The Bone Collector by Jeffrey Deaver
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  • I love Lincoln Rhyme's mysteries, though I wish I had read this before The Empty Chair
  • Rhyme, ex-head of NYPD forensics, was the best criminalist the nation ever had

    • by Jacinth K Lee
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      The Bone Collector was written by Jeffrey Deaver and published by Signet in 1998.

      I love Lincoln Rhyme’s mysteries, though I wish I had read this before The Empty Chair. This story came out as a poor second to the Empty Chair, which really had me on edge throughout the book.

      Maybe this is the first Lincoln Rhyme story, so there have to be more character development and explanations. Rhyme, ex-head of NYPD forensics, was the best criminalist the nation ever had; he was


      however, injured in an accident that left him a quadriplegic.

      Left with only slight movement in only one finger and his mind still functioning, he felt despair, and planned to kill himself. His old team came to him about a corpse found buried with only a bloody hand visible.

      The victim’s partner was still missing; death was imminent unless the police was able to rescue her in time. Rhyme soon involved himself in the case, which escalated into one of the most dangerous cases ...


      • in his entire career.

        The murderer, dubbed The Bone Collector, was interested in his victims’ bones. He had left clues behind for Rhyme and his team to save the victims, if Rhyme could figure them out in time.

        Amelia Sachs was introduced at this junction Rhyme enlisted her in his team, where she finally ended up being his eyes and legs. She was later attacked by the Bone Collector, who buried her; but saved in time by the team sent

        by Rhyme.

        The killer came as a surprise someone close to Rhyme. This book laid the foundation to the uneasy relationship between the two protagonists - that could be the reason it seemed slow-moving to me.

        Anyway, Jeffrey Deaver must have a really ‘devious’ mind ingenious to have developed such a fascinating character as Rhyme, who never fail to amaze me with his deductions and analysis made from mere collections of dust and debris; and descriptions from someone’s eyes.




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