Product Description: In Loon Lake, Wisconsin, a woman is murdered, her body discovered under a bridge. But Lew Ferris, chief of police, has his mind on another case—a local woman claims she’s being stalked. Is the woman, a former nun with possible psychological problems, imagining it, or is someone really terrorizing her? The latest Loon Lake mystery, like its predecessors, depends on its characters to propel readers through the story: Lew, Doc Osborne, likable Ray Pradt (who, in this book, is angling for a part on a new reality TV show about ice fishermen), and the newcomers, alleged stalker victim Patience Schumacher and her husband, Charles Mason. The nice thing about the book is that fans of the series will enjoy reuniting with some old friends, and newcomers can jump right in and have a great time. Mysteries set in small midwestern towns (Mary Logue’s Claire Watkins novels and William Kent Kreuger’s Cork O’Connor series, among others) have become a definite trend. Recommend Houston to fans of this thriving subgenre. --David Pitt
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And, for those suspense loving teens....
We Are the Monsters
Product Description: While cruising a dark country road late one Saturday night, five high school friends accidentally kill an old drunk. Hiding the body is easy. Lying about what happened is even easier. But lies have a way of breeding Monsters in Springdale, Kansas, and the Monsters have come to play.
"Here’s the truth about growing up in a small town: you tell lies to survive.
I worked at a grocery store during high school, part time on the evenings and weekends. I saw plenty of strange things there: avocados stuffed in a barrel of fresh popcorn left to rot, a coworker who punched holes in the caps of beer bottles with an awl, pies marked “Verda’s own home-baked” which came frozen on pallets with the Sunday dairy truck. I found a body in the trash bin once, but nobody can prove who put it there. No one can prove it was there.
There were too many bodies for a town the size of Springdale. The name of the town is a lie, but the bodies aren’t. All of them. When you find a body lying with the outdated yogurt, wilted lettuce, and cardboard boxes, you make up stories to cope. You can’t process a body in the grocery store trash bin. A trick of the light, you say. The way the shadows fell across certain bits of debris like the coat hanger beast in a little boy’s bedroom. That head of lettuce, there, in the corner, looks like a human hand.
Bodies are bodies.
Dead is dead.
And lies are lies."