Waters, Frank:The Man Who Killed the Deer
- gebunden oder broschiert 2006, ISBN: 9780671555023
Viking Juvenile. Good. Hardcover. 2006. 288 pages. Cover worn. <br>Fascinated by forensics, seventeen-yea r-old Cameryn Mahoney persuades her father, the county coroner in sleepy S… Mehr…
Viking Juvenile. Good. Hardcover. 2006. 288 pages. Cover worn. <br>Fascinated by forensics, seventeen-yea r-old Cameryn Mahoney persuades her father, the county coroner in sleepy Silverton, CO, to take her on as his assistant. But she n ever expects her first case to involve the death of a friend! Rac hel Geller, a beautiful young waitress, is found strangled in a f ield with a Christopher medal around her neck--clearly marking he r as the fourth victim of a serial killer. Cameryn is determined to help find Rachel's killer, and attending the autopsy gives her the first clue. But as she follows her instincts and gets closer to the killer, Cameryn suddenly finds herself on the verge of be coming his fifth victim! Editorial Reviews From School Library Journal Grade 9 Up-When aspiring forensic pathologist Cameryn Mah oney convinces her father, the county coroner of Silverton, CO, t o hire her as his assistant, she has no idea that one of the firs t deaths she will investigate will be that of her friend, Rachel Geller. Rachel is the fourth victim of a serial killer who strang les his victims and leaves a St. Christopher medal on their bodie s. The teen must put aside her emotional response to the murder i n order to evaluate the information clinically. In her relentless pursuit of the truth, Cameryn puts herself in danger of becoming the fifth victim of the Christopher Killer. Teachers and librari ans who are trying to reach their television-junkie reluctant rea ders should look no further; this novel reads like an episode of CSI. Each scene lends itself to a mental picture straight from so me crime-fighting show. The narrative gallops through a story lin e that is as engaging as it is implausible. Suspension of disbeli ef is made easy by the well-researched scientific tidbits sprinkl ed throughout the text, lending an air of credibility. There is t he sense that this is a pilot episode with people that readers wi ll see again as the series progresses, so the characters feel int roduced rather than fully developed. Despite these flaws, this is an enjoyable read that teens will appreciate.-Heather M. Campbel l, Philip S. Miller Library, Castle Rock, CO Copyright ® Reed Bu siness Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights r eserved. From Booklist Gr. 7-10. Ferguson's latest mystery-thril ler introduces 17-year-old Cameryn Mahoney, who has the annoying habit of challenging her elders (most of whom seem to deserve it) . She also has the unshakable desire to be a forensic pathologist --and a very strong stomach. The latter comes in handy during the autopsy of a friend, the latest victim of a serial killer whose signature is a St. Christopher's medal left with each body. The v ivid autopsy scenes are surprising, given the fairly routine stor y line and agreeable, though certainly not complex, characters. I t's Cammie's energy and chutzpa that really propel the story, and readers will sympathize with her as she struggles to decide whet her to keep faith with science or be sucked in by a charismatic p sychic. This is worlds away from the Nancy Drew college series in terms of gore, but CSI fans won't blink twice. Stephanie Zvirin Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved Ab out the Author Alane Ferguson is the author of numerous novels an d mysteries, including the Edgar Award-winning Show Me the Eviden ce. She does intensive research for her books, attending autopsie s and interviewing forensic pathologists as she delves into the f ascinating world of medical examiners. Ms. Ferguson lives with h er family near the foothills of the Colorado Rockies. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter Five YOU GUYS DON'T HAVE TO wait here with me, Cameryn said, drumming the steering wheel nervously. The bell's going to ring any second, a nd . . . I don't know, I just . . . She didn't finish the sentenc e. It felt like she couldn't string her words together, or worse, her thoughts. It was hard to make anything inside her head line up. Instead, her syllables spun like autumn leaves caught in a wh irligig of air. It was all the crazy talk of Jewel that was makin g her think sideways. She had to pull herself together. Don't wo rry about me; I don't care if I'm late, Adam announced from the b ackseat. I mean, I'm still trying to take it all in. Somebody's d ead. He shook his head and exclaimed, Man. It's just like Jewel s aid last night. We don't know that--right now we don't know anyt hing except someone died. And, you guys know not to say anything to anyone at school, right? Cameryn said for the third time. Reme mber, my dad said he didn't want reporters showing up. It's still a crime scene. We've got to get it all sorted out. We already p romised we wouldn't say a word, Lyric replied. Don't worry, we'll keep our mouths shut. But, you do realize this is going to be a Christopher killing. When the media catches wind of what happened , it's going to get crazy. You need to prepare yourself. It's no t the Christopher Killer, Cameryn said, her voice sharp. Okay, it 's a possible murder--and I say possible because we haven't even been to the scene yet to know for sure--but that doesn't mean it' s the murder. I mean, you just made a huge leap in logic. I want to stick to facts. The fact is this--a murdered girl in the moun tains is just what Dr. Jewel saw in his vision, Lyric told her ca lmly. The orange soil. The body by water. I don't care if you bel ieve me now or not, because you will believe as soon as you get t here. But Cameryn would hear none of it. Statistically, there ha ve been lots of murders since Jewel made his prediction. And by t he way, where was Dr. Jewel when he 'saw' all this, anyway? New Mexico, Adam answered. From his coat pocket he pulled out a cigar ette and rolled it between his hands. Cameryn turned in her seat so she could watch him. You're not going to light that, are you? she asked. Adam shook his head. See, right now Jewel's holding a live psychic convention down there in Santa Fe. But you can't le t the distance throw you, because with mediums, space and time an d all of those existential limitations no longer exist. It's stil l hard to get my head around this. I knew Jewel had power, but I got to admit this is freaking weird. He stopped rolling his cigar ette and looked up through his curtain of hair. Do you think the dead girl is someone from Silverton? Her heart skipped a beat. N o way, she said. Cameryn didn't know why she was so sure, but she was. It's got to be a tourist. We've still had a lot of people c oming up on the train since the weather's been so good. It'll be an out-of-towner. And I'm getting out of the car--I think I need some air. As if on cue, the three of them spilled out of the car . It was harder for Adam. He exited legs-first, unfolding himself , piece by piece, as though he were a piece of collapsible gear t hat needed to be reassembled outside its box. Lyric reached aroun d him to grab her backpack, and when she did, she accidentally bu mped against him. Sorry, she said softly. Crossing her arms, Cam eryn leaned against the side of the Jeep and waited. It was only eight thirty and already the air was warming up. October weather in Silverton could be schizophrenic. The last few days had brough t cool temperatures in the mornings and evenings only, when the s ky was still purple-blue and the stars mere pricks of pale light. The middle of the day, however, had been uncharacteristically wa rm. The higher than normal temperatures, she knew, would make her father's job--her job--that much harder. She knew a body would decompose fast in the heat. Insects, especially blowflies, honed in on their mark within hours and laid their eggs into any availa ble flesh. That was the science of it. A short while later maggot s would emerge, a wriggling white mass capable of stripping a cor pse to the bone within weeks, depending on temperature and humidi ty levels, which meant precious evidence could be lost quickly. And that wasn't even factoring in the animal activity that would inevitably occur when a body was left in the wild. Mentally she t ried to prepare herself for what she might see, but how could she steel her insides for what lay at Smith Fork? Was it only last w eek that she'd seen the man in the bathtub? It seemed like a life time ago that she'd retched from the smell. Today, Cameryn realiz ed, could be much, much worse. Adam lit his cigarette with a pla stic lighter, politely blowing the smoke away from Cameryn. His s moking irritated her. She wished the two of them would leave, but at the same time she liked them there with her--just one more co ntradictory set of emotions to sort through. The warning bell ran g, followed by the bell signaling the start of school, and still her father had not come. What's taking your dad so long? Lyric a sked, tapping her foot into the dirt. I thought he was rushing ri ght over to pick you up. Cameryn shrugged. He might have stopped to get a white body bag. They're supposed to use white ones when it's a murder. That's what the books say, anyway. Why white? Ada m asked. Already he was working on a second cigarette. A bit of p aper had stuck to his bottom lip, which he carefully pinched off. Because evidence left inside the bag is easier to spot. Adam n odded. He took a drag and exhaled. Man, how do you know this stuf f? I read, she answered. I study. I focus on things you can see, taste, smell, and test. Then I throw in a rosary for Mammaw and I'm good to go. And they say I'm twisted. At that moment Patric k's station wagon whipped around the corner and into the parking lot. From the way he clutched the steering wheel she could tell h e was upset. Dad! she cried, waving frantically. Over here! When he saw her he flipped a U-turn in front of the school, so close his wheel bounced up on the curb. He slowed down as he approached them. The passenger-side window was already down, and he scooped the air with his hand, ordering her in. Come on, they're waiting for us! A jolt of electricity shot through Cameryn as she hoppe d inside the car and buckled up. Adam and Lyric gave a wave as th e station wagon pulled away. She watched them as they grew smalle r in the distance, Adam, as tall and thin as a poplar tree next t o Lyric's full evergreen frame. Lyric's backpack slumped between them like a tired dog. The station wagon turned onto Greene, and soon the car was heading south along the Million Dollar Highway, so named because it cost the state well over a million dollars t o carve it into the high mountains. Patrick said nothing; his pos ture behind the wheel was ramrod straight, and his head grazed th e ceiling of the car, bending his hair back like the bristles of an old scrub brush. I'm sorry to make you miss school, he said. I almost didn't call you, but since it's a murder, well, I need a ll the help I can get. It's okay, Dad. You know I've got all As. So do they know who it is? she asked. Patrick shook his head. N ot yet. With all the tourists running around it's most likely one of them and . . . well, it's bad no matter who it is, right? Jac obs said the victim appears young. Shaking his head, he looked as though he were trying the clear his thoughts. But we've got to g et to business. I've brought two cameras--one'll take color and t he other black and white. So here's what I want you to do: I want you to photograph the body from every conceivable angle using bo th the cameras--color first. That'll be important. He rubbed a ha nd over his chin. It's been years since I've done homicide and I' m trying to remember every single step. The cameras and other sup plies are in that knapsack in the back. Can I put you in charge? Cameryn nodded. She'd taken many photographs in her life, just n ever of something so grim. Good. I've got to admit it, I'm glad you're with me. He wore a long-sleeved plaid shirt beneath a navy bomber jacket. Patrick tugged at the collar of his shirt and the n, with one hand, unfastened the top button. The way you handled yourself with Robertson, Cam, well, you were a real professional. I have total faith in you. And it sure doesn't hurt that you've been reading up on forensics. I could use some of that expertise. If she hadn't been so preoccupied with the murder she might hav e cringed at the compliment. When faced with Robertson's body the second time around she'd been able to hold her emotions in check . The difference was in knowing what was in front of her, of bein g mentally steeled. Stone-faced, she'd photographed the body, and both her father and Jacobs thought her a natural investigator, w hich she'd let them believe. And Justin, true to his promise, nev er said a word. But that was a different death, a different reaso n. This was a murder. Now they fell into silence. She looked out of the station wagon, to the pines that marched straight up the granite mountain in an endless evergreen army. The trees were thi ck at Smith Fork, and Cameryn suddenly wondered if there was bloo d there. And if that blood soaked into the earth to disappear lik e water into sand, what then? Were they supposed to dig it out? H er books hadn't told her anything about that--they probably hadn' t told her about a lot of things. She pictured blood and suddenly she had a strange thought: What happened to the blood they could n't reach? Would the tree roots drink up the blood molecules? If the roots leeched the blood, then the victim might become part of the trees themselves and live again, like the circle of life tha t Lyric always talked about. Or was it like her mammaw told her-- when you died, your spirit soared to heaven and you lived on stre ets paved with gold? Or were you just dead, like the deer she saw strapped to big pickup trucks that rumbled through Silverton eve ry fall. Robertson had looked plain dead. The old lady had looke d peaceful, sleeping, and thinking of that face Cameryn could bel ieve in some kind of angelic rest. But what happened with a murde r, when a soul was ripped out of a body and the person wasn't rea dy? Cameryn squeezed her eyes shut; it seemed as though her mind was jumping sideways again. She had to get a grip, to think clini cally instead of emotionally. She'd be no good at all if she didn 't get her thoughts clear. On her right she saw a sheet of water weeping from slick rock, and past that a wall of stone where the mountain had bee, Viking Juvenile, 2006, 2.5, Washington Square Press. Used - Very Good. Very Good condition. A copy that may have a few cosmetic defects. May also contain a few markings such as an owners name, short gifters inscription or light stamp., Washington Square Press, 3<
