cbr\u003eBut if he had seen me when he drove up, he probably would've changed his mind and not done anything to her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo did God want her to . . .\u003cbr\u003eNo, he just would've gone somewhere else to do it . . . whatever.\u003cbr\u003eIn case You saved me, thank You, God.\u003cbr\u003eIn case You're up there, do You have a plan for me?#1 New York Times bestselling author Author of Guilt","brand":"Ballantine Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300494856421,"sku":"NP9780345540133","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780345540133.jpg?v=1767722621","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/billy-straight-isbn-9780345540133","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}