By Charles Todd
Unhealed scars of the nice struggle nonetheless torment Scotland backyard Inspector Ian Rutledge, and he contains with him the presence of the soldier he was once pressured to execute in the course of conflict. A haunted, broken shell of a guy, he has been despatched to the small coastal city of Hampton Regis to unravel a violent crime and to confront his personal tragic past.
An officer who served with Rutledge within the trenches of France ahead of being despatched again to England lower than suspicious situations has now been accused of savagely beating the husband of the lady he nonetheless loves. The suspect has taken the spouse hostage, threatening to kill her and her maid except Rutledge is installed cost of the research. even though the case painfully mirrors Rutledge's personal prior and the affection he misplaced to a different guy, he can't refuse it. while the subconscious brutalized sufferer vanishes with out a hint, it's transparent that this peaceable little city hides a vicious assassin . . . and secrets and techniques strong sufficient to kill for.
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Additional resources for A False Mirror (Inspector Ian Rutledge Mystery, Book 9)
I said it lightly enough, but all this talk was making me a little uncomfortable. I mean, it wasn’t like I’d never been in a locker room before. Guys are always commenting, and some like to strut. But I don’t think too many would admit if they stared. “They just . . don’t approve. Of the photographers, I guess. ” Jimmy rinsed pails, so I 25 really couldn’t see his face. ” Those kind of people? ” He did a one-shouldered shrug. “A couple candids here and there. I like candids, because it’s when they don’t think you’re looking that you catch people being themselves.
Sure, I’d never heard of him having any girlfriends, but I didn’t have any either. Didn’t mean a thing. I was busy. I had stuff to do. ” Shoving aside a stack of school crap, Mom perched on the edge of my bed. “I can understand that you’re angry. Jimmy should’ve told you before he entered those pictures in that contest. But he probably thought he didn’t stand a chance and, well . ” “That picture isn’t necessarily a bad thing. ” Then I got it. “Oh, great. You think Yale . . ” Mom got this defiant look.
I had to go that year, though, because I was president of the student council. We got there early to help the schools set up in the gym and lug in the boxes of pamphlets and junk they gave away to try to get you interested: T-shirts, key chains, chocolate-chip cookies, bottled water with the school logo. Pizza. One school even had a raffle going for an iPad, which I thought was cool. I even listened to the sales pitch just to get my name entered. Mostly, though, I went around to the different tables to make sure things were running smoothly and to see if the reps needed anything.