{"product_id":"open-season-isbn-9780593598955","title":"Open Season","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES\u003c\/i\u003e BESTSELLER • The iconic thriller series that inspired the upcoming streaming show on Prime Video\u003ci\u003e, \u003c\/i\u003ein development now!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePsychologist Alex Delaware and Homicide Detective Milo Sturgis race against time to find a twisted killer in this riveting novel from the “master of suspense” (\u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Times\u003c\/i\u003e).\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePeople come to Los Angeles to chase their dreams. Sometimes they find themselves cast into a nightmare. And sometimes, the most ardent dreamers turn out to be the most vicious monsters.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe body of an aspiring actress is found dumped near a hospital emergency room. She’s been drugged and murdered and the motive for the callous crime remains maddeningly out of reach. Until, a prime suspect materializes. Another Hollywood hopeful. Only to be shot dead by a sniper using a weapon that turns out to have been catalogued in a previous murder. And another, before that. It’s not long before more bodies begin piling up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhat makes the murderous spree baffling is the apparent lack of connection among the victims. Is this the work of a random thrill killer, the toughest of all cases to unravel?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut as Alex and Milo dig deeper they’re faced with an even knottier scenario: a highly complex killer with deep-seated motivation that will require all of their highly honed skills to decipher.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis thrilling page-turner from #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestseller Jonathan Kellerman is a tale of psychological complexity, dark suspense, and shocking surprises. A wild ride through L.A.’s surreal underbelly climaxed by an edge-of-the chair conclusion.“\u003ci\u003eOpen Season\u003c\/i\u003e is fast-paced, suspense-laden and boasts a true surprise ending, even for those who thought they had it figured out sooner. Like me.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—BookPage\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The story moves quickly and smoothly, with vivid descriptions . . . A treat for fans of crime fiction. Delaware and Sturgis are a durable duo.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Kirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“These books are so good; the bromance\/working relationship between Milo and Alex [is] the highlight of these novels. Fans of the long running series will enjoy this one.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Red Carpet Crash\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eOpen Season \u003c\/i\u003eis Kellerman’s fortieth Delaware\/Sturgis novel. I have read them all and never tire of the formula . . . it’s all about the chase. Kellerman is a master of engaging the reader and not letting go until the end.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Men Reading Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eJonathan Kellerman\u003c\/b\u003e has lived in two worlds: clinical psychologist and #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of more than fifty crime novels. His unique perspective on human behavior has led to the creation of the Alex Delaware series,\u003ci\u003e The Butcher’s Theate\u003c\/i\u003er, \u003ci\u003eBilly Straight\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Conspiracy Club\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eTwisted\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eTrue Detectives\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eThe Murderer’s Daughter\u003c\/i\u003e. With his wife, bestselling novelist Faye Kellerman, he co-authored \u003ci\u003eDouble Homicide\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eCapital Crimes\u003c\/i\u003e. With his son, bestselling novelist Jesse Kellerman, he co-authored \u003ci\u003eThe Burning\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eHalf Moon Bay\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eA Measure of Darkness\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eCrime Scene\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Golem of Hollywood\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eThe Golem of Paris\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\u003e and \u003ci\u003eWith Strings Attached: The Art and Beauty of Vintage Guitars\u003c\/i\u003e. He has won the Goldwyn, Edgar, and Anthony awards and the Lifetime Achievement Award from the American Psychological Association, and has been nominated for a Shamus Award. Jonathan and Faye Kellerman live in California.\u003cb\u003eChapter 1\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe images were grainy and blurred. But they told a story.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe storyteller was a camera perched above the entrance to Westside Acu-Care Hospital on National Boulevard, a short stroll west of Robertson. The only active location on a grimy stretch of warehouses dominated by the concrete spaghetti of freeway overpasses.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe lens was a poorly placed witness, focused narrowly on a right-of-center slice of the hospital’s circular drop-off area. Luckily, it had captured the basics.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSaturday, two fifty-three a.m.: A car, dark, compact, speeds around the outer rim of the circle and stops short, rocking back and forth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSeven seconds later, the driver’s door swings open and remains that way.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA man in a dark hoodie, pants, and gloves exits, runs to the rear right passenger door, and flings it open. Stooping, he reaches in and begins sliding something out. As the bulk of that something is brought outside of the car, it takes form.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOblong, swaddled in something dark.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBending his knees and lifting smoothly, the man slings the shape over his shoulder, totes it a few feet, and lays it down with no apparent tenderness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFive seconds later, he’s driven off and the thing, human-sized and inert, remains on the pavement.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMilo stopped the tape. “In answer to your next question, not for six minutes. The guard took an unauthorized bathroom break and didn’t get back until then. Seventy-eight years old so I guess he gets some kind of pass.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis frown said not much of one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI said, “Impressive security.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Place was run by skeleton crew, a nurse told me they’re probably going out of business.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe tapped his computer monitor. “Top of that, the camera’s an antique, the techies couldn’t tell a thing about make and model. And you saw the tags. As in none.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRemoving license plates said careful planning. Likewise gloves and a face-blocking hood. Milo has the highest solve rate in the department. No sense mentioning any of that.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe rubbed his face. “Weird place. If there were patients, I didn’t see them.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI knew the hospital’s history.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAbortion mill morphing to a slip-and-fall physical rehab center then to one of those inpatient drug rehabs that promises everything and delivers nothing. Each transformation short-lived and polluted by missteps and legal wrangling.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe new owners, a New York–based health-care outfit with connections to New York senators, had tried switching to pediatric urgent care funded by government money. The location made success unlikely. So did several malpractice suits that had scared parents away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut grant money kept flowing and now the place was tagged as a “neighborhood-based acute-care facility serving the greater, diverse community.” With Cedars, Kaiser, and the U. within easy driving distance, it had no reason to exist.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI knew all of that because during the pediatric phase, I’d evaluated a nine-year-old boy whose broken femur had been set incompetently at Westside, leading to the possibility of a permanent limp.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy job had been to tell the court how that would impact a kid psychologically.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNot profound findings but the plaintiff’s attorney needed someone like me to spell them out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMilo said, “Any ideas?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI said, “Rewind.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe relinquished his desk chair so I could manipulate the tape’s stop-and-freeze. His office on the second floor of the Westside station is closet-sized and windowless and once he’s on his feet he displays all the serenity of a bear in a trap.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eStomping out to the corridor armed with his cellphone, he turned right. Diminishing heavy footsteps said he’d walked a ways.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen they stopped; none of the usual pacing. Probably calling the Coroner’s. For the third time since I’d been there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter my fifth viewing of the tape, I went out to the hallway.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMilo was thirty feet away, just standing there. A black eyebrow tented. He walked toward me. “Spot anything?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI said, “Maybe the techies can get a more precise height estimate but he’s good-sized—probably tall as you—and solidly built. The way he lifts and carries says he’s strong and practiced, so he could work a job requiring muscle. Or he spends a lot of time in the gym.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis nod said he’d reached the same conclusions.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTwisted lips said he’d hoped for more.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI looked at his phone. “Any progress at the crypt?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe smiled. “Good guess—scratch that, excellent intellectual reasoning.” He pocketed the phone. “Nah, it was a busy night, she hasn’t even been moved to storage. One promising development. Basia just came on shift, and she promised to facilitate.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDr. Basia Lopatinski is his favorite forensic pathologist. Smart, hardworking, inevitably cheerful, she’d been a tenured professor in Poland, had finally gotten board certification in the U.S.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI said, “Go, Basia.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe said, “If I was oriented that way, I’d try to marry her. Let’s get some coffee.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWe took the stairs down to the ground floor, exited onto Butler, continued north to Santa Monica Boulevard then west along the weekend-quiet thoroughfare.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWarm, sunny Saturday. Beautiful weather always seems cruel when you’re dealing with the loss of a human being. But that’s L.A., seductive and perverse.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMilo’s grimly set mouth set the tone: time to walk in silence.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe’d arrived at the death scene at three thirty and it was now just over seven hours later. His green eyes were sharp but the rest of him looked shopworn, pockmarked pallor clashing harshly with coarse black hair, dirt-gray windbreaker rumpled irretrievably, brown khaki cargo pants worn low and freed from the swell of his gut, sagging sadly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNew desert boots, though. Tan with pink soles. Likely a gift from Rick, who’d long given up trying to spiff up his partner’s wardrobe. The exception: replacing boots defeated every few months by their wearer’s bulk.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOnly an hour had passed since Milo’s call at nine forty-five but it felt like much longer. When my phone vibrated on the kitchen counter, Robin and I were finishing a late breakfast and sharing bits of omelet with our little French bulldog, Blanche.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRobin reached over, retrieved the phone, read my screen and grinned. “We squeaked through.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Big Guy?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Who else.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI put the phone on speaker. “Morning. What’s up?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Hope you’re not busy.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRobin smiled, kissed me, and got up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBefore following, Blanche cocked her head curiously.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI said, “Promise you a walk when I get back.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs they left, they both had that knowing look.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI was behind the wheel of the Seville by the time Milo finished giving me the basics. Took Beverly Glen through Westwood over to Pico, hooked west to Butler Avenue, then south to the West L.A. station.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA uniform was waiting at the staff lot to card-key me in.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Good morning, Doctor.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Good morning.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNot for everyone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSubstantial time lapse between the discovery of an unexplained death and any sort of forensic analysis is the rule, not the exception. Unlike what you’re fed on whiz-bang TV shows, processing a dead human is a painstaking process involving a small army of people who know tortoise beats hare every time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUniforms are the first to arrive, then detectives, then coroner’s investigators and crime scene techs. Everyone knows the rules and waits their turn.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLast in line are the crypt drivers who bag and zip then clickety-clack the gurney open and roll the body smoothly into their van as the wheeled cart folds flat obediently. The duration of the ride to 1104 North Mission Road in East L.A. depends on where in the sprawl of L.A. County the crime occurred and, more important, the traffic situation. Just like any other commute.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe body’s driven to the back of the Coroner’s and eased onto a loading dock. No tasteless humor to be heard, just the mute ballet of people doing their jobs.#1 New York Times bestselling author","brand":"Ballantine Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48233452699877,"sku":"NP9780593598955","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593598955.jpg?v=1767734228","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/open-season-isbn-9780593598955","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}