FLESH AND BLOOD.
Langue : anglais
Edité par Random House, New York, 2001
- Éd. originale
- Livre relié
- Occasion
Vendeur : Bookfever, IOBA (Volk & Iiams), Ione, CA, Etats-UnisBookfever, IOBA (Volk & Iiams)
Vendeur AbeBooks depuis 6 novembre 1997
Etat: Occasion - Assez bon
EUR 15,59
Quantité disponible : 1 disponible
Ajouter au panierA propos de cet article
First printing. A thriller featuring psychologist sleuth Alex Delaware. 371 pp. Very good in a very good dust jacket. (gift inscription, slight spine slant, price-clipped.).
N° de réf. du vendeur 44074
- Titre
- FLESH AND BLOOD.
- Auteur
- Kellerman, Jonathan.
- Éditeur
- Random House, New York
- Année de publication
- 2001
- État de l'article
- VERY GOOD
- Jaquette
- Jaquette
- Reliure
- Couverture rigide
- Langue
- anglais
- ISBN à 10 chiffres
- 0679459596
- ISBN à 13 chiffres
- 9780679459590
- Édition
- Edition originale
- Catalogues du vendeur
- Mystery - Suspense & Detective Fiction
« Synopsis » peut appartenir à une autre édition de cet ouvrage.
Extrait
But not what I saw tonight.
God, God . . .
I wanted to be dreaming but I was awake, smelling chili meat and onions and the pine trees.
First, 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.
Then all of a sudden, she made a weird sound--surprised, squeaky, like a cat or dog that gets stepped on.
He 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.
He kept doing it, moving his arm up and down.
I wasn't breathing. My heart was on fire. My legs were cold. Then they turned hot-wet.
Pissing my pants like a stupid baby!
The 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.
He looked all around. Then in my direction.
Could he see me, hear me--smell me?
He 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.
My stomach started to churn around, and I wanted to run so badly my leg muscles were jumping under my skin.
A breeze came through the trees, blowing up pine smell and piss stink.
Would it blow against the chili-burger's wrapping paper and make noise? Would he smell me?
He looked around some more. My stomach hurt so bad.
All of a sudden he jumped ran back to the car, got in, drove away.
I 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.
plyr 1.
The letters burned into my mind.
Why did I look?
Why?
I'm still sitting here. My Casio says 1:12 a.m.
I 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?
I 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.
My 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?
No way. Impossible.
I 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.
Who is she?--forget that, I don't want to know.
What I want is to put tonight on rewind.
That squeaky sound--like he took the air right out of her. For sure she's . . . gone. But what if she isn't?
Even 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?
What if he comes back while I'm doing it?
Would he come back? That would be stupid, but there are always surprises. She sure found that out.
I can't help her. I have to put this all out of my mind.
I'll sit here for ten more minutes--no, fifteen. Twenty. Then I'll get my Place Two stuff together and move.
Where 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.
But it's also the hardest one to find.
Okay, 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.
Meantime, I sit here and wait.
Pray.
Our Father in heaven, how about no more surprises?
Not 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.
Then I get worried that I'm blaspheming.
Maybe 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.
Maybe God saved me tonight, putting me behind the rocks, instead of out in the open.
But if he had seen me when he drove up, he probably would've changed his mind and not done anything to her.
So did God want her to . . .
No, he just would've gone somewhere else to do it . . . whatever.
In case You saved me, thank You, God.
In case You're up there, do You have a plan for me?
« A propos de ce titre » peut appartenir à une autre édition de cet ouvrage.
Bookfever, IOBA (Volk & Iiams)
Ione, CA, Etats-Unis
Vendeur AbeBooks depuis 6 novembre 1997
Frais d'expédition à l'intérieur de ce pays : Etats-Unis
| Article | 5 à 13 jours ouvrés | 3 à 7 jours ouvrés |
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Bookfever.com - the name used by Volk and Iiams, Booksellers- specializes in first editions of twentieth century literature, with an emphasis on women authors, African American, Native American and Latin American authors - plus mystery & detective fiction, science fiction & fantasy, poetry and children's & illustrated books. We try to offer many uncommon books, and have a large selection of first books, and books by authors who are less frequently collected. Of the approximately 60,000 volumes in stock, the majority are hardcover first editions, although we also stock vintage science fiction paperbacks as well as sf digests and pulps. We also have a large selection of books signed by the author and uncorrected proof copies. Only about 50% of our stock is catalogued, so please inquire if you are searching for specific titles. We have been selling books by mail order and on the internet since 1993. We have a large booth dedicated to books (called Books Upstairs) at the Antiques Upstairs Mall, 5 Main Street, Jackson, CA. (open every day from 10-5) The emphasis there is on Western Americana, children¿s books and inexpensive reading copies. In 1998 we relocated our main business from Sacramento to the Sierra foothills of Amador County, about 35 miles east of downtown Sacramento and between Ione & Sutter Creek. There, on 10 acres of rolling oak-covered hills, we built a "bookhouse" for our books. Call us at 209-274-6960 or contact us by email heyyou@bookfever.com) Our web page is https://bookfever.com/ Traditional bookseller grading used - fine is our highest grade (an "A"), very good is above average (a "B), good is average (a "C"). All significant flaws are described; dust jackets are protected by archival covers, and books are packed carefully for shipping. We welcome questions by email or phone.…
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Bookfever.com is a partnership between Christine Volk and Eugene Iiams, Booksellers. Our mailing address is PO Box 696, Ione CA 95640 USA. Our store is located at 5 Main Street, Jackson, CA 95642 USA. Email: chris@bookfever.com. Phone: 209-274-6960. We accept Mastercard, Visa AMEX, Discover, checks or Paypal, whichever is most convenient for customers. Please contact us if you have any questions, or want to confirm availability. All dustjackets are in archival mylar covers, and books are packed carefully for shipping. If you are not satisfied with your purchase, books in same condition as shipped may be returned for any reason within 10 days (please notify us first for approval.) Member of IOBA, NCIBA. Booksellers since 1993, on ABE since 1997! Libraries and other institutions may be invoiced, upon request. Reciprocal courtesy trade discounts extended and institutional discounts offered. Sales tax is charged on orders shipped to California addresses.
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