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Average rating3
I have read other books by this author and found them serviceable thrillers, but this one is just absolute tripe. The writing is worse than anything by Dan Brown, repetitive and moronic. The plotting is thin. The ‘hero', presumably due to be a recurring character in a new series, is totally bland: uncharismatic and with no special skills. And Turner seems to think that by making him shout out “Fuck!” every once in a while it will truly convey the depth of feeling that he's experiencing.
I hated it, and by the end was just reading to see how awful it would get. I highlighted a number of passages that had me laughing and/or angry at just how bad they were.
At the shrink's, McNeal is talking about his murdered son, and has this incredible insight into his own psyche:
“There's an anger I can't explain”
“Son, listen to me. I'm proud of you. Easiest thing in the world to succumb to something like that. But that's not what we are. The McNeals are loyal. And true. Your mother, God rest her soul, would have turned in her grave if you had fallen for that woman's charms... But she raised you good.”
“One final thing: remember, take the battery out of your cell phone.”
“Why do you want me to do that?”
“So, we know you're alone and not being followed. Do you copy?”
“I'm sorry this happened, Peter. Truly sorry.”
“Who kills a fucking dog?”
“The same people who killed Caroline.”
“But why? It's a dog.”
McNeal nodded.
“I've been renovating our house, remember. I've got stuff in the trunk. DIY stuff. Builders' equipment. Tools. It's all in the trunk of my car.” Peter reached inside the trunk and hauled out polyethylene waterproof sheeting, rolls of duct tape, a five-gallon bucket, two large bottles of water, and a large bag of quick-drying cement.