Let the Devil Sleep (Dave Gurney, No. 3): A Novel [NOOK Book]

Overview

In this latest novel from bestselling author John Verdon, ingenious puzzle solver Dave Gurney puts under the magnifying glass a notorious serial murder case – one whose motives have been enshrined as law-enforcement dogma - and discovers that everyone has it wrong.
 
The most decorated homicide detective in NYPD history, Dave Gurney is still trying to adjust to his life of quasi-retirement in upstate New York when a young woman who is...
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Let the Devil Sleep (Dave Gurney, No. 3): A Novel

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Overview

In this latest novel from bestselling author John Verdon, ingenious puzzle solver Dave Gurney puts under the magnifying glass a notorious serial murder case – one whose motives have been enshrined as law-enforcement dogma - and discovers that everyone has it wrong.
 
The most decorated homicide detective in NYPD history, Dave Gurney is still trying to adjust to his life of quasi-retirement in upstate New York when a young woman who is producing a documentary on a notorious murder spree seeks his counsel.  Soon after, Gurney begins feeling threatened: a razor-sharp hunting arrow lands in his yard, and he narrowly escapes serious injury in a booby-trapped basement.  As things grow more bizarre, he finds himself reexamining the case of The Good Shepherd, which ten years before involved a series of roadside shootings and a rage-against-the-rich manifesto.  The killings ceased, and a cult of analysis grew up around the case with a consensus opinion that no one would dream of challenging  -- no one, that is, but Dave Gurney. 
 
Mocked even by some who’d been his supporters in previous investigations, Dave realizes that the killer is too clever to ever be found.  The only gambit that may make sense is also the most dangerous – to make himself a target and get the killer to come to him.
 
To survive, Gurney must rely on three allies: his beloved wife Madeleine, impressively intuitive and a beacon of light in the gathering darkness; his de-facto investigative “partner” Jack Hardwick, always ready to spit in authority’s face but wily when it counts; and his son Kyle, who has come back into Gurney’s life with surprising force, love and loyalty.
 
Displaying all the hallmarks for which the Dave Gurney series is lauded -- well-etched characters, deft black humor, and ingenious deduction that ends in a climactic showdown – Let the Devil Sleep is something more: a reminder of the power of self-belief in a world that contains too little of it.


From the Hardcover edition.
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Editorial Reviews

Library Journal
Medal-heavy NYPD homicide detective Dave Gurney leaves the force for some peace and calm upstate, but no such luck. His basement is booby-trapped, and a super-sharp arrow lands in his yard. Soon he's rethinking the case of the "Good Shepherd," a mad-as-hell-at-society type who wreaked havoc a decade ago and disappeared. No one but Gurney believes that he's back. Verdon's Think of a Number was a best seller worldwide, so don't back off from this one.
Publishers Weekly
Verdon, who rejuvenated the impossible crime in his 2010 debut, Think of a Number, shows there’s much more that can be done with the serial killer plot in his breakneck, knockout third Dave Gurney whodunit (after 2011’s Shut Your Eyes Tight). Retired detective Gurney, dubbed “the NYPD Supercop” by the media for his phenomenal homicide clearance rate, once again can’t resist the opportunity to match wits with a brilliant murderer—in this case, the self-named “the Good Shepherd,” the subject of a reality TV project that a journalist asks his help on. Never identified, the Good Shepherd struck six times in the Syracuse area a decade earlier, targeting drivers of black Mercedes as part of his crusade against the wealthy. Gurney takes an iconoclastic approach to the cold case while tackling other, possibly unrelated investigations. The tension is palpable on virtually every page of a story that perfectly balances the protagonist’s complex inner life with an elaborately constructed puzzle. Agent: Molly Friedrich, the Friedrich Agency. (July)
From the Publisher
Starred Review. "Verdon...shows there's much more that can be done with the serial killer plot in his breakneck, knockout third Dave Gurney whodunit... The tension is palpable on virtually every page of a story that perfectly balances the protagonist's complex inner life with an elaborately constructed puzzle." - Publishers Weekly
Kirkus Reviews
Still recuperating from the physical and psychic wounds he suffered in closing his last case (Shut Your Eyes Tight, 2011, etc.), retired NYPD Detective Dave Gurney is drawn into yet another one, a 10-year-old serial killing that's never been closed. As a favor to Connie Clarke, the freelance reporter who made him famous as the Supercop, Gurney agrees to give her daughter, journalism student Kim Corazon, a little help on a project that's suddenly mushroomed from an academic thesis to a series on RAM TV. To flesh out her sense of how murder devastates a lot more people than the murder victims, Kim has interviewed the widows and children of victims of the Good Shepherd, who fired on half a dozen drivers in black Mercedes sedans in upstate New York and Massachusetts, left little toy animals at each crime scene, and sent the cops a diatribe against the greedy rich that yielded a very clear psychological profile but proved no help in closing the case a decade ago. Initially agreeing to accompany Kim on her rounds for a single day, Dave predictably gets sucked into deeper involvement with the grieving relatives, some of them happier than others to air their grief; the scalawag front-office types at RAM TV; Kim's accusatory ex-boyfriend Robert Montague, né Meese; and the law officials who neither solved the case nor want to talk about it now. Of the latter, New York State Police Senior Investigator Jack Hardwick is the most rational and helpful; his colleague Max Clinter, maddened by PTSD after he let the Shepherd escape his last crime scene, the craziest; and FBI agent Matthew Trout the most closemouthed and menacing. Endless allusions to Dave's brilliance can't obscure the fact that the colorless killer's plot is based on a cliché so well-established in the genre that experienced readers, spotting it long before the tortured genius, will feel pretty doggoned clever themselves.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780307717948
  • Publisher: Crown Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 7/24/2012
  • Series: A Dave Gurney Novel , #3
  • Sold by: Random House
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 464
  • Sales rank: 28,933
  • File size: 3 MB

Meet the Author

JOHN VERDON is a former Manhattan advertising executive who lives with his wife in the mountains of  upstate New York.  His first two Dave Gurney novels, Think of a Number and Shut Your Eyes Tight, are both international bestsellers.
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Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1

Spring

The French doors were open.

From where Dave Gurney was standing by the breakfast table, he could see that the last patches of winter snow, like reluctant glaciers, had receded from the open pasture and survived now only in the more recessed and shadowed places in the surrounding woods.

The mixed fragrances of the newly exposed earth and the previous summer’s unmowed hay drifted into the big farmhouse kitchen. These were smells that once had the power to enthrall him. Now they barely touched him.

“You should step outside,” said Madeleine from where she stood at the sink, washing out her cereal bowl. “Step out into the sun. It’s quite glorious.”

“Yes, I can see that,” he said, not moving.

“Sit and have your coffee in one of the Adirondack chairs,” she said, setting the bowl down in the drying rack on the countertop. “You could use some sun.”

“Hmm.” He nodded meaninglessly and took another sip from the mug he was holding. “Is this the same coffee we’ve been using?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I ­didn’t say anything was wrong with it.”

“Yes, it’s the same coffee.”

He sighed. “I think I’m getting a cold. Last couple of days, things ­haven’t had much taste.”

She rested her hands on the edge of the sink island and looked at him. “You need to get out more. You need to do something.”

“Right.”

“I mean it. You can’t just sit in the house and stare at the wall all day. It will make you sick. It is making you sick. Of course nothing tastes like anything. Have you called Connie Clarke back?”

“I will.”

“When?”

“When I feel like it.”

He ­didn’t think it was a feeling he was likely to have in the foreseeable future. ­That’s just the way he was these ­days—­the way he’d been for the past six months. It was as though, after the injuries he’d suffered at the end of the bizarre Jillian Perry murder case, he had withdrawn from everything connected with normal ­life—­daily tasks, planning, people, phone calls, commitments of any kind. He’d gotten to the point where he liked nothing better than a blank calendar page for the coming ­month—­no appointments, no promises. He’d come to equate withdrawal with freedom.

At the same time, he had the objectivity to know that what was happening to him ­wasn’t good, that there was no peace in his freedom. His predominant feeling was hostility, not serenity.

To some extent he understood the strange entropy that was unwinding the fabric of his life and isolating him. Or at least he could list what he believed to be its causes. Near the top of the list he’d place the tinnitus he’d been experiencing since he emerged from his coma. In all likelihood it had actually begun two weeks before that, when three shots were fired at him in a small room at nearly ­point-­blank range.

The persistent sound in his ears (which the ear, nose, and throat specialist had explained ­wasn’t a “sound” at all but rather a neural anomaly that the brain misinterpreted as sound) was hard to describe. The pitch was high, the volume low, the timbre like a softly hissed musical note. The phenomenon was fairly common among rock musicians and combat veterans, was anatomically mysterious, and, apart from occasional cases of spontaneous remission, was generally incurable. “Frankly, Detective Gurney,” the doctor had concluded, “considering what you’ve been through, considering the trauma and the coma, ending up with a mild ringing in your ears is a damn lucky outcome.”

It ­wasn’t a conclusion Dave could argue with. But it ­hadn’t made it any easier for him to adjust to the faint whine that enveloped him when all else was silent. It was a particular problem at night. What in daylight might resemble the harmless whistling of a teakettle in a distant room became in the darkness a sinister presence, a cold, metallic atmosphere that encased him.

Then there were the ­dreams—­claustrophobic dreams that recalled his hospital experiences, memories of the constricting cast that had held his arm immobile, the difficulty he’d had in ­breathing—­dreams that left him feeling panicky for long minutes after awakening.

He still had a numb spot on his right forearm close to where the first of his assailant’s bullets had shattered the wrist bone. He checked the spot regularly, sometimes hourly, in hopes that its numbness was ­receding—­or, on bleaker days, in fear that it was spreading. There were occasional, unpredictable, stabbing pains in his side where the second bullet had passed through him. There was also an intermittent ­tingling—­like an itch impervious to ­scratching—­at the center of his hairline where the third bullet had fractured his skull.

Perhaps the most distressing effect of being wounded was the constant need he now felt to be armed. He’d carried a gun on the job because regulations had required it. Unlike most cops, he had no fondness for firearms. And when he left the department after ­twenty-­five years, he left behind, along with his gold detective’s shield, the need to carry a weapon.

Until he was shot.

And now, each morning as he got dressed, the inevitable final item he put on was a small ankle holster holding a .32 Beretta. He hated the emotional need for it. Hated the change in him that required the damn thing to always be with him. He’d hoped the need would gradually diminish, but so far that ­wasn’t happening.

On top of everything else, it seemed to him that Madeleine had been watching him in recent weeks with a new kind of worry in her ­eyes—­not the fleeting looks of pain and panic he’d seen in the hospital, or the alternating expressions of hopefulness and anxiety that had accompanied his early recovery, but something quieter and ­deeper—­a ­half-­hidden chronic dread, as if she were witnessing something terrible.

Still standing by the breakfast table, he finished his coffee in two large swallows. Then he carried the mug to the sink and let the hot water run into it. He could hear Madeleine down the hall in the mudroom, cleaning out the cat’s litter box. The cat had recently been added to the household at Madeleine’s initiative. Gurney wondered why. Was it to cheer him up? Engage him in the life of a creature other than himself? If so, it ­wasn’t working. He had no more interest in the cat than in anything else.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he announced.

He heard Madeleine say something in the mudroom that sounded like “Good.” He ­wasn’t sure ­that’s what she said, but he ­didn’t see any point in asking. He went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water.

A long, steamy ­shower—­the energetic spray pelting his back minute after minute from the base of his neck down to the base of his spine, relaxing muscles, opening capillaries, clearing mind and ­sinuses—­produced in him a feeling of ­well-­being that was both wonderful and fleeting.

By the time he’d dressed again and returned to the French doors, a jangled sense of unease was already beginning to reassert itself. Madeleine was outside now on the bluestone patio. Beyond the patio was the small section of the pasture that had, through two years of frequent mowings, come to resemble a lawn. Clad in a rough barn jacket, orange sweatpants, and green rubber boots, she was working her way along the edge of the flagstones, stamping enthusiastically down on a spade every six inches, creating a clear demarcation, digging out the encroaching roots of the wild grasses. She gave him a look that seemed at first to convey an invitation for him to join in the project, then disappointment at his obvious reluctance to do so.

Irritated, he purposely looked away, his gaze drifting down the hillside to his green tractor parked by the barn.

She followed his line of sight. “I was wondering, could you use the tractor to smooth out the ruts?”

“Ruts?”

“Where we park the cars.”

“Sure . . .” he said hesitantly. “I guess.”

“It ­doesn’t have to be done right this minute.”

“Hmm.” All traces of equanimity from his shower were now gone, as his train of thought shifted to the peculiar tractor problem he’d discovered a month ago and had largely put out of his ­mind—­except for those paranoid moments when it drove him crazy.

Madeleine appeared to be studying him. She smiled, put down her spade, and walked around to the side door, evidently so she could take off her boots in the mudroom before coming into the kitchen.

He took a deep breath and stared at the tractor, wondering for the twentieth time about the mysteriously jammed brake. As if acting in malignant harmony, a dark cloud slowly obliterated the sun. Spring, it seemed, had come and gone.

Chapter 2

A Huge Favor for Connie Clarke

The Gurney property was situated on the saddle of a ridge at the end of a rural road outside the Catskill village of Walnut Crossing. The old farmhouse was set on the gentle southern slope of the saddle. An overgrown pasture separated it from a large red barn and a deep pond ringed by cattails and willows, backed by a beech, maple, and ­black-­cherry forest. To the north a second pasture rose along the ridgeline ­toward a pine forest and a string of small abandoned bluestone quarries that looked out over the next valley.

The weather had gone through the kind of dramatic ­about-­face that was far more common in the Catskill Mountains than in New York City, where Dave and Madeleine had come from. The sky had become a featureless slaty blanket drawn over the hills. The temperature seemed to have dropped at least ten degrees in ten minutes.

A superfine sleet was beginning to fall. Gurney closed the French doors. As he pulled them tight to secure the latches, he felt a piercing pain in the right side of his stomach. A moment later another followed. This was something he was used to, nothing that three ibuprofens ­couldn’t suppress. He headed for the bathroom medicine cabinet, thinking that the worst part of it ­wasn’t the physical discomfort, the worst part was the feeling of vulnerability, the realization that the only reason he was alive was that he’d been lucky.

Luck was not a concept he liked. It seemed to him to be the ­fool’s substitute for competence. Random chance had saved his life, but random chance was not a trustworthy ally. He knew younger men who believed in good luck, relied on good luck, thought it was something they owned. But at the age of ­forty-­eight, Gurney knew damn well that luck is only luck, and the invisible hand that flips the coin is as cold as a corpse.

The pain in his side also reminded him that he’d been meaning to cancel his upcoming appointment with his neurologist in Binghamton. He’d had four appointments with the man in less than four months, and they seemed increasingly pointless, unless the only point was to send Gurney’s insurance company another bill.

He kept that phone number with his other medical numbers in his den desk. Instead of continuing into the bathroom for the ibuprofen, he went into the den to make the call. As he was entering the number, he was picturing the doctor: a preoccupied man in his late thirties, with wavy black hair already receding, small eyes, girlish mouth, weak chin, silky hands, manicured fingernails, expensive loafers, dismissive manner, and no visible interest in anything that Gurney thought or felt. The three women who inhabited his sleek, contemporary reception area seemed perpetually confused and irritated by the doctor, by his patients, and by the data on their computer screens.

The phone was answered on the fourth ring with an impatience verging on contempt. “Dr. Huffbarger’s office.”

“This is David Gurney, I have an upcoming appointment that ­I’d—­”

The sharp voice cut him off. “Hold on, please.”

In the background he could hear a raised male voice that he thought for a moment belonged to an angry patient reeling off a long, urgent ­complaint—­until a second voice asked a question and a third voice joined the fray in a similar tone of loud, ­fast-­talking ­indignation—­and Gurney realized that what he was hearing was the cable news channel that made sitting in Huffbarger’s waiting room insufferable.

“Hello?” said Gurney with a definite edge. “Anybody there? Hello?”

“Just a minute, please.”

The voices that he found so abrasively ­empty-­headed continued in the background. He was about to hang up when the receptionist’s voice returned.

“Dr. Huffbarger’s office, can I help you?”

“Yes. This is David Gurney. I have an appointment I want to cancel.”

“The date?”

“A week from today at ­eleven-­forty a.m.”

“Spell your name, please.”

He was about to question how many people had appointments on that same day at 11:40, but he spelled his name instead.

“And when do you wish to reschedule it?”

“I don’t. I’m just canceling it.”

“You’ll need to reschedule it.”

“What?”

“I can reschedule Dr. Huffbarger’s appointments, not cancel them.”

“But the fact ­is—­”

She interrupted, sounding exasperated. “An existing appointment can’t be removed from the system without inserting a revised date. ­That’s the doctor’s policy.”

Gurney could feel his lips tightening with anger, way too much anger. “I don’t ­really care much about his system or his policy,” he said slowly, stiffly. “Consider my appointment canceled.”

“There will be a ­missed-­appointment charge.”

“No there won’t. And if Huffbarger has a problem with that, tell him to call me.” He hung up, tense, feeling a twinge of chagrin at his childish twisting of the neurologist’s name.

He stared out the den window at the high pasture without ­really seeing it.

What the ­hell’s the matter with me?

A jab of pain in his right side offered a partial answer. It also reminded him that he’d been on his way to the medicine cabinet when he’d made his ­appointment-­canceling detour.

He returned to the bathroom. He ­didn’t like the look of the man who looked back at him from the mirror on the cabinet door. His forehead was lined with worry, his skin colorless, his eyes dull and tired.

Christ.

He knew he had to get back to his daily exercise ­regimen—­the sets of ­push-­ups, ­chin-­ups, ­sit-­ups that had once kept him in better shape than most men half his age. But now the man in the mirror was looking every bit of ­forty-­eight, and he ­wasn’t happy about it. He ­wasn’t happy about the daily messages of mortality his body was sending him. He ­wasn’t happy about his descent from mere introversion into isolation. He ­wasn’t happy about . . . anything.
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Customer Reviews

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 23 Customer Reviews
  • Posted July 30, 2012

    more from this reviewer

    Dave Gurney is back

    I was lucky enough to be an early reader (and fan) of John Verdon's debut novel - Think of a Numb3r. (my review) I love getting in on the ground floor of a new series. His second book - Shut Your Eyes Tight (my review) - was just as good and proved that Verdon wasn't a one book wonder. The latest book in his Dave Gurney series - Let the Devil Sleep - was fantastic! John Verdon just gets better and better.

    Retired NYPD Homicide Detective Dave Gurney has spent the last six months recovering from gunshot wounds sustained during his last attempt to bring down a serial killer. Yes, he's retired - but can't help himself - puzzles intrigue him and unsolved cases still call his name. He had the highest solve rate in the NYPD's history when he retired. But this time, he just can't seem to shake things off - he's out of sorts, short tempered with his ever patient wife Madeleine, can't stop worrying about his lingering symptoms and has no interest in doing anything. When Connie, an old journalist friend contacts him to ask a favour, he agrees out of a sense of obligation. Her daughter Kim is doing a series of interviews with families of the victims of a serial killer dubbed The Good Shepherd. Ten years ago, the killer targeted the wealthy, specifically those driving black Mercedes. The case remains unsolved and Kim would like to have him look over what she's doing with his cop's eye and give her feedback.

    But a lot occurs in that one day - there's more going on with Kim than she initially mentioned. And the interviews and files on The Good Shepherd pique Gurney's interest. It is Madeleine who notes that Gurney has done more in a day than he has in months - and he's not worrying about his symptoms every five minutes. Slowly, but surely, Dave is hooked again. He believes the initial investigation was flawed.

    In the beginning of the series, I wasn't sure what I thought about Gurney. But, as the series grows, so
    does Dave. This time out, we get to meet his son Kyle, with whom Dave has a difficult relationship. Verdon explores this dynamic well, letting us get a view of Gurney beneath the controlled exterior. Gurney's enigmatic wife Madeleine continually intrigues me. Her love of nature, colour and life are in stark contrast to Gurney's pursuit of killers. What makes this marriage work? Verdon allows to see into this relationship a little more every time. Madeline is still my favourite supporting character. Another recurring character is Detective Jack Hartwick. The testy relationship between Jack and Dave is entertaining. I did find it hard to warm up to Kim; I found her to be manipulative and self centered.

    So, the characters are great. What about the plot? Well, this is where Verdon shines. The plotting is impeccable, complex and devious. There are two plot lines running simultaneously - could they connected? Gurney's reasoning and thought processes were fascinating. I enjoyed the matching of wits between the FBI, their psychologist consultant and Dave. We get to reopen the case with Dave as he explores past files. However, the past is not content to stay buried and the tension, thrills and stakes are heightened as the killer puts Dave squarely in his line of sight. I had absolutely no idea whodunit until the last few pages. I love not being able to figure out the case until the end.

    Just a great series. You could read any of the books as a stand alone, but I bet you'll be hunting down the other two!

    6 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 24, 2012

    more from this reviewer

    Verdon Scores Again

    Slowly recovering from his injuries sustained in his previous case, Dave Gurney is sucked into a new case. It starts out as a favor, then becomes therapy and finally an obsession. For the reader it becomes harder and harder to put it down. The plot, the character development and the writing are excellent. If you like well written, suspenseful mysteries, this a read for you.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 13, 2012

    The best yet by John Verdon! I could not put it down.

    The best yet by John Verdon! I could not put it down.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 7, 2012

    There was a large cast of characters and lots of overlapping sto

    There was a large cast of characters and lots of overlapping storylines, but they all revolved around the Good Shepherd case and Kim’s interviewing the families for RAM-TV, kind of a cross between Fox News and TMZ. There was so much going on and I loved the fast pace of the book.
    I love this series and highly recommend it.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 5, 2012

    Excellent!

    His best book yet! I hated for it to end. His characters are well developed and continue to grow with each new book. He is maturing as a writer. I'm ready for the next one!

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 4, 2012

    AWESOME!!!!

    It was amazing.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted November 28, 2012

    more from this reviewer

    In his third appearance, retired NYPD detective David Gurney pr


    In his third appearance, retired NYPD detective David Gurney probably wishes he never answered the telephone. By doing so, he ends up in a most precarious situation when a journalist who had written a laudatory profile of him when he was a top homicide detective asks him to look over her daughter’s shoulder. The daughter has a chance to have her thesis idea converted into a TV series: “Orphans of the Murder,” a series of interviews with the families of the victims of a killer known as The Good Shepherd. The homicides had taken place a decade earlier.

    Gurney reluctantly agrees, but then becomes more and more involved in the case, which he believes was mishandled in the original investigation. Of course, as he continues to look into it and raise questions, he makes no friends in the establishment, especially the FBI which had assumed control of the case. And complicating his efforts is the Good Shepherd’s attempts to forestall and kill the TV series.

    The novel begins as Gurney is slowly recovering from three gunshot wounds, one to his head, as a result of his last exploit. And, of course, no Gurney story would leave him uninjured as a result of his determination to solve a case. While the plot is logical and straightforward, a lot of the writing is repetitive, especially Gurney’s relations with his second wife, Madeleine, and his son, Kyle. That said, the story moves forward at a swift pace and has an unforeseen conclusion, and it is highly recommended.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted November 24, 2012

    Quite slow plot development. I was spoiled by Vernon's Think of

    Quite slow plot development. I was spoiled by Vernon's Think of a Number and Shut Your Eyes Tight. This third in the Dave Gurney series yawned in comparison to his first two. It was not enthralling and failed to capture the intensity as the other books.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted November 21, 2012

    more from this reviewer

    Author John Verdon¿s third novel, LET THE DEVIL SLEEP, is compri

    Author John Verdon’s third novel, LET THE DEVIL SLEEP, is comprised of many interesting elements—a compelling story, a population of vivid characters, and an opaque and dangerous plot whose literary waters only become clearer in the novel’s closing pages. All the earmarks of a fabulous read! For me, however, above all else, is the character of David Gurney and how he developed from the debut novel, THINK OF A NUMBER, navigating his way through SHUT YOUR EYES TIGHT, and finally culminating with LET THE DEVIL SLEEP.

    In this third of a series tracking down serial killers, main character David Gurney—a highly decorated, retired NYPD homicide detective—reluctantly agrees to take a young television reporter under his wing as she interviews survivors of the victims targeted by The Good Shepherd, a vicious serial killer. This novel is about two journeys—finding the killer and Gurney finding himself. A very good read!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 24, 2012

    Highly Recommended!

    This is the 3rd in a series about retired NYPD detective Dave Gurney. Like the others, the plot grabs you and has you trying to figure out who the killer is, and you can't put the book down until you've finished it. John Verdon is an author who can enthrall and tantalize. This is a must read!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted September 22, 2012

    Good Read!!

    I like John Verdon. He writes well with good characters and plenty of action. However, his plots are not always first rate. His first book (Pick A Number) was his best. Dave Gurney is a methodical ex-detective who always figures it out, and I just love his interaction with Hardwick. I enjoyed this book.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 14, 2012

    This series reveals more and more about this character.

    If you have read the other books by this author, you'll enjoy this one.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted August 22, 2012

    more from this reviewer

    I learned something this week: John Verdon is a heck of a writer

    I learned something this week: John Verdon is a heck of a writer. I read
    LET THE DEVIL SLEEP in two days, which is saying a lot, because it's a
    BIG book, running 449 pages. It was just hard to stop. This is Mr.
    Verdon's third novel, and third in the continuing adventures of retired
    NYPD homicide detective Dave Gurney. And now, God help me, I'm going to
    have to find and read the first two, THINK OF A NUMBER and SHUT YOUR
    EYES TIGHT. LET THE DEVIL SLEEP begins with Gurney at home, lamenting
    the gunshot injury that ended his career, when he's asked to help a
    passionate young journalist with a TV project. Ten years earlier, you
    see, a killer calling himself the Good Shepherd blasted six people off
    the highway and was never caught. The journalist, a young lady named Kim
    Corazon, plans to interview the families of the victims to examine the
    toll the killings have taken on their lives. Gurney isn't much
    interested until it appears someone is trying to scare he and Kim off
    the project, and the FBI is stonewalling all attempts to get details of
    their failed investigation. When he's pushed, Dave Gurney pushes back,
    and pushes hard. He's soon committed not only to assisting Kim, but
    reopening the ten-year-old Good Shepherd case, and finding out where the
    FBI went wrong. We meet some great characters here: Another ex-cop
    driven more-than-half mad by his obsession with the Shepherd. A
    psychoanalyst whose stellar reputation is threatened by the reopening of
    the case. A couple of detectives who still value truth over propriety.
    And family members of the Shepherd's old victims, some angry and some
    despondent, but all still struggling to brings their shattered lives
    back into balance. LET THE DEVIL SLEEP is above all a mystery novel,
    but John Verdon's explorations into Dave Gurney's character and
    relationship with his wife, his son, and his fate make this a powerful
    novel as well. Bottom line: I'm now a Verdon fan. I'll be eagerly
    awaiting his next book.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 14, 2014

    Love Detective Dave Gurney!

    This series is awesome. I read the first three books back to back and can't wait for the next one to be published.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 13, 2014

    WONDERFUL SERIES

    This author is an excellent writer...I have enjoyed all three of his books and am waiting impatiently for the fourth. I am a teacher and well-versed in literature and believe me when I tell you that these books could be described as literature.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 31, 2014

    Good Author

    I'm very happy to have discovered John Verdon. It isn't often that someone comes onto 'the scene' as fully-fledged as Verdon has; while things certainly mature with each book, refreshingly, his writing hasn't really needed to, it was already good with his first book. Having said this, what I would love to see is some growth and movement in Gurney's relationship with his wife. He remains, throughout all three books, rather boorish and combative in most transactions with her, creating an interactive flatness for me that simply makes me wonder why it would ever be that she would stay with him. I'm getting a little weary of Gurney's cogent insight around his interactions with her not being coupled with any kind of growth.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 25, 2013

    Page turner

    Good read

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  • Posted October 2, 2013

    Great new find!

    I found John Verdon by accident from a co-worker. As I am always looking for new authors, I paged through this title and decided I needed to start with the 1st book. Great characters, and very well written.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 9, 2012

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted July 3, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

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