By Yrsa Sigurdardóttir
"I can see why such a lot of individuals are keen about Yrsa's paintings. It's very attractive, clean, and exciting." -- James Patterson
"Iceland's crime queen." --The Scotsman
One of the best Nordic crime writers operating this day, Yrsa Sigurdardóttir has been released to rave stories around the globe. Now, with Ashes to dirt, she offers a dynamite and well timed mystery set on the website of a volcano.
In 1973, a volcanic eruption buried a complete Icelandic village in lava and ash. Now, hoping to make a few money, a group is assembled to excavate the positioning and switch it right into a vacationer vacation spot. Markús, who used to be while the volcano erupted, enlists assistance from lawyer Thóra Gudmundsdóttir to aim to avoid the excavation from going ahead.
When the digging maintains and 3 clean our bodies (and a spare head) take place within the basement of Markús’ youth domestic, Thóra starts to query Markús’ explanations for eager to cease the excavation. His reason behind the our bodies is complex, and the locals appear oddly reluctant to again him up. As Markús’ tale starts to solve, Thóra reveals herself with an most unlikely activity, protecting Markús whereas attempting to remedy a quadruple homicide which may rather well implicate her patron.
With unforgettable characters, unforeseen twists, and impressive mental suspense, Ashes to Dust is a riveting mystery from a brand new overseas celebrity.
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Thriller grasp Lee baby returns with an specific publication novella. in the course of a savage warmth wave and an notorious homicide spree, a blackout awakens the darkish aspect of town that by no means sleeps—and a tender Jack Reacher takes motion as basically he can.
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out, plunging the lawless urban into chaos. What does a vacationing youngster do in the dead of night? If that vacationing youngster is Jack Reacher, the answer's plenty.
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After he unintentionally shoots at a annoying standoff, FBI Hostage Rescue staff member Mark Sanders is distributed to St. Louis to paintings as a box agent and get his bearings whereas the undesirable press starts off to settle. simply weeks clear of returning to Quantico to renew his paintings at the HRT, Mark has an opportunity come across with an past love, Emily Lawson.
On a sour November night, younger Mary Yellan trips around the rainswept moors to Jamaica lodge in honor of her mother's death request. while she arrives, the caution of the coachman starts off to echo in her reminiscence, for her aunt persistence cowers sooner than hulking Uncle Joss Merlyn. petrified of the inn's brooding energy, Mary progressively unearths herself ensnared at the hours of darkness schemes being enacted at the back of its crumbling walls—and tempted to like a guy she dares no longer belief.
Antiques and ladies are particularly the single issues that I'm drawn to. Getting them within the correct order could be a challenge, simply because even a faux old will be completely fascination - specially if it drives a person to dedicate murder.
Antiques and ladies are what led me to Venice at the path of the killer, and there my modest abilities observed me blagging my means right into a activity as a travel consultant in addition to lending a hand as a sculptor. My credentials as a journey consultant have been as bogus because the forgery i used to be chiselling and it becan to think like in all places I grew to become, not anything used to be because it seemed.
Antiques and girls virtually bought me killed while the bullets began flying . . .
Additional info for Ashes to Dust: A Thriller (Thóra Gudmundsdóttir, Book 3)
Trying to keep the edge from his voice, he said, “I lived in Lexington until a few months ago and took some time away from my job. Since Gran left me the house, I decided to come here. ” “That’s what I’m here to figure out,” he said softly. There was something in his voice, Lena thought. She didn’t know him well enough to entirely put her finger on it, but she could hear the strain. And sitting next to him, she had felt the way he’d gone rigid even though he’d forced himself to relax almost immediately.
The shorts he’d worn the day before were draped over the footboard and he grabbed them. After dragging them on over naked hips, he headed downstairs. The muscles in his right leg knotted in warning. Almost in afterthought, he detoured by the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of Vicodin just in case. That ache could go from mild to holy shit in no time flat. He crashed on the couch. The plan was to watch some TV, veg out. He might not sleep, but he could shut his brain down. Avoid thinking about Mac.
Absently she reached up, rubbing at her eyes under her tinted lenses. “Dad was always pushing me to do whatever I wanted, whatever I could. Mom was more hesitant, but Dad encouraged her to let me try. After he died, well … she reacted by hovering. Clutching me too close. Those overprotective moms you hear about on TV sometimes? ” She turned her face toward his and grimaced. ” He bumped his shoulder against hers and said, “I’m enjoying the conversation. ” The somber expression on her face slowly faded, replaced by a smile.