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The night season / Chelsea Cain.

By: Cain, Chelsea.
Material type: TextTextSeries: Cain, Chelsea. Archie Sheridan: bk. 4.; Cain, Chelsea. Archie Sheridan/Gretchen Lowell novel: 4.Archie and Gretchen: 4.Publisher: New York : Minotaur Books, 2011Description: 322 pages : map ; 25 cm.Content type: text Media type: unmediated Carrier type: volumeISBN: 9780312619763 (hbk.).Subject(s): Sheridan, Archie (Fictitious character) -- Fiction | Police -- Oregon -- Portland -- Fiction | Ward, Susan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction | Women journalists -- Fiction | Serial murderers -- Fiction | Portland (Or.) -- FictionGenre/Form: Detective and mystery fiction. DDC classification: [Fic] Summary: River levels are high in Portland when a woman walking her dog comes across the skeleton of a young black man, murdered over sixty years ago. Journalist, Susan Ward investigates. Meanwhile, Detective Archie Sheridan and his team have turned their attention to child-killer Ryan Motley, trained by the notorious Gretchen Lowell. The task force must pursue a series of mysterious clues from Gretchen, one of which leads to a Vanport flood survivor, who happens to be the grandfather of a murdered child. Then, when another child is found murdered, Archie's investigation takes on a new urgency.
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Item type Current location Collection Call number Copy number Status Date due Barcode Item holds
Fiction Davis (Central) Library
Fiction Collection
Fiction Collection CAI 1 Available T00536794
Total holds: 0

Enhanced descriptions from Syndetics:

<p>With the Beauty Killer Gretchen Lowell locked away behind bars once again, Archie Sheridan--a Portland police detective and nearly one of her victims--can finally rest a little easier. Meanwhile, the rest of the city of Portland is in crisis. Heavy rains have flooded the Willamette River, and several people have drowned in the quickly rising waters. Or at least that's what they thought until the medical examiner discovers that the latest victim didn't drown: She was poisoned before she went into the water. Soon after, three of those drownings are also proven to be murders. Portland has a new serial killer on its hands, and Archie and his task force have a new case.</p> <p>Reporter Susan Ward is chasing this story of a new serial killer with gusto, but she's also got another lead to follow for an entirely separate mystery: The flooding has unearthed a skeleton, a man who might have died more than sixty years ago, the last time Portland flooded this badly, when the water washed away an entire neighborhood and killed at least fifteen people.</p> <p>With Archie following the bizarre trail of evidence and evil deeds to catch a killer and possibly regain his life, and Susan Ward close behind, Chelsea Cain--one of today's most talented suspense writers--launches the next installment of her bestselling series with an electric thriller.</p>

River levels are high in Portland when a woman walking her dog comes across the skeleton of a young black man, murdered over sixty years ago. Journalist, Susan Ward investigates. Meanwhile, Detective Archie Sheridan and his team have turned their attention to child-killer Ryan Motley, trained by the notorious Gretchen Lowell. The task force must pursue a series of mysterious clues from Gretchen, one of which leads to a Vanport flood survivor, who happens to be the grandfather of a murdered child. Then, when another child is found murdered, Archie's investigation takes on a new urgency.

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Excerpt provided by Syndetics

<opt> <anon I1="BLANK" I2="BLANK">Chapter One Present day Technically, the park was closed. But Laura knew a place where the wire fence was split, and she had let the Aussies through and then climbed over behind them. It looked like a pond. There was, in fact, no place muddier in the winter in Portland, Oregon, than West Delta Dog Park, and that was saying something. The dogs ran ahead of her in the standing water, splashing it behind them, already matted with wet dirt and dead grass. Occasion­ally they turned to look back at her, their warm breath condensing in the January air. Laura wiped her nose with the back of her hand. It was a terrible day to be out. Her rain pants were slick with rain, her trail runners were soaked. She'd spent the early morning sandbagging downtown and her back ached. The stress fracture in her foot stung. Stay off it for six weeks, the doctors had said. As if. The cloud cover hung so low that the tops of the trees seemed to brush it. She loved this. The worst weather, body aching. Nothing could keep her in­side. Biking. Running. Walking the dogs. She was out there every day, no matter what. Not like all those poseurs who came out in the summer in their REI sun shirts and ran along the esplanade with their iPods and swinging elbows. Where were they in the dead of winter? At the gym, that's where. God, Laura hated those people. Franklin glanced back at her, wagged his stubby tail, barked once, flattened his ears, and took off across the old road to the slough. It was their usual route. Penny, the puppy, stuck closer to Laura, zipping ahead ten feet and then circling back. Laura heard it then. She had heard it all along, but it had faded to white noise, an ambient sound, like a jet passing overhead. The Columbia Slough. She knew it would be high. They'd had a ton of snow in De­cember. Then it had warmed up and started to rain. That meant snowmelt from the mountains. Lots of it. The storm drains were backed up. The Willamette was near flood stage. The local news was live with it day and night; they were considering evacuating downtown. But that was the Willamette. Miles away. As Laura rounded the corner, past the trees, where the old con­crete pavilion sat sinking into the slough bank, she was aware of her mouth opening. In the summer, the slough was still and flat, blanketed by algae so thick it looked solid enough to walk on. That slough was so stagnant that Laura was surprised anything could survive in it. That slough looked like a bucket of water that had been left on the back porch all summer. This slough was alive. It moved like something angry and afraid, churning fast and high. Whitewater swept along the bank, pulling up debris and washing it downriver. Laura saw a branch get sucked into the water and lost sight of it in an instant as it was swal­lowed by the seething froth. Franklin was up ahead, nosing along the old concrete pavilion at the slough's bank. He whined and gave her a look. She called his name and slapped her thigh. "Let's get out of here," she said. He turned to come to her. He'd been a rescue dog. Her hus­band had found him on the Internet. He'd been kept in some barn in Idaho, given little food and no human comfort. It had taken them years to teach him to trust people. And it filled Laura with pride to know that he had turned into such a good dog. Even with the noise of the slough, he'd heard her. He'd turned to come. And that's when it happened. Did he slip? Did the slough rise up suddenly and take him? She didn't know. He was looking right at her, and in a second he was gone. It took her a moment to move. And then she snapped into ac­tion. Her dog was not going to die. Not like this. She ran. She didn't think about the stress fracture. The sore back. The raging river. She ran to the edge of the bank, scanning the water for him, as Penny barked fiercely at her heels. Her heart leapt. She saw him. A glimpse--a wet mound of fur struggling in froth. He was already moving down the river, but he was alive, his black nose just above water. She had several options. Maybe if Franklin hadn't been looking her in the eye when it happened she would have considered more of them. She would have called for help, or run alongside the river, or tied a rope around her waist. She knew what happened to people who went into water after pets. They died. But Laura had seen something in Franklin's brown eyes. He'd looked right at her. "Stay," she said to Penny. And she plunged into the cold water after him. Laura's first sensation, in the rushing dirty sludge, was of not being able to breathe. She'd been hit by a car once, on her bike. It was like that. Like having all the air forced out of you by an impact of steel and concrete. Laura forced herself to take a deep breath, filling her lungs, and she tried to orient herself. Her head was above water, her wet braid around her neck. She was already turned around, already ten feet away from Penny, fifteen, twenty. The roar of the slough was unrelenting. Twigs and branches snapped against Laura's face in the current, stinging her skin. Penny stood barking at the shore, pawing at the ground. Until Laura couldn't hear her anymore. Where was Franklin? Laura struggled to see him, but at water level all she could see was more water. She was fifty feet away from Penny now. Sixty. She couldn't see. She couldn't see the shore. Just the sky, dark clouds, above her. Float. Cold water survival. You lost heat swimming. Just float. She took a deep breath and lifted her hands, already numb, foreign, like they belonged to someone else, and she spread her arms and bobbed on her back, and let the current take her. The current had taken Franklin. It would take her to him. Cold water filled her ears. They ached. Her teeth chattered, the sound lost in the roar of the slough. Her clothes felt heavy, filled with water, dragging her down. And then she heard him. Laura rolled over and used the last of her strength to fight her way through the current toward the whimper. He was there, caught against the roots of a fallen tree, the water trapping him. He saw her and his ears perked up, and his paws paddled in vain toward her. She got to him. She didn't know how. She got to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He could have fought her. Animals did that. Panicked. But he didn't. He went limp. He went limp into her arms, and she was able to use the tree as leverage and push her heels into the silt at the bottom of the slough, and she managed to somehow inch them both to the muddy riverbank. She collapsed beside him in the mud, still holding on to him, still not letting him go. Her heart was pounding. They were soaked. Franklin whined and licked her face. They'd made it. She rolled onto her back, almost giddy. They were alive. She'd like to see one of those fair- weather esplanade runners survive some­thing like this. Franklin shook the water from his mangy coat and Laura turned away, lifting a hand over her face. "Hey, boy," she said. "Easy." He growled, his upper lip tightening. He was looking at some­thing behind her. "What?" she said. Franklin's eyes narrowed, still focused over Laura's shoulder. She shivered. Whether it was from cold or fear, she didn't know. Laura turned around. In the mud of the bank, partially exposed, was a human skel­eton. NIGHT SEASON Copyright (c) 2011 by Chelsea Cain Excerpted from The Night Season by Chelsea Cain All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.</anon> </opt>

Reviews provided by Syndetics

Library Journal Review

Portland, OR, is shutting down owing to torrential rains and rising floodwaters, but Det. Archie Sheridan can't come in because the dead body count is rising quickly, too. Conventional wisdom says these are drowning victims, but when colleague Henry Sobol is felled by a toxin, we realize a serial killer has devised yet another exotic means of death. Intrepid journalist Susan Ward thinks the victims are tied to the historic floods of 1948, and when the clues fall into place, Archie realizes she's right again. Fighting the weather and a crafty killer means they have to win this one the hard way-by swimming. The team continues to be haunted by their nemesis Gretchen Lowell, the so-called Beauty Killer, but her influence is minimal in Cain's fourth Archie Sheridan novel (Heartsick; Sweetheart; Evil at Heart), and this brings a certain freshness to the story line. VERDICT Perfect for readers who want to mix true crime history with their contemporary serial killers, as in Lisa Black's Trail of Blood or Michael Harvey's The Third Rail. The pace is as relentless as the floodwaters engulfing Portland. Buy heavily and enjoy recommending this to new Cain fans. [150,000-copy first printing; library marketing.]-Teresa L. Jacobsen, Solano Cty. Lib., Fairfield, CA (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Publishers Weekly Review

If Cain's new crime novel is to be believed, you don't want to be in Portland, Ore., when the Willamette River rises over its banks. Spunky reporter Susan Ward and depressed police detective Archie Sheridan spend most of the book slogging through slush or swimming for their lives while on the track of a serial killer who uses incurable octopi toxin to dispatch his victims. Putting Archie's homicidal paramour Gretchen Lowell behind bars has allowed Cain to reinvigorate the series, which includes bringing the likable Susan to the fore. This not only makes for a snappier story, it takes advantage of Christina Delaine's inspired interpretation of the ditsy, self-effacing, surprisingly professional reporter and intuitive sleuth. Her sotto voce, monotone Archie is on the money, too. He sounds as if he's still a long way from recovering from the mental and physical damage caused by Lowell. Near the book's end, Susan is locked in the killer's basement with a dead policeman, up to her waist in river water stocked with the deadly mollusks. Author and narrator combine to make it a memorably chilling moment in one of the series' better entries. A Minotaur hardcover. (Mar.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

Booklist Review

*Starred Review* Devoted readers of Cain's superb Archie Sheridan novels, starring the Portland, Oregon, police detective, have known all along that eventually the series would have to stand on its own without the mesmerizing presence of serial killer Gretchen Lowell, with whom Archie shares the quintessential love-hate relationship. But can Cain pull it off? Yes, indeed. As the novel begins, Portland is threatened by the worst flood since 1948, when the town of Vanport, just north of the city, was wiped from the map. Cain skillfully incorporates the details of the real-life Vanport flood into her story, which centers on the murders of a random group of victims who have been bitten by a rare breed of venomous octopus. The floodwaters continue to rise as Archie and reporter Susan Ward, elevated here from scene-stealing supporting player to full-fledged costar, track the killer and a boy he has apparently kidnapped. In the earlier books, Cain pinned readers to their seats with a unique mix of horror, black humor, and psychological tension. This time she adds another arrow to her narrative quiver: the interplay between landscape and mood. This may be the best thriller set in a flooding city since Donna Leon's Acqua Alta (1996). The enveloping floodwaters are every bit as terrifying as the octopus-toting killer (many of the key action scenes take place in or under the black water), and the river itself takes on a kind of evil persona, a superhuman antagonist of unfathomable power. Who knew it would take the Willamette River to prove that Chelsea Cain doesn't need Gretchen Lowell?--Ott, Bill Copyright 2010 Booklist

Kirkus Book Review

Finally free, at least physically, of his former lover and crazed torturer, Gretchen Lowell, who's behind bars, Portland Detective Archie Sheridan vies with a slightly more mundane serial killer in Cain's latest installment in the series (Heartsick, 2007, etc.).Where do you go as a mystery writer after your beautiful, smart, cruelly amusing main attraction has pulled out all psychotic stops in making your star detective's life an unrelieved hell? Inthis volume, Cain gives Gretchen a breather and replaces her with a largely unseen male menace. Accompanied by a nine-year-old boy who was stolen from his parents 18 months ago, this serial killer carries around small, blue-ringed octopuses in baggies, subjects his victims to their poisonous bites and tosses the corpses in the river. The killings begin after the discovery of a skeleton points back to the Vanport flood of 1948, which wiped out an entire public-housing project and claimed the lives of many residents who were tardily warned by authorities of the impending disaster. Sixty-two years later, with the overflowing Willamette River about to wreak havoc on Portland, two people close to the still-shaky Sheridan are touched by the octopus killer's evil: Henry Sobol, a fellow cop, and Susan Ward, a hungry crime columnist with wild hair. Compared to the Gretchen Lowell books, there's nothing else particularly wild aboutthis novel.But the story is deftly handled, the suspense is plentiful and Cain's evocation of the gloomy atmosphere and Portland setting is superb. Gretchen fans will be pleased when she shows up at the end and with a glance tells us we haven't seen the last of her, but this novel does an excellent job of killing time until then.A strong and satisfying, if less extreme, outing from the new queen of serial-killer fiction.]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.