THE BONE COLLECTOR
by Jeffrey Deaver
I wish I’d written this ...
... because it brilliantly updates a well-worn idea.
Sometimes it feels like all that's needed to sell well in the thriller genre is a gimmicky protagonist and a plot involving a serial killer that you can repeat often enough (with minor variations) to sustain a series. Thus, I approached Deaver's first Lincoln Rhyme novel with very low expectations. A quadriplegic detective investigating, yes, a serial killer … same old same old. Except, no, I was very pleasantly surprised. Deaver is a damned good writer. He has style, panache, and discipline, and has taken what is basically the Nero Wolfe set up and injected it with new life. The characters are wonderfully rendered, all full of quirks and fault-lines; the forensics are detailed and impressive; and the plot's twists and turns never let up. I enjoyed this one a lot, and as soon as I put it down, I started to miss Lincoln Rhyme, Amelia Sachs, and the rest of the gang. I'll certainly be paying them further visits.
From the publisher
Lincoln Rhyme was once a brilliant criminologist, a genius in the field of forensics — until an accident left him physically and emotionally shattered. But now a diabolical killer is challenging Rhyme to a terrifying and ingenious duel of wits. With police detective Amelia Sachs by his side, Rhyme must follow a labyrinth of clues that reaches back to a dark chapter in New York City's past — and reach further into the darkness of the mind of a madman who won't stop until he has stripped life down to the bone.
