By Nevada Barr
Park Ranger Anna Pigeon returns to stand her so much duplicitous foe—human nature—in Nevada Barr's New York Times bestseller, Hunting Season.
The quiet great thing about autumn on Mississippi’s Natchez hint is speedily shattered whilst Anna solutions a decision to Mt. Locust, as soon as a operating plantation and hotel, now a vacationer spot. however the guy Anna reveals in an previous bed room isn't any vacationer in misery. He’s approximately bare, and intensely dead—his physique bearing marks in step with intercourse video games long past awry. On a writing desk within sight is an open Bible with ominous passages rotated in red.
There are secrets and techniques that fashionable males during this God-fearing state desire to continue less than wraps—and Anna has stumbled right into a nest of them.
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Extra info for Anna Pigeon 10 Hunting Season
Perhaps Anna only imagined it because he looked too fine for everyday use. "Gloves," the sheriff reminded him. Gates nodded, a small tight movement that could be seen as either respect or insubordination, depending on what side of the bed one had gotten out of that morning. " The words erupted from the direction the coroner had taken. Anna went to Polly's room, the sheriff at her shoulder. The coroner had pulled on latex gloves but hadn't taken responsibility for his other extremities. His tasseled shoes were executing an odd little two-step in the tracks in the dust on the floor.
Anna thought about that for a moment. Mt. Locust, true to its 1802 history, had no electricity. Whatever had transpired in Grandma Polly's room had been done by flashlight. The candles in the sconces had never been lit; the wicks were still white virgin cotton. The globe on the oil lamp was sheathed in a fine, unmarred layer of dust. It was unlikely, though not impossible, that whoever had been there had happened to see the verse. Maybe the picture. Only a religious person would know it was Christ in the Garden.
His tasseled shoes were executing an odd little two-step in the tracks in the dust on the floor. " Jones asked. "It's Doyce Barnette, Raymond's brother. I figured he'd get himself killed one day. ' I figured he'd run his truck into a bridge abutment or fall off a roof. " Despite the less-than-flattering eulogy, the coroner seemed genuinely upset. Anna liked him a shade better than she had. Jones didn't say anything, but he pulled off his hat. Stepping neatly onto the rug, cognizant of the crime scene, he looked at the body.