In the Blood: A Novel

In the Blood: A Novel

by Lisa Unger

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The New York Times bestselling author and International Thriller Writers “Best Novel” finalist Lisa Unger returns to the dark psychological suspense that made Beautiful Lies a bestseller around the world.

Lana Granger lives a life of lies. She has told so many lies about where she comes from and who she is that the truth is like a cloudy nightmare she can’t quite recall. About to graduate from college and with her trust fund almost tapped out, she takes a job babysitting a troubled boy named Luke. Expelled from schools all over the country, the manipulative young Luke is accustomed to controlling the people in his life. But, in Lana, he may have met his match. Or has Lana met hers?

When Lana’s closest friend, Beck, mysteriously disappears, Lana resumes her lying ways—to friends, to the police, to herself. The police have a lot of questions for Lana when the story about her where­abouts the night Beck disappeared doesn’t jibe with eyewitness accounts. Lana will do anything to hide the truth, but it might not be enough to keep her ominous secrets buried: someone else knows about Lana’s lies. And he’s dying to tell.

Lisa Unger’s writing has been hailed as “sensational” (Publishers Weekly) and “sophisticated” (New York Daily News), with “gripping narrative and evocative, muscular prose” (Associated Press). Masterfully suspenseful, finely crafted, and written with a no-holds-barred raw power, In the Blood is Unger at her best.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781451691191
Publisher: Gallery Books
Publication date: 01/07/2014
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 352
Sales rank: 132,757
File size: 4 MB

About the Author

Lisa Unger is an award-winning New York Times and internationally bestselling author. Her novels have sold more than two million copies and have been translated into twenty-six languages. She lives in Florida. Visit

Read an Excerpt

In The Blood


The winter day was gray and cool, not frigid as it had been. But still it was a very typical January day in upstate New York—barren, chill, flat. I rode my bike around the small, deserted campus, reveling in a quiet that is at its most total right before everyone returns from winter break. The trees were bare, twisted fingers reaching up into the thick, low cloud cover.

I had just returned to school from an unbearable holiday spent with my unbearable aunt and unbearable cousins. (And I know for a fact that they feel exactly the same way about me.) But we did bear up, because that’s what family does, isn’t it? We bear up, together, like it or not.

And so they tolerated the dark-haired, dark-eyed sulking interloper, a wraith in their sunny, golden-haired midst. And I tolerated their terrible happy togetherness. But I knew, and so did they, that I had not quite been folded in. I was a cockroach in the batter of their sweet lives. Too polite to remove me, they ate around me.

I can’t fault them, really. Because they are kind and good, and they took me in against all advice and good sense. And I do try to be polite, and they do, as well. And we are all very good at enduring unhappiness, especially my aunt, who had a great deal of practice early on.

“I have created my life,” she said, in one of the torturous heart-to-hearts she tried to have with me. “And you’re smart enough to do the same.”

She believes that, she really does. She thinks that we are made and not born, that it is the power of choice that forms our lives. With enough positive energy and good feng shui we can overcome almost anything. She’s one of those, the magical thinkers. I think I envy her, even if I can hardly suppress my disdain.

It was that time, with graduation right around the corner, when people wanted to know what you were going to do with your life. Graduate school seemed like a good bet, if for no other reason than it delayed my emergence from the freedom and indulgence of academics into the world of alarm clocks and ambition, and nine-to-five. I couldn’t see myself sitting in a cube somewhere—file cabinets and ringing phones, office birthday cakes and paper cuts. What was a psychology major fit for, if not for more education? The human mind, with all its mystery, bears endless study. Doesn’t it?

But if I hadn’t quite made any decisions on that front, I knew one thing. I needed a job. There was money for everything—for school and housing, for books and extras. My parents, whatever their failings, had made sure of it. There was an account, and I had a lawyer whom I called if I needed something: Skylar Lawrence, the man with the checkbook. He always sounded young on the phone, like a teenage girl. But he was old, ancient even—stooped and bald, draped in expensive suits, sporting gold-rimmed spectacles. He had known my parents for many years, and was the executor of my mother’s estate and manager of my trust. We’d met a couple of times over the years—solemn visits in his office, where he droned on about the status of my mother’s investments, budgets, conditions of the trust. I would sit, nodding sagely, with no idea what he was talking about, too shy to ask many questions.

When I thought of him, which was really only when I needed money, I always envisioned him dwarfed in his huge leather chair, with his stunning view of Manhattan spread about him like a glittering carpet. With a gnarled hand, he’d press a button and money would appear in my checking account. I know: a trust-fund baby, how annoying. Believe it, you wouldn’t want to be me.

During my last conversation with Sky, he suggested that I might find some work since my class schedule was light.

“It would be a good thing for you,” he said. I heard a sharp inhale and slow exhale. He was a smoker; there was an occasional edge to his otherwise youthful voice, sudden bursts of wet, rattling coughs. “To earn something of your own.”

“Okay,” I said. I always said that. It was my stock response when I didn’t know what to say.

“Because you’re an adult now,” he went on, as though I’d put up an argument. “And you need to decide what you are going to make of your life. Earning your own way is part of that.”

“You sound like Aunt Bridgette.”

I heard the hiss of a match lighting, and he drew in another breath sharply. I suppose it wasn’t a stretch to think that this was a scheme they’d hatched together. We choose who we are, she’d said over break, certainly not for the first time. And I could tell that it was important to her that I believe that. We don’t inherit everything.

“Am I out of money or something?” I asked.

“Not yet,” he said. “But as you know, there is a period of diminished support after graduation. You won’t come into your trust until you’re thirty. It was your mother’s wish that you find your calling, and earn your own way.”

“Right,” I said. Of course, I knew this. Both Sky and Bridgette had mentioned it repeatedly. But somehow it had always seemed so very far away, that time when I’d spread my wings and fly on my own. Here I was, on the edge of the academic nest and looking down. I had no idea whether I’d take to the air or crash into a pile of bones.

“So, when you say ‘diminished support,’ you mean . . . ?”

He told me the small yearly sum I would receive, just to help make ends meet and to provide for some extras should I have a low-paying job. “Your mother wanted you to follow your dreams, make a difference. It was her hope that you’d help people. She didn’t want you to choose your career based on how much it paid, but she did want you to do something.”

Of course, no one ever mentioned my father or what he wanted from me.

“I know,” I said. “I will.”

So, that first day back after my winding, solitary bike ride around campus, I walked to the office of student affairs to gaze at the job board. I was weirdly excited. I liked the idea of doing something other than studying, which I had been doing diligently for years. I had been the valedictorian of my high school class. I had a perfect 4.0 average at university. Knowledge and the regurgitation of such in the form of essay and exam came very easily to me. It was everything else that came hard.

Dog walker? Coffeehouse waitress? Bookstore clerk? Librarian assistant? Math tutor? The board was a colorful riot of help-wanted notices, and the possibilities seemed endless. The office assistant was typing behind me. Beside me the phone rang three times, went silent, then started ringing again. I ripped off little paper tags with phone numbers on them. I imagined myself tugged down the street by five dogs with bladders about to burst, or rushing between bistro tables delivering espressos to the undercaffeinated, or quietly filing homeless books, putting them in proper order. Is that what my mom would have wanted for me? Did these jobs qualify as helping people?

“What about this one?”

Startled from my reverie, I saw my psychology professor lingering nearby. He was looking at yet another board brimming with offers. So many people with menial needs, offering positions to those of us desperate for pocket money. It was a sub-economy: easy jobs for overprivileged youth. It seemed like an inside joke. While the larger economy faltered and the working poor labored tirelessly only to make ends meet, some of us drifted on a silly cloud, only asking to receive. Or maybe that’s just me being cynical.

I walked over to stand beside him. He was squinting through his glasses as he pulled a notice off the board and handed it to me.

“?‘Single mother looking for afternoon help with her eleven-year-old son,’?” I read. “?‘After school through dinner, some overnights.’?”

“Should work with your schedule,” he said easily. I had mentioned to him my need for a job before break and he’d promised to be on the lookout for something suitable.

In addition to being my teacher, he was also my school counselor. He’d come to the university shortly after I started. And we’d always walked the line of friendship, which was easier now that I was older.

Langdon Hewes was a study in propriety. We had only met in public places, or with the door to his office wide open. He was too young to be so cautious, but he hinted at having had some kind of negative past experience. And I didn’t pry—because I certainly didn’t want to talk about my past either. He ran a hand through the perpetual tousle of his dark hair, and looked down at me from his towering height.

“Nanny?” I said, skeptical.

“More like babysitter,” he said.

“What’s the difference?”

He shrugged, looked up. He had this way of searching the sky or the ceiling for his answers. He’d tilt his head up and squint into nothingness, as if it were all there in the ether, just waiting to be found.

“Nannies are for little kids,” he said finally. “It’s more of a full-time position. Babysitting is, like, more casual, more as needed.”

He said this with a firm nod that brooked no questioning. Even though he surely knew nothing about nannies or babysitters, I took him at his word. He did have a Ph.D. in child psychology, was the known expert in childhood psychopathy. He’d published several articles in major consumer magazines—including the New York Times Magazine, Psychology Today, Vanity Fair, as well as the ever-important academic journals. Publish or perish; it was no joke at this school. He was currently at work on a book, a collection of case studies that was, he hoped, a blend between a text and something more mainstream. So maybe his opinion on this topic counted for something. At least that’s what I told myself.

I held the ad in my hand. Unlike the other pink and green and yellow sheets, with their fun or fancy typefaces, this was just a plain white paper, with centered Times New Roman text. It offered nothing but its own simplicity. A need in black and white, waiting to be filled.

“You only have three classes this term,” he said. “Mine, criminal psychology, and art. Light load. Never a good idea to have too much time on your hands.”

I wouldn’t call him handsome, but there was something pleasant about his aspect. Even his slouch, his perfectly pressed oxfords and chinos (sometimes jeans), those Merrell cross-training shoes, had a kind of comforting predictability. With Langdon, there were never any surprises. My own inner life was always chaotic, churning. I wondered what it was like to be so even, so measured. His presence never failed to calm me.

“I’ll be your reference.”

“I don’t have any babysitting experience.”

“You’re a psych major,” he said. “There was your internship at Fieldcrest. You were fabulous with the kids.” He said this with a smile, as though it was a little private joke. “You got an A in my class.”

My work at Fieldcrest, a school associated with the university for troubled and emotionally challenged young people, had been intense, to say the least. I was pleased that he thought I’d done a good job there. It was the first time he’d said so out loud, even though the internship evaluation he’d written had been glowing. I shifted forward, closer to him, feeling a little jolt of excitement. There was something about the paper in my hand, about his being there, about the prospect of something new in my life.

I fished my phone from my backpack and dialed the number as we walked into his office. I sat across from his desk and he sat, spun to face his computer, and started typing.

“My name is Lana Granger,” I said when a woman answered. “I’m answering your ad.”

“Oh, great,” she said. She sounded slightly breathless. I heard paper rustling in the background. “Can you come for an interview today?”

Outside the window, it seemed like a ray of sun had broken through the cloud cover and I saw a little bit of blue in the sky for what seemed like the first time in months.

“Uh,” I said stupidly. I hadn’t expected things to progress so quickly. But why not? I guess when you needed a sitter, you really needed a sitter. I looked at my wrist only to realize that I wasn’t wearing a watch. I didn’t even own a watch. And I knew that I had nothing whatsoever to do that day anyway. “Sure.”

“Perfect,” she said. She sounded bright and cheerful; nice, I guess. “After lunch, say twoish?”

We made all the arrangements, exchanged necessary information like her address (?just a quick bike ride away from campus), her name (Rachel Kahn, son Luke), my phone number. After I hung up, Langdon turned to look at me. He had an odd expression on his face, something I couldn’t read. But he was like that, a total brain, his mind always working, figuring, developing theories.

“Good work,” he said.

“I didn’t do anything,” I answered. “It was just a phone call.”

“Today is the beginning of your real life,” he said. “This could be your first actual job.”

I couldn’t tell if he was making fun of me in that sweet, gentle way that he had. But I found myself smiling at him. It did feel like kind of a big deal, and my stomach was a little fluttery with happiness. And I was glad I had him to share it with.

“I’ll take you out to lunch to celebrate,” he said. “Let’s go get some pizza.”

I thought about my aunt Bridgette, who is not really so unbearable. Seriously. It’s only that she’s not my mother. Though I know she cares for me, she doesn’t love me. Only a child who has lost a mother knows how yawning and uncrossable is the space between those two things. Just because horrible things have happened to you doesn’t mean you can’t have a happy, normal life, she’d said to me once. I had felt sorry for her, only because I suspected that she might be wrong. I was marked, wasn’t I? Forever? But for whatever silly reason as we left Langdon’s office, I let myself wonder if maybe she was right after all.

Reading Group Guide

This reading group guide for In The Blood includes an introduction, discussion questions, ideas for enhancing your book club, and a Q&A with author Lisa Unger. The suggested questions are intended to help your reading group find new and interesting angles and topics for your discussion. We hope that these ideas will enrich your conversation and increase your enjoyment of the book.


Lana Granger has a lot of secrets. She likes it that way, likes to keep her troubled past out of her new, seemingly normal life at a small college in upstate New York. Approaching graduation, with her trust fund about to run out, she takes a job babysitting for a deeply troubled young boy named Luke. Accustomed to controlling the people in his life, and a player of complex games, Luke may finally have met his match in Lana. But as Luke’s behavior grows increasingly strange and unpredictable, Lana begins to suspect she may be up against more than she bargained for. When Lana’s closest friend Beck goes missing, Lana’s carefully hidden secrets begin bubbling to the surface. Desperate to keep her dark past from intruding on her carefully constructed life, Lana is willing to do almost anything to keep the truth from coming out. But someone else knows all about Lana’s secrets, and confronting the past she’s worked so hard to hide may be the only way Lana can find Beck—and save her own life.

Topics & Questions for Discussion

1. In The Blood opens with an excerpt “The Tiger,” a poem by the British poet William Blake. Why do you think the author chose this poem to open the story? What connections do you see between the subject matter of the poem and that of the novel?

2. One of the primary themes of In The Blood is the debate of “nature vs. nurture” and the relative importance of upbringing and genetics in determining individuals’ personality. Why does this debate have such significance for the characters in the novel? What do you think the author’s point of view is in this debate? What do you think is more important in determining someone’s personality—their genes or their upbringing?

3. On page 25, we discover that the motto of Lana’s college is “Come with a purpose and find your path.” What does this mean for Lana? What significance does the motto have for Lana’s life in general?

4. Lana’s urge to help others springs largely from her mother’s request that she use her intelligence and other gifts to help people. Why do you think this is so important to Lana? What does her mother’s request mean to her? What are some other reasons Lana might be motivated to help others?

5. One of the powerful themes of In The Blood is the thin line between “normal” and “abnormal.” What do you think separates normal from abnormal in terms of psychology? Is this the difference between Lana and Luke? Why is it so difficult to diagnose someone who is “abnormal”?

6. Lana’s character is markedly ambiguous, androgynous, and evolves constantly throughout the book—both in her own person and in our understanding of her. How did your perception of Lana change throughout the novel? Did you like her as a person? How did your trust in her account of things, her reliability as a narrator, shift as certain facts were revealed?

7. Early in Lana’s job as Luke’s babysitter, she says, “In the light, he looked exactly what he was—a little boy, troubled maybe but just a kid. I felt an unwanted tug of empathy (p. 45).” Why doesn’t Lana want to empathize with Luke? How does this desire change throughout the course of the novel? Do you think Lana’s later empathy towards Luke is due to his manipulations, or is it something else?

8. Lana believes that the idea of the “bad seed” is a pervasive “acceptable bigotry (p.55)” in our society. Do you agree with her about this? How are people that are perceived to be “bad seeds” judged, or misjudged?

9. The diary that is woven throughout the story of Lana spends much of its time meditating on the stresses that having a child puts on a relationship. As the diary’s author says, “Maybe parenthood is a crucible; the intensity of its environment breaks you down to your most essential elements as a couple (p.129).” What do you think of this assessment? How does a so-called “problem child” complicate the situation?

10. Lana is immensely competitive with Luke, something he uses to his great advantage. Why do you think Lana is so easily sucked into competing with a young boy? Why is she compelled to keep participating in his games when she knows the dangers?

11. Lana has a unique perspective on forgiveness. As she puts it, “In real life, that doesn’t happen. People don’t forgive things like that. They don’t find peace. It’s pure bullshit. When something unspeakable happens, or when you do something unspeakable, it changes you. It takes you apart and reassembles you (p.122).” Do you agree with this perspective? Are some things unforgivable? Is forgiveness something you do for yourself, or for the person being forgiven?

12. On pages 142-143, Lana meditates on why people are so obsessed with violent, horrible crimes. She says, “People love a mystery, a tragedy, a shooting, a disappearance, a gruesome murder.” Why do you think this is? Do you think Lana is right to condemn people’s interest in these kinds of crimes? What does Lana’s perspective as an insider tell you about this kind of interest or obsession that you may not have known, or known as well, before reading In The Blood?

13. Early in the novel, Lana says, “We count so much on politeness, those of us who are hiding things. We count on people not staring too long, or asking too many questions (p. 26).” Do you think this shows a downside to politeness? Are we are too polite, as a society? How does Lana’s urge to keep her secrets complicate the lives of other people in her life?

14. In The Blood poses a lot of complicated questions about the treatment of mental illness, and the possibility of “redeeming” sociopaths and genuine psychopaths. What do you think the right course of action is with these kinds of individuals? Using Luke as an example, what do you think was the right thing to do with him at the end of the book? Do you think Lana does the right thing in her actions towards Luke?

Enhance Your Book Club

1. Many of In The Blood’s chapters take the form of a diary written by one of the characters, giving us insight into a part of the story we couldn’t have known otherwise. Choose one of the other characters in the book, and write a few diary entries as their character—try and provide some insight into their character or part of the story that wasn’t in the book with your entries. Share your ‘diaries’ with your group!

2. Although Luke’s scavenger hunt didn’t end up very well (to say the least!), that doesn’t mean that your group can’t have your own safe, fun, scavenger hunt! Breaking into pairs or teams, prepare a brief series of clues for another team. Be creative with your clues, whether they are poems, rhymes, or something else entirely, and leave a small prize at the end of the hunt!

3. Join the conversation! and are great resources for more information on Lisa Unger’s novels and a way to meet other fans of In The Blood. Check out the videos on with your group, and share your favorite parts of In The Blood with Lisa on Facebook!

A Conversation with Lisa Unger

This is your twelfth book—what unique challenges did In The Blood pose for such a prolific and accomplished author as yourself?

Wow, is it? You’re right! That’s a lot of books, a lot of time spent with the people in my head. One might think I had it all under control at this point. But every time I sit down to write a novel, it feels like the first time. So every book poses its own unique challenges. I guess that’s what keeps it interesting.
It’s always a character voice that draws me into the narrative. But Lana Granger was hiding a lot from me, even as she started telling me her story. I knew she was keeping a big secret, but I didn’t know what it was. And I had a hard time figuring her out, what she wanted, what her dark places were. I heard her voice very clearly, but it took me quite a while to get inside her. When I did, I was more surprised that I have been by any other character.

This is the third book you’ve written that takes place in The Hollows. What interests you so much about this kind of small town? Is it based on a real place? Do you have more novels planned for this setting?

When The Hollows revealed itself as the setting for Fragile, I didn’t think that much of it. It just seemed like Anytown, USA, just the place where the story was set. My stories prior to this had always taken place in iconic locations…New York City, mainly. So The Hollows seemed kind of small time to me. But the story of Fragile, and the story that followed turned out to be intimately connected to the town where they took place. I realized that The Hollows was a place I needed to explore. It had an energy. I wouldn’t call it malicious, exactly. But it’s a place that encourages paths to cross, that doesn’t like secrets, and has a way of pushing up buried bodies.
It’s not based on any real place, though my brother swears it bears a strong resemblance to the town where we grew up, Long Valley, New Jersey. It’s truly not that place, or any place. But it does occupy a huge space in my imagination, and I can’t seem to move on from there… even in the next book. So I guess I’m not done with The Hollows. Or maybe The Hollows is not done with me.

Like many of your earlier novels, In The Blood takes a psychological perspective on crime. What is it that interests you about that take on violent behavior?

I have an insatiable curiosity about human nature. The psyche is the ultimate mystery; there are so many elements at play in the development of each individual, and no two people will be affected in the same way by the same set of circumstances. My fascination for people–what forms us, what drives us, what motivates us–informs my fiction.
Crime and violence act as a kind of crucible. When bad things happen, the truth of character is often revealed. There are no easy answers to questions like: Are we formed by nature or nurture? Why do some people kill, and lie, and steal? Why do others perform great acts of heroism? I spend a lot of time exploring answers to these questions in my fiction.

What kind of research did you have to do for In The Blood ? Do you enjoy the process of researching, or is it more of a means to an end?

In The Blood was inspired by research, which is not always the case. Generally, there’s a character voice first and then the research follows. I read an article in The New York Times Magazine about childhood psychopathy that really got me thinking about troubled children. That curiosity lead me to a great deal more reading: The Sociopath Next Store by Martha Stout, Ph.D., Without Conscience by Robert D. Hare, Ph.D. and Savage Spawn by Jonathon Kellerman.
But these books just built on research that I have been doing for more than a decade. The first and most important book I read on the mystery of the psyche was The Inner World of Trauma by Donald Kalsched. Every since that book, I’ve had a big appetite for information on this topic.

You’ve created such a compelling and memorable lead character in Lana Granger. Where did the seed of Lana’s character begin? Is Lana based on someone from your life?

I started hearing Lana’s voice while I was doing the reading I mentioned above. I think she was a natural manifestation of my curiosity about troubled children–what forms them, how do their problems grow or change or disappear altogether as they grow older. Will a disturbed child necessarily evolve into a dangerous adult? Lana was a meditation on some of these questions.

In The Blood is full of eerie, subtle foreshadowing, and hints of what is to come—how difficult is it to give the reader inklings of later events and revelations, without giving it all away?

It’s not difficult at all, actually—because I am often learning things at the same pace as my readers.
I write without an outline. When I sit down to write, I only have a character voice in my head, or possibly a scene that’s playing and replaying. I have no idea what my book is about, who is going to show up, what they are going to do day-to-day. I write for the same reason that I read, because I want to know what is going to happen. I am usually quite surprised, and hope my readers are, too. I wish I could take credit for the “eerie, subtle foreshadowing” but I don’t feel totally responsible for it. My smarter, cooler subconscious has a lot to do with that.

Lana frequently reflects on the trauma of being involved in murder case that is sensationalized and obsessed over. Why do you think we are so compelled by these kinds of violent acts? Why do they make so much news? What’s the line between interest and obsession?

The line is thin and as a culture, I’d say we’re over it. Sensational, irresponsible news coverage designed to sell advertising and ridiculous “reality” television programming, has turned us all into voyeurs. When we are busy ogling other people’s disasters, it gives us a break from examining our own lives. It’s a lot easier to rubberneck than it is to take a hard look at how we’re living.

One of In The Blood ’s most interesting themes is that of the nature vs. nurture debate. Do you think violent behavior is truly genetic, or is it brought out by environment? Or is it more complicated than that distinction?

There are no easy answers. From what I’ve read and understood the tendency toward violent behavior is a complicated mingling of these two factors. But it’s different for every individual. One might have the genetic code for violence, but environmental factors can either support its evolution into something ugly, or quash it all together. The reverse can also be true–early abuse, as well as physical and psychic trauma can impact an individual who might otherwise have been healthy. Like most questions about human nature, it’s treacherously complicated.

What can we look forward to next in your writing career? Are you currently working on a new novel?

I am at work on a new novel—always. Hopefully, I’ll deliver ever more complex and interesting characters, more twisting, surprising, and engaging plots with every book. My goal as a writer every day, is to be a better writer than I was yesterday. I think you can do that … dig deeper, work harder, delve more intimately into character, and hone your prose. I owe that to my readers.

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