Karin Slaughter - Kisscut

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Kisscut: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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"Engrossing…
[with] meticulous characterizations." – People
"Like the atmosphere of casual malevolence in Shirley Jackson's 'The Lottery' or the contagious suspicion that fuels Rod Serling's 'The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street,' creepiness spreads like kudzu in Slaughter's small-town setting." – Washington Post Book World
"Karin Slaughter deserves all the praise she gets for her razor-sharp plotting and forensic detail. But for me the hook is in her characters and relationships.
They are right on the mark." – Michael Connelly
"The undertone of violence is pervasive, even at quiet moments, amplifying Slaughter's equation of intimacy with menace and placing her squarely in the ranks of Cornwell and Reichs." – Publishers Weekly
"A fast-paced thriller for those not faint of heart." – Library Journal
"It's not easy to transcend a model like Patricia Cornwell, but Slaughter does so in a thriller whose breakneck plotting and not-for-the-squeamish forensics provide grim manifestations of a deeper evil her mystery trumpets without ever quite containing." – Kirkus Reviews
"With Blindsighted, Karin Slaughter left a great many thriller writers looking anxiously over their shoulders.
With Kisscut, she leaves most of them behind…
It succeeds brilliantly." – John Connolly
"A tension-filled narrative with plenty of plot twists… This is just the ticket for readers who like their crime fiction on the dark side." – Booklist
"Impossible to put down… Slaughter hits all the buttons, providing an original and well-plotted story that doesn't let up until the final sentence." – Orlando Sentinel
"Karin Slaughter is an impressive new landmark on the thriller map." – Val McDermid
"Slaughter delivers a noir thriller complete with a brooding atmosphere that veers into Southern gothic tradition… [She] gives us an understanding about victims that only a well-constructed hard-boiled novel can. This is a novel that has staying power, because she makes us care so much about the characters." – Florida Sun-Sentinel
"Though her forensics and investigative writing place her in a league with Patricia Cornwell and Kathy Reichs, Slaughter's tweaking of the human condition is key to making her a uniquely original voice in the world of mystery and suspense." – Mississippi Clarion Ledger
"Karin Slaughter is a fearless writer. She takes us to the deep, dark places other novelists don't dare to go. Kisscut will cement her reputation as one of the boldest thriller writers working today." – Tess Gerritsen
***
Amazon.com Review
When police chief Jeffrey Tolliver responds to a disturbance at a local skating rink, the last thing he expects is to have to shoot a 13-year-old girl who's holding a gun on a fellow student. Then Jenny Deaver's autopsy reveals two stunning facts: she did not bear the murdered newborn discovered in the rink's restroom, and she had recently been genitally mutilated. With his ex-wife, pediatrician Sara Linton, Jeffrey uncovers a child sex and pornography ring involving Jenny, her classmates, and their mothers-a horrific enterprise that culminated in the killing that Tolliver will never be able to forget. This taut, chilling thriller showcases Karin Slaughter's skill at plotting, pace, and narrative, and will linger in the reader's mind long after the stunning denouement. This is a terrific sequel to her debut, Blindsighted, with two protagonists whose complex relationship will no doubt be a featured subplot in her next offering.
From Publishers Weekly
Aptly named novelist Slaughter (Blindsighted) brings back her horribly scarred cast of Grant County, Ga., cops and coroners for more murder, mayhem and horrific sexual violence. Pathologist Sara Linton, who has been dating her ex-husband, police chief Jeffrey Tolliver, is witness to Tolliver's fatal shooting of a teenage girl when the girl threatens to shoot a 16-year-old boy in a standoff outside the local skating rink. A search of the rink turns up a dismembered fetus in a toilet; Sara's postmortem reveals the girl had a long history of abuse most gruesomely, her vagina is sewn shut. Working the case alongside Jeffrey is Det. Lena Adams, herself the victim of a recent abduction and rape, who is also trying, with difficulty, to come to terms with the death of her gay sister. Questioning Mark, the boy who was almost shot, Lena gradually uncovers a true horror show of pedophilia, incest and kiddie porn, an inverted world where parents rape their children before peddling them to strangers for money and blackmail. Slaughter adheres to the traditional mystery format, but turns up the shock factor tenfold, demonstrating that the deepest depravity can be business as usual in small towns as well as big cities. The undertone of violence is pervasive, even at quiet moments (" Lena was able to pull her hand away, but not before she felt Grace's thumb brush across the scar… The touch was tender, almost sexual, and Lena could see the charge Grace got out of it"), amplifying Slaughter's equation of intimacy with menace and placing her squarely in the ranks of Cornwell and Reichs. (Sept.) Forecast: Slaughter's much-praised first novel, Blindsighted, put her on the thriller map. Kisscut, a featured alternate selection of the Literary Guild, Doubleday Book Club, Mystery Guild and BOMC, could make her a bestseller. 10-city author tour.

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Finally, Jeffrey nodded, giving Betty a pat on the back as he shook her hand, probably making an appointment to talk with her tomorrow. He extricated himself, then walked toward Sara, a sly smile on his face.

"Hey," Jeffrey said. Before she could stop herself, Sara was shaking his hand the way almost everyone else in the rink had.

"Hello, Jeffrey," Tessa interrupted, her tone uncharacteristically sharp. It was usually Eddie, their father, who was rude to Jeffrey.

Jeffrey gave a puzzled smile. "Hey, Tessie."

"Uh-huh," Tessa mumbled, pushing off from the rail. She skated away, tossing Sara a knowing look over her shoulder.

Jeffrey asked, "What was that about?"

Sara pulled back her hand, but Jeffrey held on to her fingers just long enough to let her know it was his choice to release her. He was so damn sure of himself. More than anything else, this quality appealed to Sara at a very base level.

She crossed her arms, saying, "You're late."

"I had trouble getting away."

"Is her husband out of town?"

He gave her the same look he gave witnesses he knew were lying. "I was talking to Frank," he said, naming the lead detective on the Grant County squad. "I told him that he's in charge tonight. I don't want anything to interrupt us."

"Interrupt what?"

The same smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Oh, I thought I'd seduce you tonight."

She laughed, backing up as he leaned in to kiss her.

"Kissing usually works better when the lips touch," he suggested.

"Not in front of half my practice," she countered.

"Come here, then."

Despite her better judgment, Sara ducked under the railing and took his hand. He rolled her into the back of the rink by the bathroom, tucking them into a corner and out of sight.

"This better?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sara answered, looking down at Jeffrey, because with the skates on she was a couple inches taller. "Much better. I really need to use the bathroom."

She started to move, but he stopped her, putting his hands on her waist.

"Jeff," she said, aware her tone was far from threatening.

"You are so beautiful, Sara."

She rolled her eyes like a teenager.

He laughed, trying, "I thought about kissing you all last night."

"Yeah?"

"I miss the way you taste."

She tried to sound bored. "It's still Colgate."

"That's not the taste I was talking about."

Her mouth opened in surprise, and he smiled, obviously pleased with her reaction. Sara felt something stir deep inside her and was about to say something-she had no idea what-when his pager went off.

He kept staring at her as if he didn't hear the beeping.

Sara cleared her throat, asking, "Shouldn't you answer that?"

He finally looked down at the pager clipped to his belt, muttering, "Shit," at what he saw.

"What?"

"Break-in," he answered curtly.

"I thought Frank was on call."

"He is for the little things. I've got to use the pay phone."

"Where's your cell phone?"

"Dead battery." Jeffrey seemed to get his irritation under control enough to offer her a reassuring smile. "Nothing is going to ruin tonight, Sara." He put his hand to her cheek. "Nothing is more important to me than tonight."

"Got a hot date after our dinner?" she teased. "Because we can cancel if you need to."

He narrowed his eyes at her before turning away.

Sara watched him go, letting a "Jesus Christ" hiss out between her lips as she leaned back against the wall. She could not believe that in less than three minutes he had managed to turn her into a blithering idiot.

She jumped as the bathroom door banged shut. Jenny Weaver stood there, looking out at the rink as if she was contemplating something. The teenager's skin looked pasty next to the black long sleeved T-shirt she was wearing. She held a dark red backpack in her hand, which she swung over her shoulder as Sara rolled toward her. The bag brushed against Sara's chest in a wide arc.

"Whoa," Sara said, backing up.

Jenny blinked, recognizing her pediatrician. She mumbled a soft, "Sorry," averting her eyes.

"It's okay," Sara returned, thinking to start a conversation; the girl seemed troubled. "How about you?" Sara asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jenny said, clutching the bag to her chest.

Before Sara could say anything else, Jenny walked away.

Sara watched the teenager retreat into a crowd of kids near the video game room. The light from the screens gave Jenny's body a green cast as she disappeared into the corner. Sara sensed something was wrong, but it wasn't like she could chase the girl down and demand to know what was going on. At that age, everything was a drama. Knowing teenage girls, there was probably a boy involved.

The lights came up as the ballad ended, and another old rock song blared over the speakers, the bass resonating in Sara's chest. She watched the skaters in the rink pick up the tempo, wondering if she had ever been that agile. While Skatie's had changed ownership several times since Sara was a teenager, it was still the hot spot for Grant County 's teens. Sara had spent many a weekend night in the back of this very building, necking with Steve Mann, her first serious boyfriend. Their relationship had not been so much passionate as an alliance, both of them united in one cause: to get out of Grant. Steve's father had been struck down by a heart attack their senior year and Steve had been running the family hardware store ever since. Now he was married with kids. Sara had escaped to Atlanta, but returned a few years later.

And here she was tonight, back at Skatie's, necking with Jeffrey Tolliver. Or at least trying to.

Sara shrugged it off as she turned toward the bathroom. She put her hand on the doorknob, then jerked it back as she felt something sticky. The light was still low in this part of the rink, and Sara had to hold her hand close to her face in order to see what was on it. She caught the scent before she recognized the texture. She looked down at her shirt where Jenny Weaver's backpack had brushed against her.

A narrow streak of blood arced across her chest.

Chapter Two

Jeffrey tried not to rip the pay phone off the wall, but that was exactly what his hands were itching to do. He took a calming breath, dialed the number to the station, and patiently waited through the rings.

Maria Simms, his secretary and the station's part-time dispatcher, answered, "Good evening, Grant County Police Department, could you hold please?" then clicked him onto hold without waiting for an answer.

He took another deep breath, trying not to let his irritation get the best of him. Jeffrey thought about Sara back in the skating rink, probably talking herself out of their date tonight. Every step he took toward her, Sara took two steps back. He understood her reasons, but that did not mean he had to like them.

Jeffrey leaned against the wall, feeling the sweat start to drip down his back. August was coming on full force, making the record-breaking highs Georgia had seen in June and July look like winter weather. Some days, going outside, he felt as if he was breathing through a wet washrag. He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt to let some air in.

A short bark of laughter came from the front of the building, and Jeffrey peered around the corner, to get a clear view of the parking lot. There was a small group of boys hanging out beside a beat-up old Camaro, passing a cigarette between them. The pay phone was to the side of the building, so Jeffrey was shadowed by the bright green-and-yellow canopy. He thought he caught a whiff of pot, but wasn't sure. The kids had the stance of boys up to no good. Jeffrey recognized this not just because he was a cop but because he had hung out with a similar group at that age.

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