{"product_id":"the-scarred-woman-isbn-9781101984239","title":"The Scarred Woman","description":"\u003cb\u003eINSPIRATION FOR THE NETFLIX SERIES DEPT. Q\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e and #1 internationally bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Keeper of Lost Causes\u003c\/i\u003e delivers his most captivating and suspenseful Department Q novel yet—perfect for fans of Stieg Larsson. \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDetective Carl Mørck of Department Q, Copenhagen's cold cases division, meets his toughest challenge yet when the dark, troubled past of one of his own team members collides with a sinister unsolved murder.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn a Copenhagen park the body of an elderly woman is discovered. The case bears a striking resemblance to another unsolved homicide investigation from over a decade ago, but the connection between the two victims confounds the police. Across town a group of young women are being hunted. The attacks seem random, but could these brutal acts of violence be related? Detective Carl Mørck of Department Q is charged with solving the mystery.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBack at headquarters, Carl and his team are under pressure to deliver results: failure to meet his superiors’ expectations will mean the end of Department Q. Solving the case, however, is not their only concern. After an earlier breakdown, their colleague Rose is still struggling to deal with the reemergence of her past—a past in which a terrible crime may have been committed. It is up to Carl, Assad, and Gordon to uncover the dark and violent truth at the heart of Rose’s childhood before it is too late.\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eThe Scarred Woman\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Scandinavian crime novels don’t get much darker than Jussi Adler-Olsen’s Department Q police procedurals.”—Marilyn Stasio, \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[S]atisfyingly dark, both in tone and content...an undeniable page-turner.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[R]iveting...All of the Department Q books contain dark humor, high satire, social commentary—not always politically correct—and grand villains, with \u003ci\u003eThe Scarred Woman\u003c\/i\u003e being no exception.”—BookReporter\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[M]esmerizing...The cleverly devised plot paints a fascinating tale of murder and mayhem with a touch of witty and subtle humor.”—Fresh Fiction \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You’ll be desperate to figure out the identity of the scarred woman as the suspense drives toward a deadly and at times comical conclusion.”—Associated Press\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The novel is eerily timely...[and] the relationship and banter between Carl and his associate Assad, with Assad's ‘linguistic blunders,’ continue to elicit chuckles. Adler-Olsen is deadly serious, though, and compassionate when it comes to poor, traumatized Rose. She may have emotional scars but her friends have got her back.”—\u003ci\u003eShelf Awareness\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The legions of readers still enjoying the Millennium books will devour this seventh in a series starring the officers of Copenhagen’s cold-case unit, Department Q.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Filled with dark humor and tight plotting....Highly recommended.”—Spinetingler Magazine\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Highly recommended as dark literature written with beauty and class.”—The Suspense Is Thrilling Me Blog\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[A] superbly constructed multi-layered mystery.”—Murder, Mayhem, and More \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for Jussi Adler-Olsen's Department Q series\u003cu\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/u\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It can be hard to distinguish Scandinavian crime writers—there are a lot of them, and their names have consonant clusters and umlauts and all that jazz—but Jussi Adler-Olsen is a name to know. In a crowded genre, Adler-Olsen is an outlier.”—GQ.com \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“If you like the dark humor, wisecracking, and layered betrayals of Raymond Chandler, then read Adler-Olsen’s Department Q series.”—\u003ci\u003eMen's Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Thrilling, clever, and driven by a rough-hewn protagonist.”—\u003ci\u003ePaste Magazine\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A tense, pleasurable read.”—\u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[A] sordid tale… inspired by actual events during a dark period of Danish history. Ah, but there is more, so much more in this frenzied thriller.”—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Adler-Olsen merges story lines...with ingenious aplomb, effortlessly mixing hilarities with horrors...This crime fiction tour de force could only have been devised by an author who can even turn stomach flu into a belly laugh.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This series has enough twists to captivate contemporary mystery readers and enough substance and background to entertain readers with historical and literary tastes.”—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“When your series relies on cold cases, it’s not always easy to craft plots that have both historical interest and an air of urgency, but it’s something Adler-Olsen is very good at.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eJussi Adler-Olsen \u003c\/b\u003eis Denmark’s #1 crime writer and a \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author. His books, including the Department Q series, routinely top the bestseller lists in Europe and have sold more than fifteen million copies around the world. His many prestigious Nordic crime-writing awards include the Glass Key Award, also won by Henning Mankell, Jo Nesbø, Stieg Larsson, and Peter Høeg.1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Tuesday, April 26th, 2016\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As always, her face bore traces of the night before. Her skin was      dry and the dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than      they'd been when she went to bed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Denise sneered at her reflection in the mirror. She had now spent      an hour on damage control, but it was never good enough.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You look and smell like a hooker,\" she said, mimicking her      grandmother's voice as she applied her eyeliner one more time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In the studio apartments around her, the noise signaled that the      other tenants were waking up and that it would soon be evening      again. It was a well-known cacophony of sounds: the chinking of      bottles, the knocking on doors to bum cigarettes, and the constant      traffic to and from the run-down toilet with shower that the      contract described as exclusive.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The small society of Danish outcasts from one of the darker      streets of Frederiksstaden was now set in motion for yet another      evening with no real purpose.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e After turning around a few times, she stepped toward the mirror to      inspect her face close-up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?\" She      laughed with an indulgent smile as she caressed her reflection      with her fingertips. She puckered her lips, let her fingers slide      up her hips, over her breasts, up to her neck, and into her hair.      She picked some fluff from her angora blouse and dabbed a little      foundation on a couple of insufficiently covered blemishes on her      face before stepping back with satisfaction. Her plucked and      painted eyebrows together with NeuLash-enhanced eyelashes added to      her overall appearance. The makeup, together with the glow of her      irises, gave her a more intense look, adding with ease an extra      element of aloofness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In other words, she was ready to take on the world.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm Denise,\" she practiced saying, tensing her throat. It was as      deep as her voice could be.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Denise,\" she whispered, slowly parting her lips and letting her      chin drop toward her chest. The result was fantastic when she      adopted this attitude. Some might interpret her look as      submissive, but it was exactly the opposite. Wasn't it precisely      at this angle that the hotspots-a woman's eyelashes and      pupils-best caught the attention of those around her?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Totally in control. She nodded, screwing the lid of her face cream      back on and piling her arsenal of cosmetics back in the bathroom      cabinet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e After a quick look around the small room she realized that hours      of hard work lay ahead of her: clearing away the laundry, making      the bed, washing all the glasses, taking out the trash, and      sorting all the bottles.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Fuck it, she thought, grabbing the duvet and shaking it and      plumping the pillow, convincing herself that when one of her sugar      daddies had made it this far, he wouldn't give a damn about the      rest.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She sat on the edge of the bed and checked that her handbag had      all the essentials she would need.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She nodded with satisfaction. She was ready to take on the world      and all its desires.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e An unwelcome sound made her turn to face the door. Click, clack,      click, clack, came the limping, loathsome sound.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e You're far too early, Mother, she thought as the door outside      between the stairs and the corridor was pushed open.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was almost eight o'clock, so why was she coming now? It was way      past her dinnertime.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She counted the seconds, already feeling irritated as she got up      from the bed, when the knock came at the door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Honey!\" she heard her mother shouting from the other side. \"Won't      you open the door?\" Denise took deep breaths, remaining silent. If      she didn't answer, her mother would surely just go.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Denise, I know you're in there. Open up just for a moment. I have      something important to tell you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Denise sighed. \"And why should I do that? I don't suppose you      brought any dinner up with you?\" she shouted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Not today, no. Oh, won't you come downstairs to eat, Denise? Just      for today. Your grandmother is here!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Denise rolled her eyes. So her grandmother was downstairs. The      mere thought was enough to make her heart race and cause her to      break out in a sweat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Grandmother can kiss my ass. I hate that bitch.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, Denise, you mustn't talk like that. Won't you just let me in      for a moment? I really must speak with you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Not now. Just leave the dinner in front of the door, as usual.\"      Apart from the man with the flabby skin who lived a few doors down      the corridor, who had already downed his first beer of the day and      was now sobbing in despair over his miserable existence, it was      suddenly totally quiet out in the corridor. It wouldn't surprise      her if everyone was pricking up their ears right at this moment,      but what did she care? They could just ignore her mother like she      did.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Denise filtered out the sound of her mother's pleas, concentrating      instead on the whining coming from the loser down the hall. All      the divorced men like him living in studio apartments were just so      pathetic and laughable. How could they believe the future might be      brighter given how they looked? They stank of unwashed clothes and      drank themselves into oblivion in their pitiful loneliness. How      could these cringeworthy idiots live with being so pathetic?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Denise snorted. How often had they stood in front of her door in      an effort to tempt her with their small talk and cheap wine from      Aldi, their eyes betraying hope of something else and more?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As if she would ever associate with men who lived in studio      apartments.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"She's brought money with her for us, Denise,\" her mother said      insistently.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Now she had Denise's attention.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You simply have to come down with me because if you don't she      won't give us anything for this month.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There was a pause before she spoke again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"And then we really won't have anything, will we, Denise?\" she      said severely.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Can't you shout a little louder so they can also hear you in the      next building?\" Denise retorted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Denise!\" Her mother's voice was now quivering. \"I'm warning you.      If your grandmother doesn't give us that money, you'll have to go      to the social services office because I haven't paid your rent for      this month. Or maybe you thought I had?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Denise took a deep breath, went over to the mirror, and put on her      lipstick one final time. Ten minutes with the woman and then she      was out of there. She had nothing but shit and confrontation      coming her way. The bitch wouldn't leave her in peace for a      second. She would just come with demand after demand. And if there      was something Denise couldn't deal with, it was all the demands      people put on her. It simply drained all the life and energy out      of her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It depleted her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Down on the first floor in her motherÕs apartment there was a not      unexpected stench of tinned mock turtle soup. Once in a while it      might be cutlets only just past their sell-by date or rice pudding      in sausage-shaped plastic packaging. There wasnÕt exactly      entrec™te on the menu when her mother attempted to put on a      spread, which the blemished silver-plated candlesticks with      spluttering candles emphasized.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In this flickering artificial ambience the vulture was already      seated at the center of the table, scowling and ready to attack.      Denise was almost knocked out from the stench of her cheap perfume      and powder, which no shop with any self-respect would demean      itself to sell.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Now her grandmother parted her dry, red, blotchy lips. Maybe the      vulture was preparing to smile, but Denise was not so easily      fooled. She attempted to count to ten but this time made it to      only three before the woman's verbal abuse began.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Well! The little princess could finally find time to come down      and say hello.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A dark and disapproving look came over the grandmother's face      after a quick inspection of Denise's seminude midriff.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Already plastered with makeup and I don't know what. No one will      miss you coming, because that really would be a catastrophe,      wouldn't it, Dorrit?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Would you stop calling me that? It's almost ten years since I      changed my name.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Since you ask so politely, yes, as it isn't something one is      accustomed to from you. Then you think that name becomes you      better, do you . . . Denise? A little more French. It almost puts      one in mind of the suggestively dressed ladies of the night, so,      yes, maybe it is more fitting.\" She looked her up and down. \"Then      congratulations with the camouflage work, is all I can say. You've      prepared yourself for the hunt, I wouldn't wonder.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Denise noticed how her mother tried to calm the mood with a slight      touch of her hand on her grandmother's arm, as if that had ever      worked. Even in that area her mother had always been weak.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"And what have you been up to, if one might inquire?\" continued      her grandmother. \"There was something about a new course, or was      it actually an internship?\" She squinted. \"Was it a job as a nail      technician you wanted to try this time? I almost can't keep up      with all the excitement in your life, so you'll have to help me.      But wait, maybe you're not actually doing anything at the moment?      Could that be it?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Denise didn't answer. She just tried to keep her lips sealed. Her      grandmother raised her eyebrows. \"Oh yes, you're much too precious      for work, aren't you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Why did she bother asking when she had all the answers? Why was      she sitting there hiding behind her wiry grey hair in a mask of      disgust? It made you want to spit at her. What stopped her from      doing it?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Denise has decided to enroll in a course to learn how to coach      people,\" interjected her mother bravely.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The metamorphosis was enormous. Her grandmother's mouth was open,      aghast; the wrinkles on her nose disappeared; and after a short      pause the change was accompanied by a laugh that came so deep from      within her rotten core that it made the hair on Denise's neck      stand on end.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, that's what she's decided, is it? An interesting thought,      Denise coaching other people. Just in what, exactly, if I might      inquire? Is it actually possible to find anyone in this disturbed      world who would want to be coached by someone who can do      absolutely nothing besides dolling themselves up? In that case,      the world must have come to a complete standstill.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mother-\" Denise's mother attempted to interrupt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Be quiet, Birgit. Let me finish.\" She turned toward Denise. \"I      will be direct. I don't know anyone as lazy, talentless, or with      so little sense of reality as you, Denise. Shall we agree that you      actually can't do anything? Isn't it high time that you tried to      get a job to fit your modest talents?\" She waited for an answer,      but none was forthcoming. She shook her head, leaving Denise in no      doubt as to what was coming next.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I have said it before and I have warned you, Denise. Maybe you      think it is acceptable to just lie on your back? It's downright      shocking. You're not as beautiful as you think, my dear, and      certainly won't be in five years, I'm afraid.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Denise inhaled deeply through her nose. Two more minutes and she'd      be out of here.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Now her grandmother turned to her mother with the same cold,      contemptuous expression. \"You were the same, Birgit. Thought only      of yourself, never doing anything to get on in life. What would      you have done without your father and me? If we hadn't paid for      everything while you squandered life away in your self-obsessed      megalomania?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I have worked, Mother.\" Her tone was pitiable. It was years since      her ammunition of protests hadn't fallen on deaf ears.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was now Denise's turn again, as her grandmother turned her      attention back toward her, shaking her head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"And as for you! You couldn't even get a job folding clothes, if      that's what you think.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Denise turned around and disappeared into the kitchen with the      poison from her grandmother trailing behind her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e If it was possible to see what was inside her grandmother, the      ingredients could be laid out in equal measure of intense hatred,      vengeance, and unending images of how different she thought      everything had once been. Denise had heard the same fake nonsense      over and over, and it was irritatingly hurtful every time. About      what a good family she and her mother came from; about the golden      years when her grandfather had had his shoe shop in R¿dovre and      earned really good money.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e All a load of crap! Hadn't the women in this family always stayed      at home and done their duty? Hadn't they been supported solely by      their husbands, been meticulous about their appearance, and looked      after the home?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hell yes!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mother! You mustn't be too hard on her. She-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Denise is twenty-seven and is good for exactly nothing, Birgit.      Nothing!\" shouted the witch. \"How do you two propose to survive      when I'm not here anymore, can you answer me that? Don't for one      second expect any significant inheritance from me. I have my own      needs.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Something else they had heard a hundred times before. In a moment      she would attack Denise's mother again. She would call her shabby      and a failure, before accusing her of passing on all her negative      qualities to her granddaughter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Denise felt disgust and hatred right to the pit of her stomach.      She hated the shrill voice, attacks, and demands. Hated her mother      for being so weak and for not having been able to keep a man who      could look after them all. Hated her grandmother precisely because      that was what she had done.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Why wouldn't she just lie down and die?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm out of here,\" said Denise coldly when she stepped back into      the dining room.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, are you, now? Well then, you won't be having this.\" Her      grandmother pulled a bundle of notes from her handbag and held it      in front of them. One-thousand-kroner notes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Come and sit down now, Denise,\" her mother implored.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes, come and sit down for a moment before you go out and sell      yourself,\" came the next tirade from her grandmother. \"Eat your      mother's awful meal before you head out to find men to ply you      with booze. But be careful, Denise, because the way you are,      you'll never find a decent man who'll go for you! A cheap girl      with fake hair and hair color, fake breasts, fake jewelry, and bad      skin. Don't you think they'll see through you in a second, my      dear? Or maybe you think a decent man can't tell the difference      between elegance and your cheap appearance? Maybe you don't think      that as soon as you open your bloodred mouth that he'll      immediately discover that you know absolutely nothing and have      nothing to say? That you're just a waste of space?\"","brand":"Dutton","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304112345317,"sku":"NP9781101984239","price":22.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781101984239.jpg?v=1767741351","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-scarred-woman-isbn-9781101984239","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}