Bones Never Lie (Temperance Brennan Series #17) [NOOK Book]

Overview

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

The evidence is irrefutable: In sixteen New York Times bestsellers over the course of as many years, Kathy Reichs has proven herself “a genius at building suspense” (New York Daily News). 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 The New York Times Book Review. In the acclaimed ...
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Bones Never Lie (Temperance Brennan Series #17)

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Overview

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

The evidence is irrefutable: In sixteen New York Times bestsellers over the course of as many years, Kathy Reichs has proven herself “a genius at building suspense” (New York Daily News). 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 The New York Times Book Review. In 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.
 
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 never fails to satisfy readers looking for psychological suspense that’s more than skin-deep.

Praise for the novels of Kathy Reichs
 
“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.”—James Patterson
 
“Nobody does forensics thrillers like Kathy Reichs. She’s the real deal.”—David Baldacci
 
“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.”—Sandra Brown
 
“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!”—Lisa Scottoline
 
“I love Kathy Reichs‎—always scary, always suspenseful, and I always learn something.”—Lee Child

“Reichs, a forensic anthropologist, makes her crime novels intriguingly realistic.”—Entertainment Weekly
 
“Tempe Brennan is the lab lady most likely to dethrone Patricia Cornwell’s Kay Scarpetta.”—USA Today
 
“Reichs always delivers a pulse-pounding story.”—Publishers Weekly


From the Hardcover edition.
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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
07/28/2014
In bestseller Reichs’s exciting, if overly complex, 17th novel featuring Temperance Brennan (after 2013’s Bones of the Lost), the forensic anthropologist attends a meeting at the Law Enforcement Center in Charlotte, N.C., at which Vermont detective Umparo Rodas presents DNA evidence linking the unsolved murder of an 11-year-old Charlotte girl to Canadian serial killer Anique Pomerleau, who managed to elude Brennan and her superior, lead detective Andrew Ryan, in 2004’s Monday Mourning. Brennan first has to find Ryan, who has withdrawn from the world, and persuade him to return to find Pomerleau. Tie-ins with other old cases, signs that the killer is targeting Brennan’s own neighborhood, and Brennan’s skill at interpreting confusing, potentially misleading forensic evidence build the suspense. Brennan’s strained relations with Ryan, the antics of crass detective Erskine “Skinny” Slidell, and the uncanny aid provided by Brennan’s mother, Daisy, provide grist for series fans when Brennan finally unmasks a surprising killer. Agent: Jennifer Rudolph Walsh, William Morris Endeavor. (Sept.)
From the Publisher
Praise for the novels of Kathy Reichs
 
“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.”—James Patterson
 
“Nobody does forensics thrillers like Kathy Reichs. She’s the real deal.”—David Baldacci
 
“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.”—Sandra Brown
 
“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!”—Lisa Scottoline
 
“I love Kathy Reichs‎—always scary, always suspenseful, and I always learn something.”—Lee Child

“A genius at building suspense.”—New York Daily News
 
“Reichs, a forensic anthropologist, makes her crime novels intriguingly realistic.”—Entertainment Weekly
 
“Tempe Brennan is the lab lady most likely to dethrone Patricia Cornwell’s Kay Scarpetta.”—USA Today
 
“Every minute in the morgue with Tempe is golden.”The New York Times Book Review
 
“Reichs always delivers a pulse-pounding story.”—Publishers Weekly

Library Journal
03/15/2014
In forensic anthropologist Temperance "Tempe" Brennan's 17th outing, our heroine moves in a new, undisclosed direction, but we do get to meet her much-referenced mother. Look for the splashy acetate cover over a preprinted case.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780345544025
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 9/23/2014
  • Series: Temperance Brennan Series , #17
  • Sold by: Random House
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 336
  • Sales rank: 202
  • File size: 4 MB

Meet the Author

Kathy Reichs
Kathy Reichs is the author of sixteen New York Times bestselling novels featuring forensic anthropologist Temperance Brennan. Like her protagonist, 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 the former vice president of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences and serves on the National Police Services Advisory Council in Canada. Reichs’s own life, as much as her novels, is the basis for the TV show Bones, one of the longest-running series in the history of the Fox network.
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    1. Also Known As:
      Kathleen J. Reichs (full name)
    2. Hometown:
      Charlotte, North Carolina and Montreal, Québec
    1. Education:
      B.A., American University, 1971; M.A., Ph.D., Northwestern University
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

9780345544018|excerpt

Reichs / BONES NEVER LIE

Chapter

1

I received the message first thing Monday morning. Honor Barrow needed me at an unscheduled meeting.

Not what I wanted, with cold germs rolling up their sleeves in my head.

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.

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.

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.

After signing the register, I swiped my security card and rode to the second floor.

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.

“Thanks for coming in.” Barrow barely broke stride.

“No problem.” Except for the kettledrums in my head and the fire in my throat.

I followed Barrow through the door, and we both turned right.

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.

Barrow disappeared into a room on the left marked by a second green sign: 2220: Violent Crimes Division. Homicide and assault with a deadly.

I continued straight, past a trio of interview rooms. From the nearest, a baritone bellowed indignation in strikingly inharmonious terms.

Ten yards down I entered a room identified as 2101: Homicide Cold Case Unit.

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.

Not a soul in sight. I glanced at the wall clock. 7:58.

Seriously? Only I had arrived on time?

Head pounding and slightly peeved, I dropped into a chair and placed my shoulder bag at my feet.

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.

The numbering system on the carton was different. I assumed the case was from another jurisdiction.

A bit of background.

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.

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.

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.

Not this time.

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.

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.

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.

I replaced the report in its tub. “Everyone stuck in traffic?”

“I didn’t invite the volunteer team.”

Though that surprised me, I said nothing.

Barrow noticed my gaze shift to the survivalist, and introduced him. “Detective Rodas is down from Vermont.”

“Umparo. Umpie to my friends.” Self-­deprecating smile. “Both of them.”

Rodas extended a hand. I took it. Umpie’s grip matched his appearance, rough and strong.

As Barrow and Rodas took seats, a familiar figure framed up in the doorway. Erskine “Skinny” Slidell, cop legend in his own mind.

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.

Slidell stretched both hands in a “What gives?” gesture and drew in one wrist to look at his watch. Subtle.

“Glad you could pry yourself free from the computer porn.” Smiling, Barrow hooked a chair free from the table with one foot.

“That sister of yours does love a camera.” Cushions hoofed as Slidell deposited his substantial derrière.

Barrow partnered with Slidell back in the eighties and, unlike most, claimed to have enjoyed the experience. Probably their shared concept of witty repartee.

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.

“Agent Tinker is SBI.” Barrow’s reference to the State Bureau of Investigation conveyed zero warmth.

I’d heard of Beau Tinker. Intel had him as a narrow thinker with a mile-­wide ego. And a player with the ladies.

“Don’t seem like such a long drive was warranted.” Slidell spoke without looking up from the fingers laced on his belly.

Tinker regarded Slidell with eyes as gray and bland as unpolished pewter. “I’m right up the road at the Harrisburg field office.”

Slidell’s jaw muscles bulged, but he said nothing.

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.

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.

Was Rodas the draw? If so, why the interest in Raleigh about a case from Vermont?

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.

I remembered the file in the plastic tub.

I glanced over at Slidell. His gaze was up now, aimed at Tinker with the kind of expression normally reserved for pedophiles and mold.

Did the hostility go beyond turf issues? Did Slidell share history with Tinker? Or was Skinny just being Skinny?

Barrow’s voice cut into my thoughts. “I’m going to let Detective Rodas start off.”

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.

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.”

I started flipping through pages. Heard Tinker and Slidell doing the same.

“Between two-­thirty and three p.m., on October 18, 2007, a twelve-­year-­old white female named Nellie Gower disappeared while riding her bicycle home from school. Six hours later, the bike was found on a rural two-­lane a quarter mile from the Gower farm.”

A nuance in tone caused me to look up. Rodas’s Adam’s apple made a round-trip before he continued. “Nellie’s body was discovered eight days later at a granite quarry four miles outside town.”

I noted that Rodas was using the child’s name, not depersonalizing, as cops often do—­the kid, the vic. It didn’t take Freud to recognize that Rodas was emotionally invested in the case.

“The ME found no signs of trauma or sexual assault. The child was fully clothed. Manner of death went down as homicide, cause as unknown. The scene yielded nothing. Ditto the body. No tire tracks, no trace, no blood or saliva, no forensics at all.

“The usual persons were interviewed—­registered sex offenders, parents and relatives, friends, friends’ families, neighbors, babysitters, a Girl Scout leader, those working at the school, the church, the community center. Anyone with even the remotest link to the victim.”

Rodas dug spirals of bound three-­by-­fives from the tub and winged them around the table croupier-­style. Went silent as each of us viewed the grim cards we’d been dealt.

The first several prints showed the quarry. A leaden sky overhung an expanse of rock and soil bereft of trees. On the left, a gravel road climbed from the foreground toward a ragged horizon.

Temporary barricades had been set up along the road. Parked behind them were cars, pickups, and media vans. Drivers and passengers stood in twos and threes. Some conversing, others staring across the sawhorses or looking at the ground. A number wore T-­shirts printed with the words Find Nellie above the face of a smiling adolescent.

I knew the players. Samaritans who’d devoted hours to searching and to answering phones. Gawkers eager for a glimpse of a body bag. Journalists seeking the best slant on another human tragedy.

Inside the barrier were cruisers, a crime scene truck, a coroner’s van, and a pair of unmarked cars, each angled as though suddenly frozen in flight. I recognized the usual responders. Evidence and coroner’s techs. A woman in a windbreaker with Medical Examiner printed in yellow block letters on the back. Cops in uniform, one with his head cocked to speak into a shoulder radio.

A canopy had been erected at center stage. Below the blue plastic, yellow tape stretched from pole to pole, forming a rough rectangle. Enclosed in the rectangle was a painfully small mound. Rodas squatted beside it, face grim, notepad in hand.

The next series focused on the child. Nellie Gower lay on her back, legs straight, arms tight to her torso. Her red wool jacket was zipped to her chin. Her sneaker laces were looped in symmetrical bows. The bottom of a polka-­dot blouse was neatly tucked into bright pink jeans.

Several photos framed the face printed on the tees. No smile now.

Nellie’s hair covered her shoulders in long chocolate waves. I noted that it was parted down the center of her scalp and evenly draped, as though combed and arranged.

Eight days of exposure had wrought the inevitable. The child’s features were bloated, her skin mottled purple and green. A maggot mass filled her mouth and each of her nostrils.

The last three shots were close-­ups of the child’s right hand. Dotting the palm were traces of a filmy white substance.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“CSS bagged both hands. The ME swabbed her skin and scraped under her nails. The trace guys thought it might have been remnants of a tissue.”

I nodded, still staring at the photos. Synapses were firing in my brain. I remembered another child. Another set of heartbreaking photos.

I knew why I’d been called. Why Skinny was here.

“Sonofabitch.”

Rodas ignored Slidell’s outburst. “We got a few leads, phone tips, a witness saying a teacher showed unusual interest in Nellie, a neighbor claiming he saw her in a truck with a bearded man. Nothing panned out. Eventually, the case went cold. We’re a small department. I had to move on. You know how it is.”

Rodas looked at Slidell, then Barrow. Met eyes that knew only too well. “But it ate at me. Kid like that. Whenever I had spare time, I’d pull the file, hoping to spot something I missed.”

Again, the Adam’s-­apple bob. “According to all accounts, Nellie was timid. Careful. Not likely to go with a stranger. We all believed the perp was local. Someone she knew. I guess we got channeled on that.

“Last year I figured what the hell. Think outside the box. I tried VICAP.”

Rodas was referring to the FBI’s Violent Criminal Apprehension Program, a national database maintained to collect and analyze information about homicides, sexual assaults, missing persons, and other violent crimes. The repository contains approximately 150,000 open and closed investigations submitted by some 3,800 state and local agencies, and includes cold cases dating as far back as the 1950s.

“I entered what we had, MO, signature aspects, crime scene descriptors and photos, victim details. Took weeks to get a response. Then damned if our profile didn’t match an unsolved here in Charlotte.”

“The Nance kid.” Slidell spoke through barely parted lips.

“Never got a collar on that one.” Tinker’s first words since telling Slidell he was posted locally.

Slidell opened his mouth to reply. Apparently reconsidered and closed it.

I glanced at the tub. 090417091201. Lizzie Nance. Skinny’s own gut-­eating failure.

On April 17, 2009, Elizabeth Ellen “Lizzie” Nance left a ballet class, heading for her mother’s apartment three blocks away. She never made it home. Media coverage was massive. Hundreds turned out to answer tip lines, post flyers, and search the woods and ponds near Lizzie’s complex. To no avail.

Two weeks after Lizzie’s disappearance, a decomposed body was found at a nature preserve northwest of Charlotte. The corpse lay supine with feet together, arms tucked to its sides. A black leotard, tights, and pink cotton underwear still wrapped the putrefied flesh. Bright blue Crocs still covered the feet. Residue found under a thumbnail was identified later as common facial tissue.

Slidell led the homicide investigation. I analyzed the bones.

Though I spent days bending over a scope, I spotted not a single nick, cut, or fracture anywhere on the skeleton. Tim Larabee, the Mecklenburg County medical examiner, was unable to establish definitively whether sexual assault had occurred. Manner of death went down as homicide, cause as unknown.

Lizzie Nance died when she was eleven years old.

“Fortunately, Honor had also entered his unsolved. The system picked up the similarities.” Rodas raised both hands. “So here I am.”

A moment of silence filled the room. Tinker broke it. “That’s it? Two girls roughly the same age? Still wearing their clothes?”

No one responded.

“Wasn’t the Nance kid too far gone to exclude rape?”

Palming the table, Slidell leaned toward Tinker. I cut him off.

“The autopsy report noted complicating factors. But the child’s clothing was in place, and Dr. Larabee was confident in concluding there’d been no rape.”

Tinker shrugged, not realizing or not caring that his cavalier attitude was offending everyone. “Seems weak.”

“It’s not just the VICAP profile that brings me to Charlotte,” Rodas continued. “By the time we found Nellie, her body had been rained on for a day and a half. Her clothes were saturated with a mixture of water and decomp runoff. Though not optimistic, I submitted everything to our forensics lab up in Waterbury for testing. To my surprise, some DNA had survived.”

“All hers,” Slidell guessed.

“Yes.” Rodas placed his forearms on the table and leaned in. “Eighteen months ago, I went over the file yet again. This time I caught something I thought could be a break. The residue from Nellie’s hand hadn’t been submitted with her clothing. I phoned the ME; she found the scrapings taken at autopsy by her predecessor. Knowing it was a long shot, I had her send them up to Waterbury.”

Rodas looked straight at me.

I looked straight back.

“The material contained DNA not belonging to Nellie.”

“You sent the profile through the system?” Tinker asked the unnecessary question.

Rodas chin-­cocked the report in my hands. “Take a look at the section marked ‘Updated DNA Results,’ Dr. Brennan.”

Curious why I’d been singled out, I did as instructed.

Read a name.

Felt the flutter of adrenaline hitting my gut.

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Customer Reviews

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 24 Customer Reviews
  • Posted October 20, 2014

    Bones Never Lie is the seventeenth book in the popular Temperanc

    Bones Never Lie is the seventeenth book in the popular Temperance Brennan series by American forensic anthropologist and author, Kathy Reichs. Tempe is summoned to the Cold Case Unit in Charlotte when victim characteristics (pre-pubescent teenaged girls), posed corpses, undetermined cause of death and DNA evidence point to coldblooded serial killer, Anique Pomerleau, a woman suspected of murders that Tempe and Detective Andrew Ryan investigated ten years earlier in Montreal. Ryan’s input is needed, but he has disappeared in reaction to his daughter’s untimely death. The condition of Tempe’s mother, Daisy is another distraction from the case, which itself becomes more urgent with the disappearance of another young teen. Added to this is the friction between Slidell of the CMPD and Agent Tinker of the SBI, involved for political reasons. With assistance from a surprising quarter, Tempe tracks down Ryan and somehow induces him to assist. 
    The investigation sees Tempe travelling to Montreal, Vermont and back to Charlotte as more previously missing teens are found to fit the description and a pattern emerges. While there is less about bones in this instalment, there are still several interesting items explored: the use of lip prints; preservation of bodies in syrup; carbon monoxide poisoning; and a rare genetic disorder that acts as a red herring in the investigation. Suspects keep turning up dead, leading to more than one anti-climax, and there is an unexpected shooting. There are plenty of twists and turns in the plot before the breath-taking climax is reached. 
    Readers will welcome the return of Detective Ryan with his clever quips: the snappy banter between Ryan and Tempe has always been an enjoyable feature of these novels. The introduction of the smart and sassy Daisy Brennan is a (hopefully not-too-short-lived) delight. Reichs will also please many fans with a surprise in the final pages and once again proves she is at the top of her game with this excellent page-turner.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted October 1, 2014

    more from this reviewer

    Another terrific addition to the Temperance Brennan series by Ka

    Another terrific addition to the Temperance Brennan series by Kathy Reichs. These books are always intelligent suspenseful and mind boggling.  Bones Never Lie continues this tradition.  A case from the past rises to haunt Tempe.  She is pushed to find Andrew Ryan and bring him back to the land of the living so they find the killer or killers before they can strike again.
    I never fail to learn something new whenever I read this series.  These books are fast paced and addictive and always worth a read.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted September 25, 2014

    more from this reviewer

    This is the first book by Reichs that I've read. I received a co

    This is the first book by Reichs that I've read. I received a complimentary advance copy from the Random House Reader’s  Circle program and decided what the heck, I’d go ahead and read it even though it was book 17 in the series. I’ve watched “Bones” for years but had held off reading the book series until the TV series was a done deal. I have, however, listened to two audio books in this series recently so had a picture of Tempe, Slidell, and Ryan in my head. After reading “Bones Never Lie”, I’m setting out to read the first 16 books in this series as it was freaking awesome. These two different formats of the character Tempe Brennan are so totally different that I really hate that I did not pick up these books earlier. Other than at a very basic level are they similar, though I do think they complement each other very nicely. 
         I generally don’t like to read a series  of books  while watching the TV show or movies. Neither will I normally read them out of order but these two are different enough that one will not ruin the other and this book was so entertaining that the order simply didn’t matter. Yeah, you would know the back-story with Ryan but it’s really not necessary as Ryan has only a minor role in most of this book. 




         Reichs forensic details are not mind numbing and her characters are often witty and human in a way that makes them so credible. The murders takes place in Montreal, Vermont and Charlotte, NC and extend over 14 years. The suspected killer, Pomerleau (the only one who got away) nearly killed Brennan years earlier when she was working this case in Montreal and all signs point to her involvement again though there was a very nice twist that I definitely did not see coming. I get the feeling that you generally do not know who the killer is early on in these stories but with the surprise ending, this so worked. Once starting this book, I read it in one day as I could not stand to put it down. Each chapter just flowed so well into the next one that it was impossible to lay it aside. It was fast paced, scary and twisty enough to keep you reading long after you should have been in bed. I’m so looking forward to starting this series from the beginning so I can enjoy many more hours with Tempe, Ryan, Slidell and Birdie. It’s not often that you get a chance to start an ongoing series with such a fascinating cast and story-lines.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 21, 2014

    Just okay.

    Too much detail for me. The story gets lost in the details.

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  • Posted October 17, 2014

    recommended

    This was good and kept your interest the whole time.

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  • Posted October 17, 2014

    more from this reviewer

    I loved this book! I love Kathy Reichs writing. I love her Tem

    I loved this book! I love Kathy Reichs writing. I love her Temperance Brennan Series and her TV show Bones. I read all of her books over and over again! A+++++ as usual for another great book!!!

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  • Posted October 17, 2014

    Terrific Lie

    Bones Never Lie is well worth your time. You won't be able to put it down.
    Ecole

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 17, 2014

    highly recommended- great story, unexpected ending

    I lover the book, great storyline, glad Andrew was back, unexpected ending, but cannot wait to see where that goes and what it can bring to the next book, Kathy Reichs is an awesome author, love all the little details that make the book more interesting

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  • Posted October 15, 2014

    While I enjoyed this book, I was a little disappointed at the la

    While I enjoyed this book, I was a little disappointed at the lack of much forensic anthropology in it, which is what I expect in a Reichs book. But I like detective stories, too, and this fit the bill nicely with lots of twists and turns. What keeps me from giving it a 5 star rating, though, is that I thought it was obvious that an MIA girl was involved somehow and was a little frustrated that Tempe and Ryan didn't catch on earlier. I also thought it was obvious that Tempe's neighbor would get caught up in the mess. Additionally, I found all the references to elusive things "firing" in Tempe's brain a little tiresome.

    But I went everywhere with this book for a few days, catching reading moments when I could, and for me, that's a sign of a good book. Recommended.

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  • Posted October 12, 2014

    Not her best. While the ending was pleasing, it was so out of le

    Not her best. While the ending was pleasing, it was so out of left field considering the interaction throughout the book. Also the inappropriate actions by the police in which Brennan was a party were troubling.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 10, 2014

    The "ick-factor" in this formatic grafic violence series

    Gets worse each each time. as a minor reviewer for our small institution library with large recycle donations I scan first and last chapter when in doubt e g will just take up space. Now i just cull and put in the FL book sale box along wth any one about vampires. The cowboy le amoures go big as do any bios and auto bios and the new spiritual genre and local authors which we try to get come and speak after lunch and before bingo on friday. If you like this kind of book.........you will like this and i am sorry for you

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 7, 2014

    My favorite book of all of Kathy Reichs!! Loved it and could not

    My favorite book of all of Kathy Reichs!! Loved it and could not put it down!!!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 28, 2014

    Thanks a whole lot for 13!!! pages in the free preview. This

    reminds me why I don't bother. Next stop library - not this piece of crap service.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 26, 2014

    Predictable and Frustrating

    I have read all of Reich's books and they were all great. This one was no exception. The writing is excellent and the science adds an interesting element to the story.

    The problem with this latest installment of the Tempe Brennan story is that it is incredibly predictable. I had already figured out who the bad guy was less than halfway through the story. That is unusual for a Reichs book. I kept waiting for Tempe to get with the program. Normally the character is not that stupid. That made the book a very frustrating read. Stephanie Clanahan

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 6, 2014

    Ruby

    Next res.

    0 out of 12 people found this review helpful.

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    Posted September 28, 2014

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    Posted September 30, 2014

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    Posted October 2, 2014

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    Posted October 17, 2014

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 26, 2014

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