{"id":5884,"date":"2026-01-04T12:24:16","date_gmt":"2026-01-04T12:24:16","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/silent-partner-kellerman-jonathan\/"},"modified":"2026-01-04T12:24:16","modified_gmt":"2026-01-04T12:24:16","slug":"silent-partner-kellerman-jonathan","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/silent-partner-kellerman-jonathan\/","title":{"rendered":"Silent Partner – Kellerman, Jonathan"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

Book Preview<\/h3>\n
\n
\n

1<\/h2>\n<\/div>\n

I\u2019ve always hated parties and, under normal circumstances, never would have attended the one on Saturday.<\/p>\n

But my life was a mess. I relaxed my standards. And stepped into a nightmare.<\/p>\n

Thursday morning I was the good doctor, focusing on my patients, determined not to let my own garbage get in the way of work.<\/p>\n

I kept my eye on the boy.<\/p>\n

He hadn\u2019t yet gotten to the part where he tore the heads off the dolls. I watched him pick up the toy cars again and advance them toward each other in inevitable collision.<\/p>\n

\u201cCah!\u201d<\/p>\n

The ringing concussion of metal against metal blocked out the whine of the video camera before dying. He tossed the cars aside as if they burned his fingers. One of them flipped over and rocked on its roof like a trapped turtle. He poked at it, then looked up at me, seeking permission.<\/p>\n

I nodded and he snatched up the cars. Turning them over in his hands, he examined the shiny undercarriages, spun the wheels, simulated the sounds of revving engines.<\/p>\n

\u201cVoom voom. Cah.\u201d<\/p>\n

A little over two, big and husky for his age, with the kind of fluid coordination that foretold athletic heroism. Blond hair, pug features, raisin-colored eyes that made me think of snowmen, an amber splash of freckles across nose and chubby cheeks.<\/p>\n

A Norman Rockwell kid: the kind of son any red-blooded American father would be proud of.<\/p>\n

His<\/em> father\u2019s blood was a rusty stain on the central divider somewhere along the Ventura Freeway.<\/p>\n

\u201cVoom cah!\u201d<\/p>\n

In six sessions, it was as close as he\u2019d come to speaking. I wondered about it, wondered about a certain dullness in the eyes.<\/p>\n

The second collision was sudden, harder. His concentration was intense. The dolls would come soon.<\/p>\n

His mother looked up from her seat in the corner. For the past ten minutes she\u2019d read the same page of a paperback entitled Will Yourself Successful!<\/em> Any pretense of casualness was betrayed by her body language. She sat high and stiff in the chair, scratched her head, stretched her long dark hair as if it were yarn, and kept coiling and uncoiling it around her fingers. One of her feet tapped out a nonstop four-four beat, sending ripples that coursed upward through the soft flesh of a pale, unstockinged calf and disappeared under the hem of her sun dress.<\/p>\n

The third crash made her wince. She lowered the book and looked at me, blinking hard. Just short of pretty- the kind of looks that flower in high school and fade fast. I smiled. She snapped her head down and returned to her book.<\/p>\n

\u201cCah!\u201d The boy grunted, took a car in each hand, smashed them together like cymbals, and let go upon impact. They careened across the carpet in opposite directions. Breathing hard, he toddled after them.<\/p>\n

\u201cCah!\u201d He picked them up and threw them down hard. \u201cVoom! Cah!\u201d<\/p>\n

He went through the routine several more times, then abruptly flung the cars aside and began scanning the room with hungry, darting glances. Searching for the dolls, though I always left them in the same place.<\/p>\n

A memory problem or just denial? At that age, all you could do was infer.<\/p>\n

Which was what I\u2019d told Mal Worthy when he\u2019d described the case and asked for the consult.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\n

***<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not going to get hard proof.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNot even trying for it, Alex. Just give me something I can work with.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about the mother?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cAs you\u2019d expect, a mess.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s working with her?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNo one, for the moment, Alex. I tried to get her to see someone but she refused. In the meantime, just do your thing for Darren and if a little therapy for Mama takes place in the process, I won\u2019t raise an objection. God knows she needs it- something like that happening to someone her age.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019d you get involved in an injury case, anyway?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cSecond marriage. Father was my handyman. I handled the divorce as a favor. She was the other woman and remembered me with fondness. Actually, I used to do lots of P.I. in the beginning. Feels good to get back into it. So tell me, how do you feel about working with one this young?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve had younger. How verbal is he?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cIf he talks I haven\u2019t heard it. She claims before the accident he was putting a few words together, but I don\u2019t get the impression they were saving up tuition for Cal Tech. If you could prove IQ loss, Alex, I could translate it into dollars.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cMal-\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

He laughed over the phone. \u201cI know, I know, Mr.- excuse me, Dr. Conservative. Far be it from me to-\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cGood talking to you, Mal. Have the mother call me to set up an appointment.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201c- attempt to unduly influence an expert witness. However, while you\u2019re analyzing the situation, you might consider imagining what it\u2019s going to be like for her, raising a kid by herself, no training, no money. Living with those memories. I just got pictures of the crash- they almost made me lose my lunch. There are some deep pockets here, Alex, and they deserve being dipped into.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\n

***<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cDah!\u201d He\u2019d found the dolls. Three men, a woman, a little boy. Small, soft plastic and pink, with bland, guileless faces, anatomically correct bodies, and detachable limbs. Next to them another pair of cars, larger than the first two, one red, one blue. A miniature child\u2019s car seat had been placed in the rear seat of the blue one.<\/p>\n

I stood, adjusted the video camera so that it was trained on the table, then sat on the floor next to him.<\/p>\n

He picked up the blue car and positioned the dolls using a familiar sequence: one man driving, another next to him, the woman behind the driver, the child in the car seat. The red car was empty. One male doll remained on the table.<\/p>\n

He flapped his arms and tugged his nose. Holding the blue car at arm\u2019s length, he looked away from it.<\/p>\n

I patted his shoulder. \u201cIt\u2019s all right, Darren.\u201d<\/p>\n

He inhaled, blew out air, picked up the red car and placed both vehicles on the floor, two feet apart, grille to grille. Taking another deep breath, he puffed up his cheeks and let out a scream, then smashed them together full force.<\/p>\n

The male passenger and the woman flew out and landed on the carpet. The boy doll slumped in its harness, head down.<\/p>\n

It was the driver doll that held his attention- lying across the front seat, its flight restrained by one foot caught in the steering wheel. Huffing, the boy struggled to pull it loose. Tugged and twisted, started to grunt with frustration, but finally managed to free it. He held it away from his body, examined its plastic face, and yanked its head off. Then he placed it next to the little boy.<\/p>\n

I heard a gasp from across the room and turned. Denise Burkhalter ducked back behind her book.<\/p>\n

Oblivious of her reaction, the boy dropped the headless body, picked up the female doll, hugged it, put it down. Then he returned to the male dolls- the decapitated driver and the front-seat passenger. Raising them over his head, he threw them against the wall, watched them hit, then fall.<\/p>\n

He looked at the child slumped in the seat and picked up the head next to it. After rolling it under his palm, he tossed it aside.<\/p>\n

He stepped toward the male doll that hadn\u2019t been moved- the driver of the other car- took another step, froze, then backed away.<\/p>\n

The room was silent except for the hum of the camera. A page turned. He stood still for several moments, then was overtaken by a burst of hyperactivity so fierce it electrified the room.<\/p>\n

Giggling, he rocked back and forth, wrung his hands and waved them in the air, sputtering and spitting. He ran from one side of the room to the other, kicking book-shelves, chairs, the desk, scuffing the baseboards, clawing the walls and leaving little greasy smudges on the plaster. His laughter rose in pitch before giving way to a croupy bark followed by a rush of tears. Throwing himself to the floor, he thrashed for a while, then curled fetally and lay there, sucking his thumb.<\/p>\n

His mother remained behind her book.<\/p>\n

I went to him and scooped him up in my arms.<\/p>\n

His body was tense and he was chewing hard on his thumb. I held him in my lap, told him everything was okay, he was a good boy. His eyes opened for an instant, then closed. Milk-sweet breath mingled with the not unpleasant odor of child sweat.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want to go to Mommy?\u201d<\/p>\n

Drowsy nod.<\/p>\n

She still hadn\u2019t moved. I said, \u201cDenise.\u201d Nothing. I repeated her name.<\/p>\n

She put the paperback in her purse, strung the purse over one shoulder, got up, and took him.<\/p>\n

We left the library and walked toward the front of the house. By the time we reached the door he was sleeping. I held the door open. Cool air blew in. A gentle summer that kept threatening to heat up. From the distance came the sound of a motorized lawnmower.<\/p>\n

\u201cAny questions you want to ask me, Denise?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNope.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019d he sleep this week?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe same.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSix or seven nightmares?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAbout. I didn\u2019t count- do I still have to?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt would help to know what\u2019s going on.\u201d<\/p>\n

No response.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe legal part of the evaluation is over, Denise. I have enough information for Mr. Worthy. But Darren\u2019s still struggling- totally normal for what he\u2019s been through.\u201d<\/p>\n

No response.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s come a long way,\u201d I said, \u201cbut he hasn\u2019t been able to act out the role of the\u2026 other driver yet. There\u2019s plenty of fear and anger still in him. It would help him to express it. I\u2019d like to see him some more.\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked at the ceiling.<\/p>\n

\u201cThose dolls,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know. It\u2019s hard to watch.\u201d<\/p>\n

She bit her lip.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut it\u2019s helpful for Darren, Denise. We can try having you wait outside next time. He\u2019s ready for it.\u201d<\/p>\n

She said, \u201cIt\u2019s far, coming up here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBad traffic?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe pits.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow long did it take you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHour and three quarters.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tujunga to Beverly Glen. A forty-minute freeway ride. If you could handle freeways.<\/p>\n

\u201cSurface streets jammed?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh huh. And you\u2019ve got some curvy roads up here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know. Sometimes when-\u201d<\/p>\n

Suddenly she was backing away. \u201cWhy do you make yourself so hard to get to, living up here! If you want to help people, why do you make it so damned hard!\u201d<\/p>\n

I waited a moment before answering. \u201cI know it\u2019s been rough, Denise. If you\u2019d rather meet in Mr. Worthy\u2019s-\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, forget it!\u201d And she was out the door.<\/p>\n

I watched her carry her son across the deck and down the stairs. His weight caused her to waddle. Her ungainliness made me want to rush down and help her. Instead, I stood there and watched her struggle. She finally made it to the rental car, worked hard at opening the rear door with one hand. Bending low, she managed to get Darren\u2019s limp body into the car seat. Slamming the door shut, she walked around to the driver\u2019s side and threw open the front door.<\/p>\n

Putting her key in the ignition, she lowered her head to the steering wheel and let it rest there. She sat that way for a while before turning on the engine.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\n

***<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Back in the library I turned off the video camera, removed the cassette, tagged it, and began my report, working slowly, with even greater precision than usual.<\/p>\n

Trying to forestall the inevitable.<\/p>\n

Several hours later the damned thing was finished; evicted from the helper role, I was, once again, someone who needed help. Numbness rolled over me, as inevitable as the tide.<\/p>\n

I considered calling Robin, decided against it. Our last conversation had been anything but triumphant- tongue-biting civility finally sabotaged by depth charges of hurt and anger.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\n

***<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026 freedom, space- I thought we were past that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I never got past freedom<\/em>, Alex.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I really don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m just trying to figure out what you want, Robin.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve explained it over and over. What more can I say?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf it\u2019s space you want, you\u2019ve got two hundred miles of it between us. Feeling any more fulfilled?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFulfillment\u2019s not the issue.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen what is?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStop it, Alex. Please.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStop what? Wanting to work this out?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStop cross-examining me. You sound so hostile.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow am I supposed to sound, a week stretched to a month? Where\u2019s the end point?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2026 I wish I could answer that, Alex.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTerrific- the endless dangle. And what was my big sin? Getting too involved? Okay, I can change that. Believe me, I can be cool as ice. In training I learned how to detach. But if I pull away, ten to one I\u2019ll be accused of male indifference.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStop it, Alex! I was up all night with Aaron. I can\u2019t handle this right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHandle what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll your words. They\u2019re coming at me like bullets.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019re we supposed to work anything out without words?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re not going to work anything out right now, so let\u2019s put it aside. Goodbye.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRobin-\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSay goodbye, Alex. Please. I don\u2019t want to hang up on you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cGoodbye, Robin.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGoodbye, Alex. I still love you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The shoemaker\u2019s children go barefoot.<\/p>\n

The shrink chokes on his words.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\n

***<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

The low mood gathered strength and hit me full force.<\/p>\n

Having someone to talk to would have helped. My list of confidants was damned short.<\/p>\n

Robin at the top.<\/p>\n

Then Milo.<\/p>\n

He was off with Rick, on a fishing trip in the Sierras. But even if his shoulder had been available I wouldn\u2019t have cried on it.<\/p>\n

Over the years, our friendship had taken on a certain rhythm: We talked about murder and madness over beer and pretzels, discussed the human condition with the aplomb of a pair of anthropologists observing a colony of savage baboons.<\/p>\n

When the horrors piled up too high, Milo bitched and I listened. When he went off the wagon, I helped talk him back on it.<\/p>\n

Sad-sack cop, supportive shrink. I wasn\u2019t ready to reverse the roles.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\n

***<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

A week\u2019s worth of mail had piled up on the dining room table. I\u2019d avoided opening it, dreading the superficial caresses of come-ons, coupons, and get-happy-quick schemes. But I needed, at that very moment, to keep my mind tethered to minutiae, free from the perils of introspection.<\/p>\n

I carried the stack into the bedroom, pulled a wastebasket to the side of the bed, sat down, and began sorting. At the bottom of the pile was a buff-colored envelope. Heavy linen stock, a Holmby Hills return address, embossed silver script on the back flap.<\/p>\n

Rich for my blood. An upscale sales pitch. I flipped the envelope over, expecting a computerized label, and saw my name and address printed in extravagant silver calligraphy. Someone had taken the time to do this one right.<\/p>\n

I checked the postmark- ten days old. Opened the envelope and pulled out a buff-colored invitation card, silver-bordered, more calligraphy:<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

DEAR DOCTOR DELAWARE,<\/p>\n

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO JOIN<\/p>\n

DISTINGUISHED ALUMNI AND MEMBERS OF THE UNIVERSITY COMMUNITY AT A GARDEN PARTY AND COCKTAIL RECEPTION HONORING<\/p>\n

DOCTOR PAUL PETER KRUSE,<\/p>\n

BLALOCK PROFESSOR OF PSYCHOLOGY AND<\/p>\n

HUMAN DEVELOPMENT.<\/p>\n

UPON HIS APPOINTMENT AS<\/p>\n

CHAIRMAN, THE DEPARTMENT OF PSYCHOLOGY<\/p>\n

SATURDAY, JUNE 13, 1987, FOUR IN THE AFTERNOON<\/p>\n

SKYLARK<\/p>\n

LA MAR ROAD<\/p>\n

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90077<\/p>\n

RSVP, THE PSYCHOLOGY DEPARTMENT<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Kruse as chairman. An endowed<\/em> chair, the ultimate reward for exceptional scholarship.<\/p>\n

It made no sense; the man was anything but a scholar. And though it had been years since I\u2019d had anything to do with him, there was no reason to believe he\u2019d changed and become a decent human being.<\/p>\n

Back in those days, he\u2019d been an advice columnist and a darling of the talk-show circuit, armed with the requisite Beverly Hills practice and a repertoire of truisms couched in pseudoscientific jargon.<\/p>\n

His column had appeared monthly in a supermarket-rack \u201cwomen\u2019s\u201d magazine- the kind of throwaway that prints articles on the latest miracle crash diet, closely followed by recipes for chocolate fudge cake, and combines exhortations to \u201cbe yourself\u201d with sexual IQ tests designed to make anyone taking them feel inadequate.<\/p>\n

Endowed professor. He\u2019d made only the slimmest pretense of conducting research- something to do with human sexuality that never produced a shred of data.<\/p>\n

But he hadn\u2019t been expected to be academically productive, because he hadn\u2019t been a member of the tenured faculty, just a clinical associate. One of scores of practitioners seeking academic cachet through association with the University.<\/p>\n

Associates gave occasional lectures on their specialties- in Kruse\u2019s case that had been hypnosis and a manipulative form of psychotherapy he called Communication Dynamics- and served as therapists and supervisors of the clinical-psych graduate students. A nifty symbiosis, it freed up the \u201creal\u201d professors for their grant applications and committee meetings while earning the associates parking permits, priority tickets to football games, and admission to the Faculty Club.<\/p>\n

From that to Blalock Professor. Incredible.<\/p>\n

I thought of the last time I\u2019d seen Kruse- about two years ago. Chance passers-by on campus, we\u2019d pretended not to notice each other.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d been walking toward the psych building, all custom tweeds, elbow patches, and fuming briar, a female student at each elbow. Letting loose with some profundity while copping fast feels.<\/p>\n

I looked down at all that silver writing. Cocktails at four. Hail to the chief.<\/p>\n

Probably something to do with a Holmby Hills connection, but still the appointment defied comprehension.<\/p>\n

I checked the date of the party- two days from now- then reread the address at the bottom of the invitation.<\/p>\n

Skylark<\/em>. The very rich christened their houses as if they were offspring.<\/p>\n

La Mar Road, no numbers. Translation: We own all of it, peasants<\/em>.<\/p>\n

I pictured the scene two days hence: fat cars, weak drinks, and numbing banter wafting across money-green lawns.<\/p>\n

Not my idea of fun. I tossed the invitation in the trash and forgot about Kruse. Forgot about the old days.<\/p>\n

But not for long.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Read the full book by downloading it below.<\/p>\n

DOWNLOAD EPUB<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Book Preview 1 I\u2019ve always hated parties and, under normal circumstances, never would have attended the one on Saturday. But my life was a mess. I relaxed my standards. And stepped into a nightmare. Thursday morning I was the good doctor, focusing on my patients, determined not to let my own garbage get in the … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5883,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[402],"class_list":["post-5884","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-jonathan-kellerman"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5884","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5884"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5884\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5883"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5884"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5884"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5884"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}