{"product_id":"bones-never-lie-with-bonus-novella-swamp-bones-isbn-9780345544032","title":"Bones Never Lie (with bonus novella Swamp Bones)","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES \u003c\/i\u003eBESTSELLER\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe evidence is irrefutable: In sixteen \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestsellers over the course of as many years, Kathy Reichs has proven herself “a genius at building suspense” (New York \u003ci\u003eDaily News\u003c\/i\u003e). In forensic anthropologist Temperance Brennan, Reichs has created a detective fiction heroine who’s brilliant to the bone. “Every minute in the morgue with Tempe is golden,” says \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review. \u003c\/i\u003eIn the acclaimed author’s thrilling new novel, Brennan is at the top of her game in a battle of wits against the most monstrous adversary she has ever encountered.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e 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.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e 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.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e In \u003ci\u003eBones Never Lie,\u003c\/i\u003e Kathy Reichs never fails to satisfy readers looking for psychological suspense that’s more than skin-deep.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003eDon’t miss Kathy Reichs’s short story “Swamp Bones” in the back of the book.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e“Kathy Reichs writes smart—no, make that brilliant—mysteries that are as realistic as nonfiction and as fast-paced as the best thrillers about Jack Reacher, or Alex Cross.”\u003cb\u003e—James Patterson\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Nobody does forensics thrillers like Kathy Reichs. She’s the real deal.”\u003cb\u003e—David Baldacci\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Kathy Reichs continues to be one of the most distinctive and talented writers in the genre. Her legion of readers worldwide will agree with me when I declare that the more books she writes, the more enthusiastic fans she’ll garner.”\u003cb\u003e—Sandra Brown\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Each book in Kathy Reichs’s fantastic Temperance Brennan series is better than the last. They’re filled with riveting twists and turns—and no matter how many books she writes, I just can’t get enough!”\u003cb\u003e—Lisa Scottoline\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I love Kathy Reichs‎—always scary, always suspenseful, and I always learn something.”\u003cb\u003e—Lee Child\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Reichs, a forensic anthropologist, makes her crime novels intriguingly realistic.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Entertainment Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Tempe Brennan is the lab lady most likely to dethrone Patricia Cornwell’s Kay Scarpetta.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—USA Today\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Reichs always delivers a pulse-pounding story.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Publishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for the novels of Kathy Reichs\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Kathy Reichs writes smart—no, make that brilliant—mysteries that are as realistic as nonfiction and as fast-paced as the best thrillers about Jack Reacher, or Alex Cross.”\u003cb\u003e—James Patterson\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Nobody does forensics thrillers like Kathy Reichs. She’s the real deal.”\u003cb\u003e—David Baldacci\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Kathy Reichs continues to be one of the most distinctive and talented writers in the genre. Her legion of readers worldwide will agree with me when I declare that the more books she writes, the more enthusiastic fans she’ll garner.”\u003cb\u003e—Sandra Brown\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Each book in Kathy Reichs’s fantastic Temperance Brennan series is better than the last. They’re filled with riveting twists and turns—and no matter how many books she writes, I just can’t get enough!”\u003cb\u003e—Lisa Scottoline\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I love Kathy Reichs‎—always scary, always suspenseful, and I always learn something.”\u003cb\u003e—Lee Child\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A genius at building suspense.”\u003cb\u003e—New York \u003ci\u003eDaily News\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Reichs, a forensic anthropologist, makes her crime novels intriguingly realistic.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Entertainment Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Tempe Brennan is the lab lady most likely to dethrone Patricia Cornwell’s Kay Scarpetta.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—USA Today\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Every minute in the morgue with Tempe is golden.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Reichs always delivers a pulse-pounding story.”\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Publishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eKathy Reichs \u003c\/b\u003eis the author of nineteen \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling novels and the co-author, with her son, Brendan Reichs, of six novels for young adults. Like the protagonist of her Temperance Brennan series, Reichs is a forensic anthropologist—one of fewer than one hundred ever certified by the American Board of Forensic Anthropology. A professor in the Department of Anthropology at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, she is a former vice president of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences. Reichs’s own life, as much as her novels, is the basis for the TV show \u003ci\u003eBones,\u003c\/i\u003e one of the longest-running series in the history of the Fox network.\u003cb\u003eChapter 1\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I received the message first thing Monday morning. Honor Barrow needed me at an unscheduled meeting.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Not what I wanted, with cold germs rolling up their sleeves in my head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Nevertheless, coming off a weekend of Sudafed, Afrin, and lemon-­honey tea, instead of finishing a report on a putrefied biker, I joined a billion others slogging uptown in rush-­hour traffic.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e By seven-­forty-­five, I was parked at the back of the Law Enforcement Center. The air was cool and smelled of sun-­dried leaves—­I assumed. My nose was so clogged, I couldn’t sniff out the difference between a tulip and a trash can.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The Democrats had held their quadrennial soirée in Charlotte in 2012. Tens of thousands came to praise or protest and to nominate a candidate. The city had spent $50 million on security, and as a result, the ground floor of the Law Enforcement Center, once an open lobby, now looked like the bridge of the starship Enterprise. Circular wooden barrier. Bulletproof glass. Monitors displaying the building’s every scar and pimple, inside and out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e After signing the register, I swiped my security card and rode to the second floor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Barrow was passing as the elevator hummed to a stop and opened. Beyond him, through the door he was entering, arrows on a green background directed Crimes Against Property to the left, Crimes Against Persons to the right. Above the arrows, the hornets’-­nest symbol of the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Thanks for coming in.” Barrow barely broke stride.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “No problem.” Except for the kettledrums in my head and the fire in my throat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I followed Barrow through the door, and we both turned right.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Detectives crowded the corridor in both directions, most in shirtsleeves and ties, one in khaki pants and a navy golf shirt featuring the intrepid wasp logo. Each carried coffee and a whole lot of firepower.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Barrow disappeared into a room on the left marked by a second green sign: 2220: Violent Crimes Division. Homicide and assault with a deadly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I continued straight, past a trio of interview rooms. From the nearest, a baritone bellowed indignation in strikingly inharmonious terms.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ten yards down I entered a room identified as 2101: Homicide Cold Case Unit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A gray table and six chairs took up most of the square footage. A copy machine. File cabinets. White erasable board and brown corkboards on the walls. In the rear, a low-­rise divider set off a desk holding the usual phone, mug, withered plant, and overfilled in-­ and out-­baskets. A window threw rectangles of sunlight across the blotter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Not a soul in sight. I glanced at the wall clock. 7:58.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Seriously? Only I had arrived on time?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Head pounding and slightly peeved, I dropped into a chair and placed my shoulder bag at my feet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e On the table were a laptop, a cardboard carton, and a plastic tub. Both containers bore numbers on their covers. The ones on the tub were in a format familiar to me: 090430070901. The file dated to April 30, 2009. A single call had come in at 7:09 a.m.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The numbering system on the carton was different. I assumed the case was from another jurisdiction.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A bit of background.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The Charlotte-­Mecklenburg Police Department had roughly five hundred unsolved murders dating back to 1970. Recognizing that this was lot of bodies and a lot of folks waiting for justice, in 2003 the CMPD established a cold case unit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Honor Barrow, twenty years at the murder table, had run the CCU since its inception. The other full-­timers included a police sergeant and an FBI agent. A volunteer review team composed of three retired FBI agents, a retired NYPD cop, a civilian academic, and a civilian engineer provided support in the form of pre-­investigation triage and analysis. The cold case unit regulars gathered monthly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As a forensic anthropologist, I work with the not so recently dead. No secret why I was sometimes invited to the dance. But I usually got a heads-­up about why my presence was being requested. A query concerning a set of remains. A question about bones, trauma, or decomposition.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Not this time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Impatient, and curious why I’d been summoned, I drew the tub to me and pried off the lid. Inside were hundreds of pages separated by dividers. I knew the headings on each of the tabs. Victimology. Summary of the Crime. Crime Scene Report. Evidence\/Property Collected\/Analyzed. Medical Examiner’s Report. Witnesses. Related Investigation. Potential Suspects. Recommended Follow-­up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lying across the files was a case review summary written by Claire Melani, a criminologist and colleague at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. I flipped to the first section of her report. And felt my neck muscles tense.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Before I could read further, voices sounded in the hall. Moments later, Barrow appeared with a guy looking like something off the cover of a survivalist manual. Washed-­out jeans. Faded army jacket over long-­sleeved red tee. Dark hair curling from below a neon-orange cap.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I replaced the report in its tub. “Everyone stuck in traffic?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “I didn’t invite the volunteer team.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Though that surprised me, I said nothing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Barrow noticed my gaze shift to the survivalist, and introduced him. “Detective Rodas is down from Vermont.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Umparo. Umpie to my friends.” Self-­deprecating smile. “Both of them.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Rodas extended a hand. I took it. Umpie’s grip matched his appearance, rough and strong.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As Barrow and Rodas took seats, a familiar figure framed up in the doorway. Erskine “Skinny” Slidell, cop legend in his own mind.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Can’t say Slidell’s presence thrilled me. Since Skinny works homicide, and I work the morgue, we are often thrown together. Over the years our relationship has had more ups and downs than a polygraph chart. His manner is often grating, but the man clears cases.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Slidell stretched both hands in a “What gives?” gesture and drew in one wrist to look at his watch. Subtle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Glad you could pry yourself free from the computer porn.” Smiling, Barrow hooked a chair free from the table with one foot.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “That sister of yours does love a camera.” Cushions hoofed as Slidell deposited his substantial derrière.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Barrow partnered with Slidell back in the eighties and, unlike most, claimed to have enjoyed the experience. Probably their shared concept of witty repartee.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Barrow had just introduced Rodas and Slidell to each other when the door swung out. A man I didn’t recognize entered the room. He had a weak chin and a too-­long nose and, standing ramrod, matched me in height. His polyester shirt, tie, and off-­the-­rack suit suggested midlevel management. His demeanor screamed cop. The four of us watched as polyester man took a place at the table.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Agent Tinker is SBI.” Barrow’s reference to the State Bureau of Investigation conveyed zero warmth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I’d heard of Beau Tinker. Intel had him as a narrow thinker with a mile-­wide ego. And a player with the ladies.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Don’t seem like such a long drive was warranted.” Slidell spoke without looking up from the fingers laced on his belly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Tinker regarded Slidell with eyes as gray and bland as unpolished pewter. “I’m right up the road at the Harrisburg field office.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Slidell’s jaw muscles bulged, but he said nothing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Like everywhere else on the planet, North Carolina has its share of interagency rivalries. Sheriff’s, campus, airport, and port police versus local PD’s. The state versus the city boys. The feds versus the world.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Except for some offenses in which it’s required—­such as drug trafficking, arson, gambling, and election fraud—­SBI involvement in criminal investigations was usually at the request of local departments. The chill coming from Barrow and Slidell suggested no such invite had been issued.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Was Rodas the draw? If so, why the interest in Raleigh about a case from Vermont?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Slidell considers himself a hot property in the homicide squad. Too hot to gasbag around a table, as he’d once put it. I also wondered why he was here.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I remembered the file in the plastic tub.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I glanced over at Slidell. His gaze was up now, aimed at Tinker with the kind of expression normally reserved for pedophiles and mold.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Did the hostility go beyond turf issues? Did Slidell share history with Tinker? Or was Skinny just being Skinny?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Barrow’s voice cut into my thoughts. “I’m going to let Detective Rodas start off.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Barrow leaned back and repositioned the neck chain holding his badge. He often reminded me of a large leathery turtle. Skin dark and crinkled as that on a shrunken head, eyes wide-­set and bulgy above a pointed little nose.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Rodas opened the carton, withdrew a stack of reports, and slid one to each of us. “Sorry if my style’s less formal than yours.” His voice was deep and gruff, the kind you associate with white cheddar and the Green Mountain Boys. “I’ll give you the rundown, then take questions on anything that’s unclear.”#1 New York Times bestselling author; First time in print: The novella Swamp Bones","brand":"Bantam","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301150445797,"sku":"NP9780345544032","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780345544032.jpg?v=1767722926","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/bones-never-lie-with-bonus-novella-swamp-bones-isbn-9780345544032","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}