… We’ll have a few hours before the airport, Regi … Yeah, it’d be great …
INT. SEATTLE PD - SARAH’S OFFICE - DAY
Musty and cramped, mismatched steel filing cabinets, Sarah, in sweater and jeans, tosses manila FOLDERS into cardboard boxes, chewing gum, mid-convo on her cell phone—
SARAH
… To take Jack out on the water—
Her office door bangs opens, revealing Det. STEPHEN HOLDER — 30, ex-narc, dark circles under his eyes. Startled as she—
HOLDER
(overlapping)
Ahh, this is a bad door. Sorry, what … what are you doing here—
SARAH
(overlapping)
A who … Can I help you—?
HOLDER
Yeah, this is my office—
SARAH
Who are you—?
HOLDER
I’m Holder, from County. You Linden?
REGI (O.S.)
(from phone)
Sar? You there …?
SARAH
(into phone)
Yeah, I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight, Regi.
Sarah hangs up, takes him in: cardboard BOX in his arms. Fish out of water in his Fubu and baggy jeans. Amused—
SARAH (CONT’D)
Yeah. I’m Linden.
HOLDER
I thought you’d be outta here by now. But if you need more time, I can wait outside.
SARAH
No, it’s okay. No, no, come on in. I’m almost done.
Not much room to navigate. He drops his box on the desk, knocking over her box, spilling files everywhere.
HOLDER
Damn it—
SARAH
It’s okay, I got it.
Holder tries to help, making more of a mess.
HOLDER
My bad, my bad.
Hold picks up the box, she takes it.
HOLDER (CONT’D)
Here.
He moves to the other side of the desk. Starts unpacking his own box.
HOLDER (CONT’D)
So, I hear you’re moving to LA.
SARAH
San Francisco area.
HOLDER
Oakland?
SARAH
Sonoma.
HOLDER
Sonoma. It’s nice.
SARAH
Yup.
Beat. She continues to clean up, not interested in engaging.
HOLDER
Nice weather. Ocean. The beaches … Hate that shit.
Holder shoots a ball into a hoop/trash can. Sarah smiles grudgingly.
SARAH
You must love this place then.
HOLDER
Ouch.
He’s glancing at one of Sarah’s files. CLOSE ON gruesome crime scene PHOTO of an ADDICT — white, trashy, fatty (think Courtney Love) — cut ear to ear. Beneath, a SKETCH: a lonely grove of trees on the sand. Beautiful.
HOLDER (CONT’D)
Crack head thought she was Picasso?
SARAH
Crack head’s six year old son drew it.
HOLDER
He get iced, too?
SARAH
No.
Sarah takes the sketch. Puts it away. Holder waits for more. None coming. Fort Knox this woman.
HOLDER
So what happened to the kid—?
LT. OAKES — 50s, soft touch for Sarah — enters.
OAKES
Don’t waste your time moving in, do ya?
HOLDER
No. County cut me loose early. So, I …
OAKES
Well, you got a tough act to follow. You wrapped up here, Sarah?
SARAH
Yup. All done.
Oakes hands her a PAPER.
OAKES
Good. Got a call down at Discovery Park. Check it out.
SARAH
On my last day? My flights tonight—
OAKES
You’re still on the city’s dime.
(off her look)
You can hand it off end of shift. Six o’clock. Go on do your job. Take him. Show him how to work a scene.
HOLDER
(quietly)
I know how to work a scene …
Reluctantly, Sarah grabs her coat and a box—
SARAH
Grab a box. We’ll take my car.
HOLDER
Alright.
SARAH
(indicating a nearby box)
Over there.
As Sarah and Holder exit, boxes in tow, Holder shuts the door with his foot.
EXT. DOWNTOWN SEATTLE - AERIAL SHOT - DAY
Transition.
INT/EXT. SARAH’S CAR - DAY
Sarah drives, Holder yaks. Wipers flipping across the rain-soaked windshield. Squat factories — abandoned, graffii-marred — slide past their windows.
HOLDER
… They tapped me out of the Academy like first year, boom straight to
(MORE)
HOLDER (CONT’D)
undercover. So I was working vice, narco. I don’t know, I guess narco kinda stuck to me, so …
SARAH
(no shit)
You? A UC? I never woulda guessed.
Holder shoots her an amused look.
HOLDER
Whatever. It’s mostly like street level buys and busts, you know, Joaquim shooting Rakim, blah blah blah.
SARAH
You think Homicide’s gonna be any different?
HOLDER
Least you got a bad guy.
SARAH
Yeah? Who’s that?
Holder looks at her, waiting for more. No luck. They stop at a light.
On the sidewalk, a TEEN RUNAWAY — 16, male, filthy dreads, kindly face — slouches numbly against a monstrous duffel bag. Rain drizzling down.
Holder presses two fingers against the glass: “Peace”. The Teen Runaway lazily sticks up his middle finger: “Fuck you”.
Holder grins, gives him the finger back. As they pull away—
HOLDER
Is that why you running away, Linden? Cuz you don’t know no more?
She doesn’t even look at him. Off which—
EXT. SEATTLE - AERIAL SHOT FROM A DISTANCE - DAY
Transition.
EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - FIELD - DAY
Sarah drives down the fire road, pulling up to the scene. A scattering of UNIFORMS in a desolate field, woods in the near distance, lonely fire road. Rain abated for now.
Exiting their car, Sarah and Holder make there way to the scene and are approached by a young, UNIFORM in charge—
UNIFORM
Detective Linden …
SARAH
Where’s the body?
UNIFORM
Still lookin’. School kids on a field trip this mornin’ found this.
He hands a clear Evidence BAG to Sarah — inside a shimmery pink SWEATER. Torn, blood-smeared.
HOLDER
This park’s like Tweaker Central at nights. Ho-bags bringin’ their tricks down. Could be some basehead—
SARAH
(hands the evidence bag back to the Uni)
The owner’s not an addict. At least not the kind who hangs around here.
(off Holder’s look)
It’s a wool sweater. Looks recently cleaned.
HOLDER
Brought it to the coin wash, so what.
SARAH
You dry clean wool? Do you know any tweakers who drop their wardrobe off at the cleaners?
(to uniform) Anything else?
UNIFORM
This. ATM card.
He holds out a baggie: inside, a bank CARD. Imprinted on the front: “STANLEY LARSEN”. Holder takes it—
HOLDER
‘Stanley Larsen’. Guy loses his wallet while he’s gettin’ his knob polished?
ON Sarah as she steps away from Holder and the Uni, surveys the field — taking it in.
HOLDER (O.S.) (CONT’D)
&nb
sp; (to Uni)
Anyway, keep lookin’. Search the field …
SARAH
(to Uni)
You find anything else, mark it, don’t move it. And call in Sex Crimes. This is theirs for now.
She heads to the car. Holder, surprised, follows—
HOLDER
Yo. We got here first.
SARAH
Yeah and we don’t got a body.
HOLDER
Not yet.
Sarah, impatient, checks her watch.
SARAH
You wanna follow it up, go for it.
HOLDER
You’re my ride, Linden.
SARAH
So, I’ll drop you off at the station, I need to finish packing up—
HOLDER
I thought you were done.
(off her look)
Flight’s not til nine, right? I won’t let you miss it. Promise.
Holder grins, walks ahead.
HOLDER (CONT’D)
Let’s have a talk with this Stanley Larsen.
Sarah clocks something on the back of his neck, peeking above his collar: a TATTOO. The top of an ornate CRUCIFIX. Sarah, curious, follows.
AUTHOR’S NOTE AND
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With all due respect to Detective D. D. Warren, my favorite part of embarking on a new novel isn’t spending time with old characters, but rather, researching new and inventive ways to commit murder and mayhem. Oh, and, um, also spending quality time with law enforcement professionals who remind me why a life of crime really isn’t a good idea, and thus I should continue to hope the whole writing gig pans out.
For Love You More, I got to fulfill one of my lifelong dreams of conducting research at the University of Tennessee Anthropology Research Facility, aka the Body Farm. I am deeply indebted to Dr. Lee Jantz, who is one of the smartest people I know, working one of the coolest jobs on the planet. She can look at a pile of cremated bones and tell you within thirty seconds pretty much everything about the person, including gender, age, chronic health issues, and what kind of dental floss he/she used. I had many moments with Dr. Jantz I would’ve liked to have put in the novel, but I didn’t think anyone would believe me.
Readers interested in morbid things like decomp, identifying skeletal remains, and post-mortem insect activity should absolutely check out Death’s Acre, by Dr. Bill Bass, creator of the Body Farm, and coauthor Jon Jefferson. You can also visit my Facebook page for photos from my very informative research trip.
Oh, this is the part where I add anthropologists are trained professionals, whereas I just type for a living, meaning all mistakes in the novel are mine and mine alone. Plus, just as an FYI, I would never accuse Dr. Jantz, who has a T-shirt reading Don’t piss me off—I’m running out of places to hide the bodies, of having made a mistake.
I am also deeply indebted to Cassondra Murray, Southern/Western Kentucky Canine Rescue & Recovery Task Force, for her insights into training cadaver dogs and life as a volunteer dog handler. I had no idea that most canine SAR teams are volunteer organizations. These groups and their dogs do amazing work, and we are indebted to them for their hard work, dedication, and sacrifice.
Again, all mistakes are mine, so don’t even think about it!
Next up: Officer Penny Frechette, as well as several other female police officers who preferred to remain off the record. I appreciate the time and candor shared by these women, and enjoyed my first ride-along in a police cruiser. I was nervous! She was not. For those of you into police procedure, my character Tessa Leoni’s experiences are an amalgamation of different jurisdictions, and not necessarily representative of the life of a Massachusetts State Trooper. The Massachusetts State Police is a fine, upstanding organization and I appreciate their patience with suspense authors who exercise plenty of fictional license.
Under other nerve-wracking and noteworthy experiences, I must thank Superintendent Gerard Horgan, Esquire, and Assistant Deputy Superintendent Brian Dacey, both of the Suffolk County Sheriff’s Department for a fun-filled day at the Suffolk County Jail. It’s not every day I drive all the way to Boston just to be incarcerated, but boy did I learn a lot (basically, stick to writing fictional crimes, because let me tell you, I wouldn’t last a day behind bars). They showed me a first-class operation. I, of course, used the facility for yet more murder and mayhem, because hey, that’s what I do best.
Also, my deepest appreciation to Wayne Rock, Esquire, for legal advice and various insights into the BPD. A retired Boston detective, Wayne is always very patient when answering my questions and no longer seems startled when I lead with things like, So I want to kill a guy but not have it be my fault. What’s my best option? Thank you, Wayne!
I am also indebted to Scott Hale, third generation merchant mariner, for his insights into the life. He agreed to help me out, even after knowing I was going to kill the merchant marine character. Thanks, Scott!
And wrapping things up in the research department, my endless gratitude to gifted doctor and fellow suspense author C. J. Lyons for her medical expertise. Let’s face it, not just anyone will respond to e-mails with subject headings such as “Need Advice for Maiming.” Thanks, C.J.!
Since writing novels isn’t all touring jails and hanging out with cops, I must also thank David J. Hallett and Scott C. Ferrari, who outbid all rivals with a generous donation to our local animal shelter, for the right to include their Soft Coated Wheaten Terriers Skyler and Kelli in the novel. I hope you enjoy Skyler and Kelli’s star-making turn, and thanks for supporting our local shelter.
I couldn’t let animals have all the fun. Congrats to Heather Blood, winner of the 6th Annual Kill a Friend, Maim a Buddy Sweepstakes, who nominated Erica Reed to die. Also, Canadian Donna Watters for winning the international edition, Kill a Friend, Maim a Mate. She sacrificed her sister, Kim Watters, for a grand end.
I hope you enjoyed your literary immortality. And for those of you hoping to get in on the action, please check out www.LisaGardner.com.
Of course, I couldn’t do this without my family. From my own darling child, who quizzed me every day on whether I had saved the little girl yet, to my extremely patient husband, who’s gotten so used to having a wife who takes off for prison, he doesn’t even ask what time I’ll be home anymore. That’s love, I tell you.
Finally, for Team Gardner. My supportive agent, Meg Ruley; my brilliant editor, Kate Miciak; and my entire Random House publishing team. You have no idea how many talented and hardworking people it takes to produce a novel. I am indebted to each and every one. Thanks for being on my side, and helping to make the magic happen.
This book is dedicated in loving memory to Uncle Darrell and Aunt Donna Holloway, who taught us laughter, love and, of course, cribbage strategy.
Also, to Richard Myles, aka Uncle Dick, whose love of great books, beautiful gardens, and a good Manhattan will not be forgotten.
We love you, and we remember.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LISA GARDNER is the New York Times bestselling author of thirteen novels. Her Detective D. D. Warren novels include Love You More, Live to Tell, The Neighbor, Hide, and Alone. Her FBI Profiler novels include Say Goodbye, Gone, The Killing Hour, The Next Accident, and The Third Victim. She lives with her family in New England, where she is at work on her next novel.