By Jonathon King
Together with his first novel The Blue fringe of nighttime, Jonathon King was once praised for his "powerful storytelling" (San Diego Union-Tribune), for his "stunning" and "superb" writing (Pittsburgh Tribune), and for including "new dimensions to the fashionable crime novel" (Michael Connelly). And, in a starred evaluation, Publishers Weekly in comparison King to James corridor, Robert Parker, and James Lee Burke. Now, in a visual Darkness, King supplies one other gripping, unforgettable tale. Max Freeman is looking for shelter from the everyday demons of his former existence as a Philadelphia police officer, in his secluded shack deep within the Everglades. yet his self-imposed isolation is inter-rupted whilst he gets a determined name from his ally, legal professional Billy Manchester. there was a contemporary string of suspicious deaths-all aged girls, all from a negative local, and all with big and lately sold-off coverage policies-which the police were not able, or unwilling, to enquire. Billy believes anything sinister could be at paintings, and so, to assist his buddy, Max needs to reluctantly pry the place he is not sought after, and act just like the cop he is attempting to fail to remember he used to be. to find an unseen killer, Max will confront not just the hazards of a forgotten Florida cityscape, however the unforeseen and darkish corners of his personal prior in addition. full of twists, turns, and a wide ranging evocation of a infrequently glimpsed underside of recent the USA, a visual Darkness confirms Jonathon King's position on the vanguard of a brand new iteration of crime novelists.
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Additional resources for A Visible Darkness (Max Freeman Novels)
Fifty yards west, through shallow water and thick ferns, I pulled up to a platform dock attached to my stilt shack. I tied the canoe to a post and gathered my fishing gear. Before climbing the stairs I carefully checked the damp risers for footprints. I do not get company out here. No one else comes to my door. Inside the single room it was dim, but I have so memorized its simple layout and content that I can find a matchbox with my eyes closed. I lit a single kerosene lantern and the glow grew just as fat raindrops start pinging off the tin roof.
Sometimes I stayed out at the shack for a month at a time without coming in. But I had the feeling I’d be back to the city soon enough. When Billy got onto something, he was relentless. If he wanted me in on this, whether to prove or disprove his suspicion, he’d have a plan. By the time I reached the boat ramp the sun was on its downward slide. A ragged ceiling of high cloud was drifting over the Glades, its edges already glowing with streaks of pink and purple. I flipped my canoe and started loading.
He kept his head down, but his eyes were always cutting, this way and that. No one saw what he saw, every day and especially at night. It was at night when Eddie first started to become invisible. Since he was twelve or thirteen he’d been roaming the night streets, and he’d always known every alley cut-through, every neighborhood fence, every streetlight shadow. Before long he knew without thinking about it; the timing on the traffic light at Twenty-fourth and Sunrise, when the last spray of summer sun came cutting through the empty lot of the rundown shopping center, when the streetlights flickered on and when the Blue Goose Beer Saloon closed and they brought out the last plastic barrel of garbage and leftovers.