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"James Hayman’s edgy, ingenious novels rival the best of Lisa Gardner, Jeffery Deaver, and Kathy Reichs. A Fatal Obsession is his finest to date: a ferocious live-wire thriller starring two of the most appealing cops in contemporary fiction."

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Big city cool in a small city setting…

“The Girl on the Bridge combines the pleasures of a classic police procedural with the righteous satisfaction of a revenge thriller, and a great twist. Every crime fiction fan will find something to enjoy here.” -Joseph Finder, New York Times bestselling author of Paranoia and The Switch

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About James Hayman

Born and raised in New York City, James Hayman spent nearly thirty years working as a copywriter and creative director for some of Madison Avenue,s biggest ad agencies.

In 2001 he left moved to Portland, Maine in search of the right kind of place to begin a new career as a fiction writer. Portland filled the bill perfectly. The Cutting is his debut thriller.

Fog can be a sudden thing on the Maine coast. On even the clearest mornings, swirling gray mists can sometimes appear in an instant, covering the earth with an opacity that makes it hard to see even one’s own feet on the ground. On this particular September morning it descended at 5:30, about the time Lucinda Cassidy and her companion Fritz, a small dog of indeterminate pedigree, arrived at the cemetery on Vaughan Street...

The press conference began on schedule on the broad granite steps of Portland’s hundred-year old Beaux-Arts City Hall. The event was, as McCabe expected, perfectly stage-managed. Camera crews and reporters from the local network affiliates plus reporters from all of Maine’s major daily papers stood in a crowd at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at Shockley...

The summer crowds in the Old Port had thinned now that Labor Day had come and gone, but the air was warm and Exchange Street bustled with energy. Shops and restaurants were open late and busy. Packs of teenagers in varying states of grunge–some with piercings and tattoos and some without–spread themselves across the sidewalks, forcing middle-aged tourists out onto the narrow streets...

McCabe...took a deep breath and walked toward the trunk, preparing himself for the first few seconds he’d spend alone with the victim. The cop and the corpse. A unique and strangely intimate relationship. Just the two of them. It didn’t matter to McCabe who the victim was. A gangbanger or an innocent child. Either way, for him, it was this moment of shared intimacy that turned what, for some cops was merely a job, into an obligation. A sacred trust. To find and punish the killer, to right the wrong, to balance the scales. The Lord may someday get His turn. But for now, McCabe believed, vengeance is mine. I go first.

"A hundred years ago most islanders would never have dreamed of building anything more than a fishing shack out here on the open ocean. Even twenty years ago when Abby was a little girl there were only a few houses on the backshore and most of those were pretty modest. It was too damned cold and the nor’easters too punishing. People today had no problem coming to the island, changing the place, pushing real estate prices and taxes ever higher and challenging nature in ways that seemed to Abby arrogant and wrong."

"If Abby had been running a step or two faster, had she rounded the bend at Seal Point a second or two sooner, or i f she'd just been looking out to sea when the match flared in the second-floor window, she never would have seen it. In this, however, as in so much else in her life, luck didn't fall Abby's way. "

The summer crowds in the Old Port had thinned now that Labor Day had come and gone, but the air was warm and Exchange Street bustled with energy. Shops and restaurants were open late and busy. Packs of teenagers in varying states of grunge-some with piercings and tattoos and some without-spread themselves across the sidewalks, forcing middle-aged tourists out onto the narrow streets...

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