Compound Factures (Dr. Alan Gregory, Book 20)
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For more than twenty years, in nearly a score of bestselling crime novels, New York Times bestselling author Stephen White's stories of Boulder psychologist Alan Gregory have captivated millions of readers. Now Compound Fractures provides a riveting last chapter to the series.
In Line of Fire, the tantalizing prelude to this final book, Dr. Gregory found himself assailed by danger from every direction as he struggled with circumstances beyond his control. Authorities were closing in on Alan and his friend Sam Purdy for their role in a woman's death years earlier. Alan was struggling to deal with the emotional collapse of his longtime friend Diane after she discovered evidence of her husband's infidelity.
By the end, Alan's personal life and his career were in danger of complete collapse.
But Line of Fire merely set the stage. In Compound Fractures, the explosive conclusion to the decades-long saga, Alan is forced to acknowledge that the perils that may bring him to his knees are not the dangers he recognizes, nor are they orchestrated by the nemesis he has long feared. Instead he is confronted by unexpected threats from unanticipated adversaries and by intimate betrayal from those who have been closest to him. He is compelled to reconsider what he has long believed about trust and about love while he is trying to cope with overwhelming loss and grief.
To protect himself he must revisit the cruel ethical dilemma that turned his life upside down as a young psychologist. He has to judge whether the people reentering his life after long absences are friends or foes. He has to make sense of echoes of distant tragedies while he decides if there is anyone he can really trust. Mostly, as the clock ticks down, he must solve a deadly mystery in Eldorado Springs that has been brewing for more than a decade.
At times full of pathos, at other times replete with White's distinctive wry humor, Compound Fractures delivers the entrancing characters, the suspense, the intricately plotted storylines, and the unexpected twists that readers have come to expect.
Compound Fractures promises to be a jaw-dropping and satisfying last act in Stephen's beloved series.
Springs on September fourteenth, 2001, three days after the 9/11 attacks. The victim was that young psychologist—a twenty-nine-year-old male. He had died three days before. His body—” “Marshall Doctor. He lived on Prado.” I couldn’t interpret her expression. She said, “I don’t know what Prado is.” “The road to Eldorado? Parallel to it, there are some great homes and lots that are adjacent to the open space? That street is Prado.” She shrugged. Apparently Kirsten wasn’t a
from the two therapies. With what I’ve read online. These two men have demonstrated that they are willing to kill. The next victim? I believe he is at risk.” “‘Implied’? ‘Almost clear’? ‘Believe’?” “Yes.” I expected him to argue. He didn’t. He said, “What about immediacy?” “It could happen at any time.” “Is that imminence, Delilah? Or speculation?” “It’s risk to someone’s life. The stakes couldn’t be higher.” “Are you able to identify the intended victim?” “I am.
intended effect was to allow him to make a subtle insinuation about me. “At least by the time her things were taken into evidence. Here, in your office.” “‘Here’ meaning the crime scene?” I said. “I assume my office was under police control minutes after the shooting.” “Yes.” Elliot paused. “Minutes after. That’s accurate. Those ‘minutes’ are of some concern to the investigation.” “Are we still reminiscing?” I asked. He nodded. “What woman did Lauren meet?” I knew. The woman who
me. I shouldn’t have come.” “Talk. Don’t apologize.” I felt innuendo. I couldn’t afford to be distracted, so I ignored the innuendo. I took a deep breath before I opened my mouth but I couldn’t find a second word. The first word—I—I repeated twice more. I exhaled, emptying my lungs, hoping to get past the pronoun. Kirsten leaned forward far enough that she could place three fingertips on my wrist. “Slow,” she said. Then she smiled and added, “But not too slow.” “I need your
homeless guys on the Mall their bad rep. “The tourist was a German who spoke good English, but what he kept saying to explain why he hit the homeless man was that the guy had ‘earned it.’ I was telling him that you’re not allowed to hit somebody in America because he earned it. We went back and forth a couple of times. He finally resorts to German to make his point—he says something-something then ‘backpfeifengesicht.’” Sam spelled out the word for me as though the correct spelling would