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Book of the Dead (Kay Scarpetta Series #15)
     

Book of the Dead (Kay Scarpetta Series #15)

3.6 449
by Patricia Cornwell
 

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Kay Scarpetta is starting over with a unique private forensic pathology practice in Charleston, South Carolina. And the death of a sixteen-year-old tennis star will usher in a string of murders more baffling—and terrifying—than any that have come before.

Overview

Kay Scarpetta is starting over with a unique private forensic pathology practice in Charleston, South Carolina. And the death of a sixteen-year-old tennis star will usher in a string of murders more baffling—and terrifying—than any that have come before.

Editorial Reviews

In mortuary parlance, the "book of the dead" is the morgue ledger; for most of us, nothing more than a grim accounting of the recently deceased. For forensic pathologist Kay Scarpetta, though, these morbid sign-out sheets are questions waiting to be answered. As she sets up her new South Carolina private practice, she realizes that these questions seem to be piling up at any alarming rate, leading her to suspect that a serial killer or killers are on the loose. A first-rate forensic thriller.
Publishers Weekly

Bestseller Cornwell's 15th novel to feature Dr. Kay Scarpetta (after 2005's Predator) delivers her trademark grisly crime scenes, but lacks the coherence and emotional resonance of earlier books. Soon after relocating to Charleston, S.C., to launch a private forensics lab, Scarpetta is asked to consult on the murder of U.S. tennis star Drew Martin, whose mutilated body was found in Rome. Contradictory evidence leaves Scarpetta, the Italian carabinieri and Scarpetta's lover, forensic psychologist Benton Wesley, stumped. But when she discovers unsettling connections between Martin's murder, the body of an unidentified South Carolina boy and her old nemesis, the maniacal psychiatrist Dr. Marilyn Self, Scarpetta encounters a killer as deadly as any she's ever faced. With her recent switch from first- to third-person narration, Cornwell loses what once made her series so compelling: a window into the mind of a strong, intelligent woman holding her own in a profession dominated by men. Here, the abrupt shifts in point of view slow the momentum, and the reader flounders in excessive forensic minutiae. (Oct.)

Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information
Forbes Magazine
Charles Dickens would be impressed with both the characters in this book and their names, e.g. Dr. Marilyn Self, a malignantly conniving, deranged TV psychiatrist. The tale's heroine, Kay Scarpetta, is a private forensic pathologist grappling with the murder of a famous teenage American tennis champ in Rome. At the same time, she has to deal with the murder of a malnourished and badly beaten child. Scarpetta's relations with her colleagues, not to mention those with her significant other, are tumultuous and tangled. All these characters have varying levels of unredeeming traits. What a walloping, riveting mix of mystery, adventure and psychology. Author Cornwell certainly is skilled at dissecting the not always attractive innards of human nature. (25 Feb 2008)
—Steve Forbes
Library Journal

This 15th book in the Kay Scarpetta series focuses more on the relationships of the familiar characters than the mystery. Nemesis Dr. Marilyn Self is back to plague Kay as her new private forensic pathology practice tries to find the links among murders in Italy and Charleston, SC. There are many other hurdles and some surprises along with some inevitabilities. The new locale and a cliffhanger ending show the series is still worth following. Narrator Kate Reading is as familiar to Scarpetta fans as the characters are. Recommended. [Cornwell's Postmortem is the only novel to win the Edgar, Creasey, Anthony, and Macavity awards in a single year; Book of the Dead is also available as downloadable audio from Audible.com.-Ed.]
—Joyce Kessel

Kirkus Reviews
Pioneering pathologist Kay Scarpetta (Trace, 2004, etc.) goes up against a wraithlike killer whose self-appointed mission is to "relieve others of their suffering."Practice, practice, practice. If only 16-year-old South Carolina tennis phenom Drew Martin had stuck to the court instead of going off to Rome to party, her tortured corpse wouldn't be baffling the Italian authorities, headed inexplicably by medico legale Capt. Ottorino Poma, and the International Investigative Response team, which includes both Scarpetta and her lover, forensic psychologist Benton Wesley. But the young woman's murder and the gruesome forensic riddles it poses are something of a sideshow to the main event: the obligatory maundering of the continuing cast. Wesley still won't leave Boston for the woman he tepidly insists he loves. Scarpetta's niece, computer whiz Lucy Farinelli, continues to be jealously protective of her aunt. Scarpetta's investigator, Pete Marino, is so besotted by the trailer-trash pickup who's pushing his buttons that he does some terrible things. And Scarpetta herself is threatened by every misfit in the known universe, from a disgruntled mortician to oracular TV shrink Marilyn Self. Cornwell's trademark forensics have long since been matched by Karin Slaughter and CSI. What's most distinctive about this venerable franchise is the kitchen-sink plotting; the soap-opera melodrama that prevents any given volume from coming to a satisfying end; and the emphasis on titanic battles between Scarpetta and a series of Antichrists. Proceed at your own risk.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780425216255
Publisher:
Penguin Publishing Group
Publication date:
09/02/2008
Series:
Kay Scarpetta Series , #15
Edition description:
Reprint
Pages:
528
Sales rank:
158,447
Product dimensions:
4.40(w) x 7.70(h) x 1.20(d)
Age Range:
18 Years

Read an Excerpt

Rome. Water splashing. A gray mosaic tile tub sunk deep into a terracotta floor.

Water pours slowly from an old brass spout, and darkness pours through a window. On the other side of old, wavy glass is the piazza, and the fountain, and the night.

She sits quietly in water, and the water is very cold, with melting ice cubes in it, and there is little in her eyes—nothing much there anymore. At first, her eyes were like hands reaching out to him, begging him to save her. Now her eyes are the bruised blue of dusk. Whatever was in them has almost left. Soon she will sleep.

“Here,” he says, handing her a tumbler that was handblown in Murano and now is filled with vodka.

He is fascinated by parts of her that have never seen the sun. They are pale like limestone, and he turns the spigot almost off, and the water is a trickle now, and he watches her rapid breathing and hears the chattering of her teeth. Her white breasts float beneath the surface of the water, delicate like white flowers. Her nipples, hard from the cold, are tight pink buds. Then he thinks of pencils. Of chewing off nubby pink erasers when he was in school, and telling his father and sometimes his mother that he didn’t need erasers because he didn’t make mistakes. When in truth, he liked to chew. He couldn’t help it, and that also was the truth.

“You’ll remember my name,” he says to her.

“I won’t,” she says. “I can forget it.” Chattering.

He knows why she says it: If she forgets his name, her destiny will be rethought like a bad battle plan.

“What is it?” he asks. “Tell me my name.”

“I don’t remember.” Crying, shaking.

“Say it,” he says, looking at her tan arms, pebbly with goose bumps, the blond hair on them erect, her young breasts and the darkness between her legs underwater.

“Will.”

“And the rest of it?”

“Rambo.”

“And you think that’s amusing,” he says, naked, sitting on the lid of the toilet.

She shakes her head vigorously.

Lying. She made fun of him when he told her his name. She laughed and said Rambo is make-believe, a movie name. He said it’s Swedish. She said he isn’t Swedish. He said the name is Swedish. Where did she think it came from? It’s a real name. “Right,” she said. “Like Rocky,” she said, laughing. “Look it up on the Internet,” he said. “It’s a real name,” he said, and he didn’t like that he had to explain his name. This was two days ago, and he didn’t hold it against her, but he was aware of it. He forgave her because despite what the world says, she suffers unbearably.

“Knowing my name will be an echo,” he says. “It makes no difference, not in the least. Just a sound already said.”

“I would never say it.” Panic.

Her lips and nails are blue, and she shivers uncontrollably. She stares. He tells her to drink more, and she doesn’t dare refuse him. The slightest act of insubordination, and she knows what happens. Even one small scream, and she knows what happens. He sits calmly on the lid of the toilet, his legs splayed so she can see his excitement, and fear it. She doesn’t beg anymore or tell him to have his way with her, if that’s the reason she’s his hostage. She doesn’t say this anymore because she knows what happens when she insults him and implies that if he had a way it would be with her. Meaning she wouldn’t give it willingly and want it.

“You realize I asked you nicely,” he says.

“I don’t know.” Teeth chattering.

“You do know. I asked you to thank me. That’s all I asked, and I was nice to you. I asked you nicely, then you had to do this,” he says. “You had to make me do this. You see”—he gets up and watches his nakedness in the mirror over the smooth marble sink—“your suffering makes me do this,” his nakedness in the mirror says. “And I don’t want to do this. So you’ve hurt me. Do you understand you’ve critically hurt me by making me do this?” his nakedness in the mirror says.

She says she understands, and her eyes scatter like flying shards of glass as he opens the toolbox, and her scattered gaze fixes on the box cutters and knives and fine-tooth saws. He lifts out a small bag of sand and sets it on the edge of the sink. He pulls out ampules of lavender glue and sets them down, too.

“I’ll do anything you want. Give you anything you want.” She has said this repeatedly.

He has ordered her not to say it again. But she just did.

His hands dip into the water, and the coldness of the water bites him, and he grabs her ankles and lifts her up. He holds her up by her cold, tan legs with their cold, white feet and feels her terror in her panicking muscles as he holds her cold ankles tight. He holds her a little longer than last time, and she struggles and flails and thrashes violently, cold water splashing loudly. He lets go. She gasps and coughs and makes strangling cries. She doesn’t complain. She’s learned not to complain—it took a while, but she’s learned it. She’s learned all of this is for her own good and is grateful for a sacrifice that will change his life—not hers, but his—in a way that isn’t good. Wasn’t good. Can never be good. She should be grateful for his gift.

He picks up the trash bag he filled with ice from the ice maker in the bar and pours the last of it in the tub and she looks at him, tears running down her face. Grief. The dark edges of it showing.

“We used to hang them from the ceiling over there,” he says. “Kick them in the sides of their knees, over and over. Over there. All of us coming into the small room and kicking the sides of their knees. It’s excruciatingly painful and, of course, crippling, and, of course, some of them died. That’s nothing compared to other things I saw over there. I didn’t work in that prison, you see. But I didn’t need to, because there was plenty of that type of behavior to go around. What people don’t understand is it wasn’t stupid to film any of it. To photograph it. It was inevitable. You have to. If you don’t, it’s as if it never happened. So people take pictures. They show them to others. It only takes one. One person to see it. Then the whole world does.”

She glances at the camera on the marble-top table against the stucco wall.

“They deserved it anyway, didn’t they?” he says. “They forced us to be something we weren’t, so whose fault was it? Not ours.”

She nods. She shivers, and her teeth chatter.

“I didn’t always participate,” he says. “I did watch. At first it was difficult, perhaps traumatic. I was against it, but the things they did to us. And because of what they did, we were forced to do things back, so it was their fault that they forced us, and I know you see that.”

She nods and cries and shakes.

“The roadside bombs. Kidnapping. Much more than you hear about,” he says. “You get used to it. Just like you’re getting used to the cold water, aren’t you?”

She isn’t used to it, only numb and on her way to hypothermia. By now her head pounds and her heart feels as if it will explode. He hands her the vodka, and she drinks.

“I’m going to open the window,” he says. “So you can hear Bernini’s fountain. I’ve heard it much of my life. The night’s perfect. You should see the stars.” He opens the window and looks at the night, the stars, the fountain of four rivers, and the piazza. Empty at this hour. “You won’t scream,” he says.

She shakes her head and her chest heaves and she shivers uncontrollably.

“You’re thinking about your friends. I know that. Certainly they’re thinking about you. That’s too bad. And they aren’t here. They aren’t anywhere to be seen.” He looks at the deserted piazza again and shrugs. “Why would they be here now? They’ve left. Long ago.”

Her nose runs and tears spill and she shakes. The energy in her eyes—it’s not what it was when he met her, and he resents her for ruining who she was to him. Earlier, much earlier, he spoke Italian to her because it changed him into the stranger he needed to be. Now he speaks English because it no longer makes a difference. She glances at his excitement. Her glances at his excitement bounce against it like a moth against a lamp. He feels her there. She fears what’s there. But not as much as she fears everything else—the water, the tools, the sand, the glue. She doesn’t comprehend the thick black belt coiled on the very old tile floor, and she should fear it most of all.

He picks it up and tells her it’s a primitive urge to beat people who can’t defend themselves. Why? She doesn’t answer. Why? She stares at him in terror, and the light in her eyes is dull but crazed, like a mirror shattering right in front of him. He tells her to stand, and she does, shakily, her knees almost collapsing. She stands in the frigid water and he turns off the spout. Her body reminds him of a bow with a taut string because she’s flexible and powerful. Water trickles down her skin as she stands before him.

“Turn away from me,” he says. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to beat you with the belt. I don’t do that.”

Water quietly laps in the tub as she turns away from him, facing old, cracked stucco and a closed shutter.

“Now I need you to kneel in the water,” he says. “And look at the wall. Don’t look at me.”

She kneels, facing the wall, and he picks up the belt and slides the end of it through the buckle.

Chapter 1

Ten days later. April 27, 2007. A Friday afternoon.

Inside the virtual-reality theater are twelve of Italy’s most powerful law enforcers and politicians, whose names, in the main, forensic pathologist Kay Scarpetta can’t keep straight. The only non-Italians are herself and forensic psychologist Benton Wesley, both consultants for International Investigative Response (IIR), a special branch of the European Network of Forensic Science Institutes (ENFSI). The Italian government is in a very delicate position.

Nine days ago, American tennis star Drew Martin was murdered while on vacation, her nude, mutilated body found near Piazza Navona, in the heart of Rome’s historic district. The case is an international sensation, details about the sixteen-year-old’s life and death replayed nonstop on television, the crawls at the bottom of the screen doing just that—crawling by slowly and tenaciously, repeating the same details the anchors and experts are saying.

“So, Dr. Scarpetta, let’s clarify, because there seems to be much confusion. According to you, she was dead by two or three o’clock that afternoon,” says Captain Ottorino Poma, a medico legale in the Arma dei Carabinieri, the military police heading the investigation.

“That’s not according to me,” she says, her patience beginning to fray. “That’s according to you.”

He frowns in the low lighting. “I was so sure it was you, just minutes ago, talking about her stomach contents and alcohol level. And the fact they indicate she was dead within hours of when she was seen last by her friends.”

“I didn’t say she was dead by two or three o’clock. I believe it is you who continues to say that, Captain Poma.”

At a young age he already has a widespread reputation, and not an entirely good one. When Scarpetta first met him two years ago in the Hague at the ENFSI’s annual meeting, he was derisively dubbed the Designer Doctor and described as extraordinarily conceited and argumentative. He is handsome—magnificent, really—with a taste for beautiful women and dazzling clothes, and today he is wearing a uniform of midnight blue with broad red stripes and bright silver embellishments, and polished black leather boots. When he swept into the theater this morning, he was wearing a red-lined cape.

He sits directly in front of Scarpetta, front row center, and rarely takes his eyes off her. On his right is Benton Wesley, who is silent most of the time. Everyone is masked by stereoscopic glasses that are synchronized with the Crime Scene Analysis System, a brilliant innovation that has made the Polizia Scientifica Italiana’s Unità per l’Analisi del Crimine Violento the envy of law enforcement agencies worldwide.

“I suppose we need to go through this again so you completely understand my position,” Scarpetta says to Captain Poma, who now rests his chin on his hand as if he is having an intimate conversation with her over a glass of wine. “Had she been killed at two or three o’clock that afternoon, then when her body was found at approximately eight-thirty the following morning, she would have been dead at least seventeen hours. Her livor mortis, rigor mortis, and algor mortis are inconsistent with that.”

She uses a laser pointer to direct attention to the three-dimensional muddy construction site projected on the wall-size screen. It’s as if they are standing in the middle of the scene, staring at Drew Martin’s mauled, dead body and the litter and earthmoving equipment around it. The red dot of the laser moves along the left shoulder, the left buttock, the left leg and its bare foot. The right buttock is gone, as is a portion of her right thigh, as if she had been attacked by a shark.

Meet the Author

Patricia Cornwell was born on June 9, 1956, in Miami, Florida, and grew up in Montreat, North Carolina.

Following graduation from Davidson College in 1979, she began working at the Charlotte Observer, rapidly advancing from listing television programs to writing feature articles to covering the police beat. She won an investigative reporting award from the North Carolina Press Association for a series of articles on prostitution and crime in downtown Charlotte.

Her award-winning biography of Ruth Bell Graham, A Time for Remembering, was published in 1983. From 1984 to 1990 she worked as a technical writer and a computer analyst at the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in Richmond, Virginia.

Her first crime novel, Postmortem, was published by Scribner’s in 1990. Initially rejected by seven major publishing houses, it became the first novel to win the Edgar, Creasey, Anthony, and Macavity awards as well as the French Prix du Roman d’Aventure in a single year. In Postmortem, Cornwell introduced Dr. Kay Scarpetta as the intrepid Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Virginia. In 1999, Dr. Scarpetta herself won the Sherlock Award for best detective created by an American author.

Following the success of her first novel, Cornwell has written a series of bestsellers featuring Kay Scarpetta, her detective sidekick Pete Marino, and her brilliant and unpredictable niece, Lucy Farinelli: Body of Evidence (1991), All That Remains (1992), Cruel and Unusual (1993) [which won Britain’s prestigious Gold Dagger Award for the year’s best crime novel], The Body Farm (1994), From Potter’s Field (1995), Cause of Death (1996), Unnatural Exposure (1997), Point of Origin (1998), Black Notice (1999), The Last Precinct (2000), Blow Fly (2003), Trace (2004), Predator (2005), Book of the Dead (2007) [which won the 2008 Galaxy British Book Awards’ Books Direct Crime Thriller of the year; she is the first American ever to win this award], Scarpetta (2008), and The Scarpetta Factor (2009).

In addition to the Scarpetta novels, she has written three best-selling novels featuring Andy Brazil: Hornet’s Nest (1996), Southern Cross (1998), and Isle of Dogs (2001); two cook books: Scarpetta’s Winter Table (1998) and Food to Die For (2001); and a children’s book: Life’s Little Fable (1999). In 1997, she updated A Time for Remembering, and it was reissued as Ruth, A Portrait: The Story of Ruth Bell Graham. Intrigued by Scotland Yard’s John Grieve’s observation that no one had ever tried to use modern forensic evidence to solve the murders committed by Jack the Ripper, Cornwell began her own investigation of the serial killer’s crimes. In Portrait of a Killer: Jack the Ripper—Case Closed (2002), she narrates her discovery of compelling evidence to indict the famous artist Walter Sickert as the Ripper.

In January 2006, the New York Times Magazine began a 15-week serialization of At Risk, featuring Massachusetts State Police investigator Win Garano and his boss, District Attorney Monique Lamont. Its sequel, The Front, was serialized in the London Times in the spring of 2008.

Both novellas were subsequently published as books and promptly optioned for adaptation by Lifetime Television Network, starring Daniel Sunjata and Andie MacDowell. In April 2009, Fox acquired the film rights to the Scarpetta novels, featuring Angelina Jolie as Dr.Kay Scarpetta. Cornwell herself wrote and co-produced the movie ATF for ABC.

Often interviewed on national television as a forensic consultant, Cornwell is a founder of the Virginia Institute of Forensic Science and Medicine; a founding member of the National Forensic Academy; a member of the Advisory Board for the Forensic Sciences Training Program at the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner, NYC; and a member of the Harvard-affiliated McLean Hospital’s National Council, where she is an advocate for psychiatric research. She is also well known for her philanthropic contributions to animal rescue and criminal justice as well as endowing college scholarships and promoting the cause of literacy on the national scene. Some of her projects include the establishment of an ICU at Cornell’s Animal Hospital, the archaeological excavation of Jamestown, and the scientific study of the Confederacy’s submarine H.L. Hunley. Most recently she donated a million dollars to Harvard’s Fogg Museum to establish a chair in inorganic science.

Her books are translated into thirty-six languages across more than fifty countries, and she is regarded as one of the major international best-selling authors. Her novels are praised for their meticulous research and an insistence on accuracy in every detail, especially in forensic medicine and police procedures. She is so committed to verisimilitude that, among other accomplishments, she became a helicopter pilot and a certified scuba diver and qualified for a motorcycle license because she was writing about characters who were doing these things. “It is important to me to live in the world I write about,” she often says. “If I want a character to do or know something, I want to do or know the same thing.”

From the Paperback edition.

Brief Biography

Hometown:
Boston, MA and New York, NY
Date of Birth:
June 9, 1956
Place of Birth:
Miami, Florida
Education:
B.A. in English, Davidson College, 1979; King College
Website:
http://www.patriciacornwell.com

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Book of the Dead (Kay Scarpetta Series #15) 3.6 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 449 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I have read all Cornwell's Scarpetta novels and with each one I found myself liking the books less and less. Now I quit! I don't think I can endure Cornwell's writing or the character,Kay Scarpetta. Scarpetta, with each novel, becomes more and more self-centered and arrogant. It is apparent in each novel that she thinks she is better than everyone else. She constantly puts Pete down because of his lack of education, his grammer, and his appearance. (When he does lose weight, it is weeks before she even mentions noticing it to him.) Eventually, the only character I was left liking was Pete, and with this novel she even makes him unlikable. As I read 'Book of the Dead,' I felt like I was reading a first draft because each chapter began with an incomplete sentence stating the location and time. There were many, many places in the book where Cromwell did this. She also kept repeating, word for word, from previous chapters and from her previous books as though she didn't have enough new material for this book, or just didn't care enough to come up with something new. I usually read her books in one or two days, but this one took me almost two weeks to finish. I started reading and became angry with the characters. The story was confusing and I got bored with. I would put the book away for a while, soometimes even days, then would try reading it again. I kept doing this for the duration of the book. When I finally finished it, I felt drained. I have never liked the abrupt endings to her books, and this one didn't stray from that. It seems like even Cornwell gets bored and just wants the story to end so she rushes through to get it over with.
cindyg More than 1 year ago
I was saddened by the problems Marino and Dr Scarpetta ran into. I feel like they should have ended up together, Marino has been there for the Dr and it seems in the storys as shes more snotty or to good for him and it makes it harder for me to like her as a character.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
We have read alot of her books but this is the last one, It was so bad that we could not finnish it.And have gotten rid of it. We will never buy another.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I have read all of Patricia's novels up until this one. I started reading and discovered the most filthy language she's ever used. I started to throw it out, but decided to give it a chance. When she told of the attempted rape by Marino, of all people, that was it for me! She must have been having some type of repressed anger going on in her personal life. Go read Postmortam Patricia! Now there was a good book! Shame on you for this one! No more for me!
DeCe2 More than 1 year ago
Poorly conceived and executed. The author, usually one of my favorites, had a really bad book.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I used to love reading these books early in this series when Kay Scarpetta solved murders using forensic science. I gave them up when they became more about the disfunctional charaters in Kay's life than solving murders. I had not read one in a few years so I thought I would give them another try. Big mistake! This book is more wierd psychology than forensic investigation. All of the same charaters are still around and more messed up than ever. I won't try again.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This novel was definitely not the best Cornwell has ever written. The blatant airing of her political point-of-view about Bush and the war was unnecessary and distracting. People who say she needs to reread her first Scarpetta novels are right on. I used to love all these characters and I found that I had no sympathy toward any of them, except possibly Marino. The relationships between all the main characters has become so disfunctional it takes away from the story and you can't help thinking they would be better off apart from each other as opposed to working as the team they are supposed to be. Kay used to be someone who was looked up to, a wiser women who was both intelligent and warm. Now she comes off as distant and a bit out of touch. I will continue to read PC's books, but am disappointed.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I have read every book in the Kay Scarpetta series. I fell in love with the characters on the first read....and grew to love them more with each book.....loved their vulnerabilty, their weakness, strengths, and demons. They each had such power and depth as individuals. This book is so disjointed and so technical...I'm a crime buff...but it seems more about the technology than the characters....and nothing feels connected. I don't feel like I'm reading about the characters I know. I'm 3/4 of the way through...and I will finish it....but the only person who's feeling I understand are Marinos. Lucy and Kay are closed up....and Benton.....have long wondered what he is about.....and this book makes it worse...are we supposed to dislike him? Love your writing...and I'm always waiting at the bookstore for your next book...think now I'll wait for some reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I think Patricia Cornwell needs to go back and re-read her first book. I used to love her books. She was kind to Martino even though he drove her nuts and she loved her niece. She loved cooking for them. I miss the life they used to share.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I first want to say that I had a hard time staying awake to read this one. I had to reread several pages over and over, and it took a long time to make it through. I love Pete Marino, and I HATED what she did to his character.I have read everthing this woman has written but my question is who wrote this book? I started Double Cross by Patterson, and finished it in a week.This book delivers.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I was a huge Cornwell fan for years, but her last four or five books have been disappointing. Her characters, especially Kay Scarpetta, have become caricatures, and not particularly likeable ones. Marino is the only likeable regular character in the series at this point. No one ever seems really dead, and the situations become more and more unreal. Cornwell needs to go back to where she was when she began this series to save it.
Guest More than 1 year ago
You go Patricia, this is a great book! All my friends love it and they are buying it for their family members for Christmas. We just can't wait to see what Dr. Kay has going next. We like Lucy too, she is something else. What a wonderful writer you are. All we can say is you go Girl keep up the great work. I think what makes you such a good writer is that you live in the world you write about.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I agree boring
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Perverse reader. I no longer read the author but my son grabbed a couple of books from shelve in library for me and i thought she has moved etc from the book jacket and first chapture was a sexual torture. I was very tempted to put in garbage and say i lost it.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Not a spell binding book.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
What has happened to these characters??? I have read all of the Scarpetta series since the first book, and this one just makes no sense! I can't believe how bad it is. Am having a hard time finishing the book. Hopefully the author was just off her game for this one in the series , because usually they are so great you can't put the book down. This is what I am hoping anyway, because I purchased the rest of the series, including the latest, on my Nook.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I used to love the Kay Scarpetta books. I feel like they are slowly declining each book and I am reading them more out of habit then enjoyment.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I really don't understand how readers are complaining about how Scarpetta has changed and she has a huge chip on her shoulder. If you haven't noticed the gal has been through a lot! There is nothing worse than a stagnant book series ( a la Stephanie Plum-girl, at some point you've got to pick-up some skills and not act like an unprepared idiot ) Scarpetta can't stay the same! Hello, unrealistic. And, p.s. are you kidding me Pete Marino supporters??? That man is one step up from a pig.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago