Cry Wolf [NOOK Book]

Overview

The scream heard by no one is the deadliest.

In the rural parishes of Louisiana's French Triangle, young women are disappearing one by one, only to turn up on the banks of the bayou, strangled and cast aside where they are sure to be found. But there is one trophy the killer prizes above all others, one woman who must be silenced forever....

Attorney Laurel Chandler did not...
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Cry Wolf

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Overview

The scream heard by no one is the deadliest.

In the rural parishes of Louisiana's French Triangle, young women are disappearing one by one, only to turn up on the banks of the bayou, strangled and cast aside where they are sure to be found. But there is one trophy the killer prizes above all others, one woman who must be silenced forever....

Attorney Laurel Chandler did not come back to Bayou Breaux to seek justice. That once-burning obsession had destroyed her credibility, her career, her marriage—and nearly her sanity. But when a ruthless predator strikes too close to home, she's lured into a perverse game from which there may be no escape. Once before, Laurel's cries against a monstrous evil went unanswered. Who will listen now?

From the Paperback edition.

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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
As in her last romantic mystery, Still Waters , Hoag creates a pair of lovers who are so awful that they deserve each other. But this time she factors in an offensive theme: bad boys are to be tolerated, but bad girls are to be raped, mutilated and strangled. The ``bad boy'' is the hero, horror writer Jack Boudreaux. With antics like crashing a Corvette and swatting a smarmy evangelist preacher with a bag of fish, Jack charms Laurel Chandler. Laurel has returned to her hometown, Bayou Breaux, La., to lick her wounds after she blew a case involving child sexual abuse, lost her public prosecutor's job and suffered a breakdown. But matters are grim on the home front, where a serial killer is haunting young women, and Savannah, Laurel's man-loving sister, is becoming increasingly unstable. Despite Laurel's anguish over losing her child abuse case, her reaction to Savannah's problem--also rooted in abuse by a stepfather--is, ``If I'd known, I don't think I would have come back now.'' Eventually Savannah sniffs around the wrong man and is murdered. Then Laurel is all tears and determination to find the killer. (Aug.)
From the Publisher
"A master of the genre."—Publishers Weekly
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780553898491
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 12/30/2003
  • Sold by: Random House
  • Format: eBook
  • Sales rank: 25,658
  • File size: 665 KB

Meet the Author

Tami Hoag
Bestselling author Tami Hoag’s novels have appeared regularly on national bestseller lists since the publication of her first book in 1988. She lives in Los Angeles.


From the Paperback edition.
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Read an Excerpt

Prologue


The bateau slides through the still waters of the bayou. Still, black waters as dark as the night sky. As dark as the heart of a killer. In the water stand the cypress, rank upon rank, tall sentinels as motionless and silent as death. Behind them, on the banks, the weeping willows, boughs bowed as if by grief, and the live oak with their twisted trunks and gnarled branches, looking like enchanted things eternally frozen in a moment of agony. And from their contorted limbs hangs the moss, gray and dusty and tattered, like old feather boas left to rot in the attic of some long-forgotten, long-ruined mansion.

All is gray and black in the night in the swamp. The absence of light, the reflection of light. A sliver of moon is wedged between high clouds, then disappears. Stillness descends all around as the boat passes. Eyes peer out from the reeds, from the trees, from just above the surface of the water Night is the time of the hunter and the hunted. But all the creatures wait as the bateau slips past them, its motor purring, low and throaty, like a panther's growl. The air of expectation thickens like the mist that hovers between the trunks of the tupelo and sweet gum trees.

One predator has struck the night, cunning and vicious with no motivation but the thrill of holding another's life and savoring the power to snuff it out. The creatures of the swamp watch as the predator passes, as the scent of fresh blood mingles with the rank, metallic aroma of the bayou1 and the sweet perfume of wild honeysuckle, jasmine, and verbena.

The motor dies. The boat skirts a raft of water hyacinth noses through the cattails and lily pads, and sidles up to the muddy bank, where ferns and creepers grow in a tangled skein. Somewhere in the distance a scream tears through the fabric of the night. Like an echo. Like a memory. The predator smiles, fondly, slyly, thinking not of the nutria that issued the sound, but of the woman lying dead on the floor of the bateau.

Another kill. Another rush. Another dizzying high. Power, more seductive than sex, more addictive than cocaine. Blood, warm and silky, sweet as wine. The pulse of life rushing with fear, pounding, frantic . . . ebbing, dying.

The body is dragged to the bank, left near the end of a crushed clamshell path that glows powdery white as the moon flashes down once again like a searchlight—there and gone, there and gone. Its beam illuminates a dark head of hair, damp and disheveled with no trace of the style that had been so painstakingly sculpted and sprayed hours ago; a face, ghostly pale, cheeks rouged clownishly, lipstick smeared, mouth slack, eyes open and staring, unseeing, up at the heavens. Looking for mercy, looking for deliverance. Too late for either.

She will be found. In a day, maybe two. Fishermen will come to fill their creels with bream, bluegill, sac-a-lait. They will find her. But none will find her killer.

Too cunning, too clever, beyond the laws of man, outside the realm of suspicion this predator stalks...


From the Paperback edition.
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First Chapter

Prologue

The bateau slides through the still waters of the bayou. Still, black waters as dark as the night sky. As dark as the heart of a killer. In the water stand the cypress, rank upon rank, tall sentinels as motionless and silent as death. Behind them, on the banks, the weeping willows, boughs bowed as if by grief, and the live oak with their twisted trunks and gnarled branches, looking like enchanted things eternally frozen in a moment of agony. And from their contorted limbs hangs the moss, gray and dusty and tattered, like old feather boas left to rot in the attic of some long-forgotten, long-ruined mansion.

All is gray and black in the night in the swamp. The absence of light, the reflection of light. A sliver of moon is wedged between high clouds, then disappears. Stillness descends all around as the boat passes. Eyes peer out from the reeds, from the trees, from just above the surface of the water Night is the time of the hunter and the hunted. But all the creatures wait as the bateau slips past them, its motor purring, low and throaty, like a panther's growl. The air of expectation thickens like the mist that hovers between the trunks of the tupelo and sweet gum trees.

One predator has struck the night, cunning and vicious with no motivation but the thrill of holding another's life and savoring the power to snuff it out. The creatures of the swamp watch as the predator passes, as the scent of fresh blood mingles with the rank, metallic aroma of the bayou1 and the sweet perfume of wild honeysuckle, jasmine, and verbena.

The motor dies. The boat skirts a raft of water hyacinth noses through the cattails and lily pads, and sidles up to themuddy bank, where ferns and creepers grow in a tangled skein. Somewhere in the distance a scream tears through the fabric of the night. Like an echo. Like a memory. The predator smiles, fondly, slyly, thinking not of the nutria that issued the sound, but of the woman lying dead on the floor of the bateau.

Another kill. Another rush. Another dizzying high. Power, more seductive than sex, more addictive than cocaine. Blood, warm and silky, sweet as wine. The pulse of life rushing with fear, pounding, frantic . . . ebbing, dying.

The body is dragged to the bank, left near the end of a crushed clamshell path that glows powdery white as the moon flashes down once again like a searchlight—there and gone, there and gone. Its beam illuminates a dark head of hair, damp and disheveled with no trace of the style that had been so painstakingly sculpted and sprayed hours ago; a face, ghostly pale, cheeks rouged clownishly, lipstick smeared, mouth slack, eyes open and staring, unseeing, up at the heavens. Looking for mercy, looking for deliverance. Too late for either.

She will be found. In a day, maybe two. Fishermen will come to fill their creels with bream, bluegill, sac-a-lait. They will find her. But none will find her killer.

Too cunning, too clever, beyond the laws of man, outside the realm of suspicion this predator stalks...
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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 98 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(66)

4 Star

(15)

3 Star

(6)

2 Star

(6)

1 Star

(5)

Your Rating:

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 98 Customer Reviews
  • Posted June 12, 2012

    Disappointed!

    Did not hold my interest. Very boring.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted November 21, 2009

    Ugh!

    Though not quite finished reading, I offer these thoughts: Two stars because it's Tami Hoag and I usually like her books. This is the weakest of nine I've read (copyright date 1993, not a recent effort). Another reviewer mentioned frustration with the unevenness of the characters and I concur. I prefer heroines with great strength. Lauren is abysmal. "Fragile" is used to describe her way too often.

    Read something by Suzanne Brockmann! Check her out at your local library or order from B/N. :)

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 28, 1999

    Wonderfully Written

    Cry Wolf was a great book. I think it was wonderfully written. I also think it was an equal to Still Waters and Dark Paridise. But much better than A Thin Dark Line. Her books keep you reading. You think you no who the killer is but in the end your guess is all wrong. Tami Hoag writes wonderful characters. I think out of all the books I've read of Tami Hoag's, this one is the best. It was full of suspense and romance. I think it is an outstanding book.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 28, 2013

    Cry Wolf

    One of my all time favorites. I pick this book up every time I am between books and nothing good has come out recently. Its funny, suspenseful, romantic

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted March 11, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    One of my favorite books!

    I really enjoyed Cry Wolf. My favorite books my Tami Hoag are the ones that take place in Lousiana. I am reading A Thin Line right now and it is very good as well.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 19, 2007

    Huh...?!?

    I must not be reading the same book. I couldn't even finish it. The main characters don't know if they want to be strong, weak, sexy, hard to get, pitiful or determined, and there isn't enough suspense..at least not enough in the 300 some pages I have read. I usually buy books after reading the reviews but this time I was very disappointed.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 18, 2014

    Dc

    ...well he wont cause his dad is a wh.ore. i look away.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 18, 2014

    Tragic

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 4, 2014

    Deago

    She nods then dives into the water and swims.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 4, 2014

    D.J.

    I will be at ethics.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 1, 2014

    Wut the heck

    How do you guys bring up warrior cats i know they are good books but no nonsense roleplay geez

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 23, 2013

    Sikverclaw

    Btw im changing my name to silverfang and i love those names

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 23, 2013

    Nightsky

    Silver tom with green eyes-Moonkit.
    Black shecat with white paws and blue eyes-Waterkit. Red with yellow eyes-Flamekit.
    Silver and black tom kit with white spots and yellow eyes-Silkkit.
    Black and white shecat with blue eyes-Patchkit.
    Fluffy white tom with green eyes-Fuzzykit.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 19, 2013

    Read

    Hey are you a girl cause i am. Please write back. Are you reading this on a nook? If so do you want to be buds! I don't have any yet:( that means you will be my first nook friend! YAY!!!!! And i'm 11.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 23, 2013

    Warrior den

    Warrior den

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted November 27, 2012

    Violetsongs story chapter eight

    Violetpaw looked at Dustypaw. It had been only days after she had returned him to the clan. She looked at thia closer. It was ovious he was hungry( she noticed him take more fresh kill then his share) He wasnt used to the terrain( he was padding funny) and hunting and fighting didnt interst him anymore. He slacked his duties and became sullen and irritable. He wasnt the same she noticed sadly her heart growing heavier each day. One day she heard shouts " The Fireclan Warriors are attacking! " She ran to help and she tussled with an apprentice as they rolled in the dirt. Suddenly out of the corner of her eye she saw Dustypaw cower as a large muscular tom approached the nursury. Oh no. The tom swiped at Dustypaw and got right paat him. Dustypaw slumped his shoulders and didnt try to fight. A queen named Goldenoak shrieked " My kit! Lilackit! " the tm ran followed by his warriors who were now struggling to fend off the blueclan warriors now. Violetpaw saw as Cedarstar took Dustypaw aside his face grim. Violetpaw sighed and felt Bearpaws tail on her shoulder. " Maybe hes kittypet now?" He asked. " Never!" Cried Violetpaw. That evening as the sky turned red and the crickets chirped Violetpaw sat by Dustypaw . " hello?"he looked at her his eyes dull. " Violet..............can i ask a favor of you?" " sure" she replied openly. " Take me back. To the twoleg place. Perhaps it is immoral but I am not a warrior. Being a kittypet is so easy"." Whaaaat? Why.? Dustypaw! Thats disgraceful! Shame on you!" She cried. He took no notice and countinued. " You saw what happend today. I hurt an innocent kit" " Oh dear dont worry we found er and she is safe and in the nursury now! She assured him. " Violetpaw take me back. I hate it here" he said bitterly. " Dustypaw ! "She cried tearfully before running away from him into Bearpaws warmth.
    Later that night the clouds dimmed the moon and curled around it like smoke. She set off silently to the twoloeg place. Her eyes dulll. As dustypaw prepared to climb the fence. He called" I wont forget you sister. Good bye" And he scampered away not looking back. Tears burned her eys as she ran all the way back to her nest.

    0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 4, 2012

    Excelent reading

    I highly recommend this book, it is fast pace, keeps your interest all the way. She is an excellent writer and I really enjoy reading her books and especially this one.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 2, 2012

    Mystic

    No!! *turns into a bird and flys to the momster lightningstrike is in and trys to peel it open with her talons

    0 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 3, 2012

    Lightningstrike

    She trotted into camp, tired but happy. "Riverpool!" She shouted. "Look at our kits!" She nuzzled all three of them. "The black one is Shadowkit, the silvery one Starkit, and the gray with lighter stripes is Smokekit." She brought them to her den and curled up, letting them suckle. She purred and smiled. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"

    0 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 29, 2012

    Had to put it down . . . .

    I've never read any of Hoag's novel's before, but after this I'm not tempted. It was slow going at first, but I thought it would improve. Not. More about sex-starved sister than a mystery plot of any sort. If you love this author, carry on, but if you're unsure, better read some more reviews before you buy.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 98 Customer Reviews

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