The riveting novel from the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Liar .   “She stood in the deep, dark woods, breath shallow and cold prickling over her skin despite the hot, heavy air. She took a step back, then two, as the urge to run fell over her.”   Naomi Bowes lost her innocence the night she followed her father into the woods. In freeing the girl trapped in the root cellar, Naomi revealed the horrible extent of her father’s crimes and made him infamous. No matter how close she gets to happiness, she can’t outrun the sins of Thomas David Bowes.   Now a successful photographer living under the name Naomi Carson, she has found a place that calls to her, a rambling old house in need of repair, thousands of miles away from everything she’s ever known. Naomi wants to embrace the solitude, but the kindly residents of Sunrise Cove keep forcing her to open up—especially the determined Xander Keaton.   Naomi can feel her defenses failing, and knows that the connection her new life offers is something she’s always secretly craved. But the sins of her father can become an obsession, and, as she’s learned time and again, her past is never more than a nightmare away. Praise for The Obsession   “Roberts retains her impeccably high standards in this excellently executed tale, once again dazzling readers with a sophisticated blend of edge-of-your-seat suspense and sexy romance.”— Booklist (starred review)   “Roberts has an unparalleled ability to paint a picture with words—readers will easily picture Naomi’s photographic art and her rambling home with its beautiful view—and the story is expertly executed. Sizzling romance, affable characters, and enticing suspense make this a read to be savored.”— Publishers Weekly (starred review) “This riveting tale benefits from an immensely likable supporting cast and its rewarding blend of suspense and romance. Brief glimpses into the killer’s mind add a chilling touch to a story you won’t be able to put down.”— Library Journal Nora Roberts is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of more than 200 novels, including The Liar , The Collector , Whiskey Beach , The Witness , and many more. She is also the author of the bestselling In Death series written under the pen name J. D. Robb. There are more than 500 million copies of her books in print. ***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof*** Copyright © 2016 Nora Roberts Chapter One August 29, 1998 She didn’t know what woke her, and no matter how many times she relived that night, no matter where the nightmare chased her, she never would. Summer turned the air into a wet, simmering stew, one smelling of sweat and drenching green. The humming fan on her dresser stirred it, but it was like sleeping in the steam pumping off the pot. Still, she was used to that, to lying on top of summer-moist sheets, with the windows open wide to the relentless chorus of cicadas—and the faint hope even a tiny breeze would slither through the sultry. The heat didn’t wake her, nor did the soft rumble of thunder from a storm gathering in the distance. Naomi went from sleep to awake in an instant, as if someone had given her a good shake or shouted her name in her ear. She sat straight up in bed, blinking at the dark, hearing nothing but the hum of the fan, the high pitch of the cicadas, and the lazy, repetitive hoo of an owl. All country summer sounds she knew as well as her own voice, and nothing to put that odd little click in her throat. But now, awake, she felt that heat, like gauze soaked in hot water and wrapped around every inch of her. She wished it were morning so she could sneak out before anyone was up and cool off in the creek. Chores came first, that was the rule. But it was so hot it felt like she’d have to part the air like a curtain just to take a step. And it was Saturday (or would be in the morning) and sometimes Mama let the rules slide a little on Saturdays—if Daddy was in a good mood. Then she heard that rumble of thunder. Delighted, she scrambled out of bed to rush to her window. She loved storms, the way they whirled and swung through the trees, the way the sky went spooky, the way lightning slashed and flashed. And maybe this storm would bring rain and wind and cooler air. Maybe. She knelt on the floor, her arms folded on the windowsill, her eyes on the bit of moon hazed by heat and clouds. Maybe. She wished for it—a girl who’d turn twelve in just two days and still believed in wishes. A big storm, she thought, with lightning like pitchforks and thunder like cannon fire. And lots and lots of rain. She closed her eyes, tipped her face up, tried sniffing the air. Then, in her Sabrina the Teenage Witch T-shirt, she pillowed her head on her hands and studied the shadows. Again she wished for morning, and since wishes were free, wished it were the morning of her birthday. She wanted a new bike so bad, and she’d given out plenty of hints. She knelt, wanting morning, a girl tall a