By Dana Stabenow
In A Deeper Sleep, her first novel seeing that Blindfold online game, the stand-alone political mystery that made Dana Stabenow a brand new York instances bestseller, Stabenow returns to the preferred and award-winning Kate Shugak sequence. Kate, a personal investigator, has been engaged on a case for the Anchorage District legal professional related to the homicide of a tender girl through her husband, a guy named Louis Deem. Deem has been the topic of investigations earlier than, and he's by no means been convicted of a criminal offense. yet Kate and her on-again, off-again lover, country trooper Jim Chopin, who arrested Deem, are confident that this time it's diversified, and he'll eventually be punished for his activities. while the jury returns a verdict of now not accountable, Kate and Jim are devastated, and prefer the remainder of the electorate of Niniltna, Alaska, convinced guy has gotten away with homicide. They can't support yet imagine that it's just a subject of time ahead of he's within the body for one more killing. yes sufficient, a number of weeks later a taking pictures leaves lifeless in an obvious theft. yet this time Kate and Jim have a witness, and they're not likely to enable Louis Deem escape back. Or will he? Dana Stabenow, Edgar Award-winning writer and manhattan occasions bestselling mystery author, grants a gripping page-turner approximately one town's look for justice--at any rate.
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Extra resources for A Deeper Sleep (Kate Shugak, Book 15)
It was twenty yards to the hearse waiting at the curb: a long way. The funeral director, usually all smooth, inconspicuous moves and black-suited calm, clasped his hands in dismay. Confrontational funerals were poor advertising for the Elysian Glen Mortuary. He urged the pallbearers forward. Nikki lifted her chin and followed, her face like varnished wood, sunglasses hiding her swollen eyes. A snub-nosed woman jutted forward from the crowd. ‘‘Slut lovers! Queer lovers! ’’ Mourners deliberately looked past the protesters.
It was a six-foot-by-four-foot cartoon, reworking The Last Supper as a scene from Platoon. It showed Christ and the Apostles in combat fatigues, with camouflage paint striping their faces, weapons at the ready. Beneath the drawing ran the tagline: He’s back . . and this time, it’s scriptural. I gaped at it, appalled. Not because it depicted Jesus juiced on steroids and brandishing an M16. No. I stood horrified because it forced me to see the truth. Peter Wyoming did not speak in metaphors. He slapped the poster.
The Catholic Church was a lie, nothing but witchcraft. Latin was a lie. Yup, Latin, a pagan tongue, supposed to be a dead language—but it wasn’t dead; it’s been kept alive as . . what? As the language of law, and science, and the Mass, and sorcery. ’’ Mexican came out meskin. ‘‘Am I right? It’s not coincidence. Can’t you see, people, how they’re all connected? ’’ I felt the hair rising on the back of my neck. I turned, saw a young woman in the back row looking at me, a teenager whose Kewpie-doll mouth punctuated her moon-round face.