Devil Bones finds Tempe back in Charlotte, North Carolina, where a grisly discovery in a hidden cellar plunges her into a bizarre world of voodoo, Santeria, and devil worship.In a house under renovation in Charlotte, a plumber discovers a secret cellar containing a gruesome ritualistic display: a semicircle of candles surrounding cauldrons, statues, effigies, antlers, goat skulls, dead chickens, and - most horrifying of all - the severed head of a young girl. In a nearby river, there's another awful discovery: the torso of a teenage boy.
A political maelstrom immediately erupts, led by an ambitious preacher turned politician. He blames devil worshippers, and is ripe for revenge.
Tempe must reconcile seemingly contradictory evidence against a ticking clock and an increasingly volatile public. Filled with Kathy's trademark fusion of authentic forensic science and white knuckle plot twists, Devil Bones is Reichs at her best.
"In an era when many mystery writers feel compelled to add forensics to their investigations but do so in a tentative, superficial manner, or when forensic scientists who move into fiction sometimes forge monstrous mixes of good science and bad fiction writing, Reichs is a standout on both counts. She's a double hitter, who has both a deep knowledge of forensic science...and a formidable way of incorporating science with character and plot in her Temperance Brennan series...Brennan's brisk first-person narrative is often wryly funny, especially when she lambastes other academics and various forensic bureaucrats. Her expertise is snappily and entertainingly delivered." -- Booklist
Kathy Reichs is forensic anthropologist to the medical examiners in North Carolina and Quebec and a professor of anthropology at the University of North Carolina-Charlotte. She is the vice president of the American Association of Forensic Scientists and serves on the Canadian National Police Services Advisory Board. The author of numerous bestselling thrillers, she lives in Charlotte, North Carolina and Montreal, Canada.
