Bones Never Lie (Temperance Brennan)
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Temperance “Tempe” Brennan faces down the demons of her past in the seventeenth thriller in Kathy Reichs’s phenomenally successful Bones series.
Unexpectedly called in to the Charlotte PD’s Cold Case Unit, Dr. Temperance Brennan wonders why she’s been asked to meet with a homicide cop who’s a long way from his own jurisdiction. The shocking answer: Two child murders, separated by thousands of miles, have one thing in common—the killer. Years ago, Anique Pomerleau kidnapped and murdered a string of girls in Canada, then narrowly eluded capture. It was a devastating defeat for her pursuers, Brennan and police detective Andrew Ryan. Now, as if summoned from their nightmares, Pomerleau has resurfaced in the United States, linked to victims in Vermont and North Carolina. When another child is snatched, the reign of terror promises to continue—unless Brennan can rise to the challenge and make good on her second chance to stop a psychopath.
But Brennan will have to draw her bitter ex-partner out of exile, keep the local police and feds from one another’s throats, and face more than just her own demons as she stalks the deadliest of predators into the darkest depths of madness.
In Bones Never Lie, Kathy Reichs once again satisfies readers looking for psychological suspense that’s more than skin-deep.
times. Listening outside Mama’s bedroom door. Confused by the tears, the breaking glass. Terrified she’d come out. Terrified she wouldn’t. Memories of Andrew Ryan. Happy times. Skiing at Mont Tremblant in the Laurentian Mountains. Celebrating successes at Hurley’s Irish pub. Laughing at our shared cockatiel Charlie’s bawdy quips. Sad times. The day Ryan was shot. The plane crash that took the life of his partner. The night we ended our relationship. Doubts about my upcoming excursion. Was it
media had picked up on transmissions concerning the discovery of Leal’s body, and that the reporters sitting vigil at the morgue were just doing their jobs. I also knew that dozens more were swarming elsewhere—the underpass, the convenience store, the Leal home—salivating for an inside line to pipe to their editors. My gesture was unfair. Definitely inelegant. But I refused to provide fodder for voyeurs wanting a peek into the heartbreak of others. The Penguin drive-in is a clogged artery
search of Larabee. Found him in autopsy room one, slicing a brain. “What did Parent say?” I asked. Larabee looked at me, knife in one hand, apron and gloves speckled with blood. “I’m not sure if it’s good news or bad.” Spoken through three-ply paper hooked over his ears. I wiggled my fingers in a “Give it to me” gesture. Larabee laid down the knife and lowered the mask. “Parent spent all weekend analyzing the smear on Leal’s jacket.” “You’re kidding.” “She’s divorced, and her kid was away
inking and then pressing each fingertip to a print sheet. “I’ll tell you later.” “Where’s Ryan?” “Tossing a sugar shack.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Later.” I heard a metallic rattle, then water hitting stainless steel. I turned. Karras was using a spray nozzle on the hair covering the face. Slowly, the strands yielded and drifted back toward the temples. The features came into view. My jaw dropped. “God Almighty!” Karras was eyeing me, stony with disapproval. I found an image on
to register for ten.” “You do that back when you landed here?” Ajax pulled a wry grin. “I am a changed man.” “A real humanitarian.” “I cure the sick.” “Let’s go back over that. You stitched up a sixteen-year-old name of Colleen Donovan. Street kid brought in by the cops. Head wound.” “I repeat. I treat hundreds of patients each year.” “How about Shelly Leal. Came in last summer complaining of cramps.” “Without access to charts, I can’t possibly know.” “Yeah? Well, we know.” Slidell’s