I Know a Secret

One

When I was seven years old, I learned how important it is to cry at funerals. On that particular summer day, the man lying in the coffin was my great uncle Orson, who was most memorable for his foul-­smelling cigars and his stinky breath and his unabashed farting. While he was alive, he pretty much ignored me, the way I d ignored him, so I was not in the least bit grief-­stricken by his death. I did not see why I should have to attend his funeral, but that is not a choice seven-­year-­olds are allowed to make. And so that day I found myself squirming on a church pew, bored and sweating in a black dress, wondering why I couldn t have stayed home with Daddy, who had flat-­out refused to come. Daddy said he d be a hypocrite if he pretended to grieve for a man he despised. I didn t know what that word, hypocrite, meant, but I knew I didn t want to be one either. Yet there I was, wedged between my mother and Aunt Sylvia, forced to listen to an endless parade of people offering insipid praise for the unremarkable Uncle Orson. A proudly independent man! He was passionate about his hobbies! How he loved his stamp collection!

No one mentioned his bad breath.

I amused myself through the endless memorial service by studying the heads of the people in the pew in front of us. I noticed that Aunt Donna s hat was dusted with white dandruff, that Uncle Charlie had dozed off and his toupee had slipped askew. It looked like a brown rat trying to crawl down the side of his head. I did what any normal seven-­year-­old girl would do.

I burst out laughing.

The reaction was immediate. People turned and frowned at me. My mortified mother sank five sharp fingernails into my arm and hissed, Stop it!

But his hair s fallen off! It looks like a rat!

Her fingernails dug deeper. We will discuss this later, Holly.

At home, there was no discussion. Instead, there was shouting and a slap on the face, and that s how I learned what constituted appropriate funeral

Tess Gerritsen

Tess Gerritsen brings back Boston homicide detective Jane Rizzoli and medical examiner Maura Isles to tackle another baffling mystery . . . weaving a thriller that slowly unfolds in unexpected ways. . . . Rizzoli and Isles feel like real people, and readers who are fans of either the book series or the former TV show know there s an emotional angle to the proceedings and care about everything that happens to the duo. . . . Gerritsen writes effortlessly, and this is another stellar entry in the series. Associated Press
 
The unforgettable team of Rizzoli and Isles is back working on a chilling and difficult case. . . . The twists and turns this novel takes will force Gerritsen s heroines to face difficult emotions and their own biases. As always, Gerritsen is a master storyteller! RT Book Reviews
 
The characters converge in dynamic, diabolical ways and, in doing so, reveal past events that continue to haunt the present day. . . . Gerritsen continues to surprise with the depth and range of her storytelling ambitions. . . . Like the best of big-screen boogeyman blockbusters, there s complex villainy, a distortion between appearance and reality, and a third-act plot twist that will both surprise and satisfy. This one s a tasty treat with substance. CriminalElement.com

A must-read for thriller fans and one of the best works by Tess Gerritsen to date. San Francisco Review of Books

Suspense doesn t get smarter than this. Lee Child

The latest in the Rizzoli and Isles series mixes martyrdom, murder, and mystery. . . . [Tess] Gerritsen s fans won t be surprised at the grisly crimes or the graphic autopsies not for nothing is Dr. Maura Isles nicknamed Boston s Queen of the Dead. One character s statement that sometimes up really is down applies to this complex and enjoyable story. It s a worthy addition to the series. Kirkus Reviews

The bitterness of a Boston winter doesn t hinder