In the Woods
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A gripping thriller and New York Times bestseller from the acclaimed author of Broken Harbor and The Secret Place
As dusk approaches a small Dublin suburb in the summer of 1984, mothers begin to call their children home. But on this warm evening, three children do not return from the dark and silent woods. When the police arrive, they find only one of the children gripping a tree trunk in terror, wearing blood-filled sneakers, and unable to recall a single detail of the previous hours.
Twenty years later, the found boy, Rob Ryan, is a detective on the Dublin Murder Squad and keeps his past a secret. But when a twelve-year-old girl is found murdered in the same woods, he and Detective Cassie Maddox—his partner and closest friend—find themselves investigating a case chillingly similar to the previous unsolved mystery. Now, with only snippets of long-buried memories to guide him, Ryan has the chance to uncover both the mystery of the case before him and that of his own shadowy past.
Richly atmospheric and stunning in its complexity, In the Woods is utterly convincing and surprising to the end.
Look for French's new mystery, The Trespasser, for more of the Dublin Murder Squad.
working out, and that I had said if he broke up with me I’d tell everyone he’d raped me. He said I’d threatened to go to the police, the papers, to ruin his life.” She looked for an ashtray, flicked ash, missed. It didn’t occur to me at the time to wonder why she was telling me this story, why now. This may seem strange, but everything did that month, strange and precarious. The moment when Cassie had said, “We’ll have it,” had set in motion some unstoppable tectonic shift; familiar things were
swear on anything you can think of, I’ve worked out how to deal with this case.” “Rob, remember how you said to kick you if you got too weird about this one? This is me kicking you. Metaphorically, for now.” “Look, give me one more week. If by the end of next week you think I’m still not handling this, I’ll swap with Sam. OK?” “OK,” Cassie said finally, though she still looked unconvinced. I was in such a good mood that this unexpected protective streak, which normally would have given me the
the telly guide backs them up. And the neighbor has a dog, one of those little shites that barks all night; he says he heard Hunt shouting out the window at it around one in the morning. Why he wouldn’t tell the little fucker to shut up himself…. He’s sure of the date because it was the day they got the new decking in—says the workmen upset the dog. I’m sending Einstein home, before he has me driven mental. It’s a two-horse race, lads.” “How’s Sam doing with Mark?” I asked. “Getting nowhere.
Tracksuit Shadow suspects and the grainy blowups of Peter and Jamie, picked the Blu-Tack off the backs and filed them away. Cassie checked each box, fitted a lid onto it and labeled it in squeaky black marker. Sam went around the room with a rubbish bag, collecting Styrofoam cups and emptying wastepaper baskets, brushing crumbs off the tables. There were smears of dried blood down the front of his shirt. His map of Knocknaree was starting to curl at the edges, and one corner ripped away as I
wall. Mark was organizing the archaeologists into some new activity, gesturing in big militant jerks like a traffic cop. I could hear Sean complaining vociferously about something, and everyone else yelling at him to shut up and stop skiving and get a grip. “I swear to God, Macker, if I find it on you, I’m going to shove it so far up your hole—” “Ooh, Sean’s PMS-ing.” “Have you checked up your hole?” “Maybe the cops took it away with them, Sean, better lie low for a while.” “Get to work,