Travelling back over a span of twenty years, detective Jacqueline “Jack” Daniels finds herself as a rookie entwined in the process of tracking a sadistic killer, code named “Mr. K”. The book twists back in time twenty tears, and then in a three-year increment to the current where Jack has not only identified the killer, but with no physical proof of his committing the crimes has now retired as a police officer. It is at this moment when she finds herself ensnared and captured by the very man she has been hunting for years.
Is he a monster, a killer-for-hire or just a little of both? His routine trademarks: putting salt in the wounds and placing a ball-gag in his victims’ mouth are ever-present. However the actual deaths have been routinely different—though a few evidently are favorites from the number of times they pop back up. After all, there are only so many ways to kill over one hundred people without repeating the method.
The details are gruesome and Konrath threads the story with sarcasm as thick and liberal as a street whore’s mascara in an attempt to slice through the horror. He expertly introduces enough humor into the storyline that stops the reader from running, screaming from the torture he laces the tale with. The dialogue is expertly woven. The scene when two detectives are sitting in the car eating dry cereal from a box will have you gagging along with them.
A no-holds-barred page-turner that will capture your rapt attention until the last page