A Hard Death by Jonathan Hayes

By Jonathan Hayes

Extraordinary forensic pathologist Edward Jenner returns during this explosive sequel to valuable Blood—an edgy, electrifying mystery set in a small-town coastal neighborhood the place not anything is because it turns out. Edward Jenner, brought in necessary Blood, has survived the terrible ordeal of the Inquisitor serial killings in ny, yet no longer the political fallout. His nation scientific license suspended, Jenner unearths himself banished to Douglas County in coastal Florida, operating as a medical expert within the balmy seashore lodge of Port Fontaine. yet there is a seamy underside to picturesque Douglas County. First Jenner unearths the our bodies of a murdered guy and lady decaying in a sunken vehicle. Then an nameless name in the midst of the evening leads him to a ugly discovery within the center of the Everglades. He reveals lines of a shadowy legal conspiracy, and shortly learns that he can belief nobody. together with his lifestyles at the line, Jenner refuses to stroll away and enable the murderers move unpunished. the result's darkish Florida noir, a fierce, edge-of-the-seat mystery from an rising grasp of the style.

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At least, so everyone kept telling him. Jenner saw no one for two miles, not even a fisherman. The Faxahatchee Canal was a straight line carved across the Everglades to contain the wilderness, to mark the start of farmland and tract housing. But on the far side of the dark water, the canal bank was crumbling and overgrown, now barely recognizable as man-made. The Everglades had fought back against the imposition of order, spilling over the edges, forcing through the boundary of concrete and blacktop.

Douglas County was a place where old money went to die, a place where no one ever died violently. At least, so everyone kept telling him. Jenner saw no one for two miles, not even a fisherman. The Faxahatchee Canal was a straight line carved across the Everglades to contain the wilderness, to mark the start of farmland and tract housing. But on the far side of the dark water, the canal bank was crumbling and overgrown, now barely recognizable as man-made. The Everglades had fought back against the imposition of order, spilling over the edges, forcing through the boundary of concrete and blacktop.

Jenner turned out the victim’s shorts pockets—empty, no wallet, no ID. No defensive injuries on the hands—most likely he’d been incapacitated somehow, bound or restrained in some other way. The legs and feet were also unremarkable. Jenner felt a fleck of water against his cheek, and looked up. It had darkened, and the breeze was picking up. Across the canal, out over the Glades, the sky was a bruised purple-black, and the bare trunks of battered cypress trees, lit by the western sun, were bone-white over the brilliant green saw grass.

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