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Zusatztext “Roberts is indeed a word artist! painting her story and characters with vitality and verve.” — Daily News of Los Angeles Informationen zum Autor Nora Roberts is the author of more than 215 novels including several #1 New York Times bestsellers, with more than 500 million copies of her books in print. She lives in Maryland. Klappentext Combining explosive suspense with sensual passion, Nora Roberts turns up the heat in this classic tale-the sizzling story of a man and woman on the trail of a demented killer, a search that will plunge them headlong into danger.... In the lazy days of summer, a merciless heat wave is the biggest story in Washington, D.C. But the weather is knocked off the front pages when a young woman is found strangled to death. A note left behind reads Her sins are forgiven her. Two more victims soon follow, and suddenly every headline is devoted to the killer the press has dubbed "the Priest." When the police ask top-notch psychiatrist Dr. Tess Court to help with their investigation, she comes up with a disturbing portrait of a twisted soul. Detective Ben Paris doesn't give a damn about the killer's psyche. What he can't easily dismiss is Tess. Tall, dark, and good-looking, Ben has a legendary reputation with women, but the coolly elegant Tess doesn't react to him like other women he's known - and he finds the challenge enticing. Now, as the two are thrown together in a perilous quest to stop a serial killer, the flame of white-hot passion flares. But someone also has his eyes on the beautiful blond doctor ... and Ben can only pray that if the madman strikes, he'll be able to stop him before it's too late....August fifteenth. It was a day following other days of sweat and hazy skies. There were no puffy white clouds or balmy breezes, only a wall of humidity nearly thick enough to swim in. Reports on the six and eleven o’clock news glumly promised more to come. In the long, lazy last days of summer, the heat wave moving into its second, pitiless week was the biggest story in Washington, D.C. The Senate was adjourned until September, so Capitol Hill moved sluggishly. Relaxing before a much touted European trip, the President cooled off at Camp David. Without the day-to-day shuffle of politics, Washington was a city of tourists and street vendors. Across from the Smithsonian, a mime performed for a sticky crowd that had stopped more to catch its collective breath than in appreciation of art. Pretty summer dresses wilted, and children whined for ice cream. The young and the old flocked to Rock Creek Park, using the shade and water as a defense against the heat. Soft drinks and lemonade were consumed by the gallon, beer and wine downed in the same quantity, but less conspicuously. Bottles had a way of disappearing when park police cruised by. During picnics and cookouts people mopped sweat, charred hot dogs, and watched babies in diapers toddle on the grass. Mothers shouted at children to stay away from the water, not to run near the road, to put down a stick or a stone. The music from portable radios was, as usual, loud and defiant; hot tracks, the deejays called them, and reported temperatures in the high nineties. Small groups of students drew together, some sitting on the rocks above the creek to discuss the fate of the world, others sprawled on the grass, more interested in the fate of their tans. Those who could spare the time and the gas had fled to the beach or the mountains. A few college students found the energy to throw Frisbees, the men stripping down to shorts to show off torsos uniformly bronzed. A pretty young artist sat under a tree and sketched idly. After several attempts to draw her attention to the biceps he’d been working on for six months, one of the players took a more obvious route. The Frisbee landed on her pad with a ...
