Iron rails the rusty brown of old blood cut across a cracked paved road that leads deeper into the Lowcountry. As I drive over train tracks, it enters my mind that the Georgia Prison for Women is on the wrong side of them and maybe I should take it as another warning and turn back. It’s not quite four p.m., Thursday, June 30. There’s time to catch the last flight to Boston, but I know I won’t.
This part of coastal Georgia is a moody terrain of brooding forests draped with Spanish moss and mudflats etched with convoluted creeks that give way to grassy plains heavy with light. Snowy egrets and great blue herons fly low over brackish water, dragging their feet, and then the woods close in again on either side of the narrow tar-laced road I’m on. Coiling kudzu strangles underbrush and cloaks forest canopies in scaly dark leaves, and giant cypress trees with thick gnarled knees rise out of swamps like prehistoric creatures wading and prowling. While I’ve yet to spot an alligator or a snake, I’m sure they are there and aware of my big white machine roaring and chugging and backfiring.
How I ended up in such a rattletrap that wanders all over the road and stinks like fast food and cigarettes with a whiff of rotting fi sh, I don’t know. It’s not what I told my chief of staff , Bryce, to reserve, which was a safe, dependable, mid-size sedan, preferably a Volvo or a Camry, with side and head airbags and a GPS. When I was met outside the airport terminal by a young man in a white cargo van that doesn’t have air-conditioning or even a map, I told him there had been an error. I’d been given someone else’s vehicle by mistake. He pointed out the contract has my name on it, Kate Scarpetta, and I said my first name is Kay, not Kate, and I didn’t care whose name was on it. A cargo van wasn’t what I ordered. Lowcountry Concierge Connection was very sorry, said the young man, who was quite tan and dressed in a tank top, camo shorts, and fishing shoes. He couldn’t imagine what happened. Obviously a computer problem. He’d be glad to get me something else, but it would be much later in the day, possibly tomorrow.
So far nothing is going the way I’d planned, and I imagine my husband, Benton, saying he told me so. I see him leaning against the travertine countertop in the kitchen last night, tall and slender, with thick silver hair, his chiseled handsome face watching me somberly as we argued again about my coming here. It’s only now that the last trace of my headache is gone. I don’t know why a part of me still believes, contrary to evidence, that half a bottle of wine will resolve differences. It might have been more than half. It was a very nice pinot grigio for the money, light and clean with a hint of apples.
Copyright © 2011 by CEI Enterprises, Inc.
There’s nothing like a new thrill ride featuring chief medical examiner Kay Scarpetta to keep fans on the edge of their seats. In Red Mist, #1 New York Times bestselling author Patricia Cornwell opens with Kay en route to the Georgia Prison for Women to seek help on a case. Against the advice of Kay’s husband, Benton Wesley, an FBI Criminal Intelligence Agent, she has set up a meeting with the mother of a diabolical killer. If this woman, herself a convicted sex offender, can shed light on what happened to Kay’s former deputy chief Jack Fielding, murdered six months earlier, the risk will be well worth it.
Through her contacts at the Department of Defense, Kay already knows a string of grisly killings are connected to Jack’s death. What’s more, an Atlanta family murdered years earlier figures in as well, although how is still to be determined. One thing is for certain: When Kay started out she never thought she’d wind up entering a terrifying new terrain involving conspiracy—and potential terrorism.
As Red Mist hurtles toward its stunning conclusion, Kay is joined by Benton and her niece, Lucy, both worried since an attempt was made on Kay’s life. But Kay knows only she can stop the madness.
Hardcover Book : 368 pages
Publisher: G.P. Putnam's Sons ( December 06, 2011 )
Item #: 13-423249
Product Dimensions: 5.5 x 8.25 x 0.83inches
Product Weight: 13.0 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
takes way to long til the story begins and to much unrelated details to the case.first time reading a book from the author and dont think i will read her books again
Reviewer: ms b
I enjoy all the books that Patricia Cornwell writes. Hold my interest
Reviewer: Irene M
Unless something changes, this is the last Patricia Cornwell book I buy. I don't mind detail, but in the first boring half she states and reitterates multiple times the same information which now that I am two thirds trough no longer matters. IF I read Another it is coming from the library. Actually took a break from this one.....but as I enjoyed the 4 books I read during that breAk, the problem is with the author. No problem with Connelly, Bsldacci, Reichs, Evanovich catching my attention in a timely manner.
I have taken a break from her for a couple years and decided to see if things had improved, but alas, no.
She is the second author I have given up on with the feeling that every word is counted to make the min for a novel. The problem is the words are boring and not entertaining.
This is one of the slower moving of the Kay Scarpetta books. Some of the detail is important, however at times it is too much information. The plot was very interesting it just dragged in places. However, some of the "moods" and details Kay dwells on occur to women as they reach midlife so I can identify with them. There is the concern she feels for Lucy and Marino, even though she knows there is very little she can do about them.
Reviewer: Pat P
Kay Scarpetta is not a very likeable person. I do like most of the Scarpetta stories, but think the early ones were by far the best.