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Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Contents
  4. Prologue
  5. Part 1 - Thursday
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Part 2 - Friday
  13. Chapter Seven
  14. Chapter Eight
  15. Chapter Nine
  16. Chapter Ten
  17. Chapter Eleven
  18. Chapter Twelve
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Part 3 - Saturday
  21. Chapter Fourteen
  22. Chapter Fifteen
  23. Chapter Sixteen
  24. Chapter Seventeen
  25. Chapter Eighteen
  26. Chapter Nineteen
  27. Chapter Twenty
  28. Chapter Twenty-One
  29. Chapter Twenty-Two
  30. Chapter Twenty-Three
  31. Chapter Twenty-Four
  32. Part 4 - Sunday
  33. Chapter Twenty-Five
  34. Chapter Twenty-Six
  35. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  36. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  37. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  38. Chapter Thirty
  39. Chapter Thirty-One
  40. Chapter Thirty-Two
  41. Chapter Thirty-Three
  42. Chapter Thirty-Four
  43. Part 5 - Monday
  44. Chapter Thirty-Five
  45. Chapter Thirty-Six
  46. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  47. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  48. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  49. Chapter Forty
  50. Chapter Forty-One
  51. Chapter Forty-Two
  52. Chapter Forty-Three
  53. Chapter Forty-Four
  54. Chapter Forty-Five
  55. Epilogue
  56. Author’s Note and Acknowledgments
  57. Lisa Gardner on D.D. Warren
  58. Excerpt from Love You More
  59. Get an exclusive peek at the script for AMC’s addictive new series, The Killing. Premiering Sunday, April 3 at 9/8c. Only on AMC.
  60. About the Author
  61. Copyright

D.D. Warren really exists. When I first named the hardened Boston detective in my 2005 novel, Alone, after a family friend, I wasn’t thinking additional novels or potential series character. I was thinking I needed a city cop for a single murder scene that fell in Boston jurisdiction. I liked the idea of a tough female who’d give my sniper hero, Bobby Dodge, a run for his money. I added stilettos, a killer leather jacket and next thing I knew, Sergeant Detective D.D. Warren took on a life of her own.

Turns out, she loves to eat, mostly because her job doesn’t leave her any time for sex. She doesn’t have pets, doesn’t trust herself with plants, and considers her three-man homicide squad to be her primary family. She’s not exactly a people-person, but she’s a first crack detective who, over the years, has handled the murder investigation of six girls, the disappearance of a South Boston wife, and a string of family annihilations that has left eleven people dead.

Which is funny, as the real D.D. Warren is known for her lush garden, her scrumptious baking skills, and her generous spirit. On the other hand, she is blonde, beautiful, and brilliant, so I like to think fictional D.D. Warren would be proud of her. She also has a great selection of shoes.

I gave my fictional character a friend’s real name because I like to do that kind of thing. My books are generally populated with old high school chums, various long lost relatives, and of course, the annual winners of my Kill a Friend, Maim a Buddy Sweepstakes (www.LisaGardner.com). It takes a lot of bodies to populate a busy suspense novel, and I can’t spend that much time creating new names. My brain is occupied by other Important Ideas, like how to kill them all off.

Which is how happy homemaker D.D. Warren became tough Boston Detective D.D. Warren, due to next save the city in my March 2011 release Love You More. It’s very satisfying when a character surprises me. And it’s very gratifying to have such an understanding friend.

Lisa Gardner 21
February 2010

Excerpt from Love You More

Read on for a preview from Lisa Gardner’s upcoming novel

LOVE YOU MORE

Available March 2011

PROLOGUE

Who do you love?

It’s a question anyone should be able to answer. A question that defines a life, creates a future, guides most minutes of one’s days. Simple, elegant, encompassing.

Who do you love?

He asked the question, and I felt the answer in the weight of my duty belt, the constrictive confines of my armored vest, the tight brim of my trooper’s hat, pulled low over my brow. I reached down slowly, my fingers just brushing the top of my Sig Sauer, holstered at my hip.

“Who do you love?” he cried again, louder now, more insistent.