After more than twenty years of distinguished service with the Seattle Police Department, Jonas Piedmont Beaumont is now working for the Washington State Attorney's Special Homicide Investigation Team or, as it's more commonly called, the SHIT squad. But the more things change, the more they stay the same.
An eyewitness to a fifty-year-old murder has just come forward, and Beau has been hand-picked to lead the investigation. While undergoing hypnotherapy, a middle-aged nun unexpectedly recalls the grisly details of a cold-blooded killing she witnessed when she was five years old. Though fear has kept these memories repressed for half a century, they've now risen to the surface to cast a harsh light on a deadly plot that spans two generations. And Beau's caught in the glare, facing a ruthless band of coconspirators willing to go to any lengths to keep their secrets hidden.
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1 . Love this author
Posted February 27, 2010 by Diana , San DiegoI am in the process of reading every Jance book I can find. Very good writing; very real characters. Very entertaining without assulting the senses.
July 31, 2006
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Excerpt from Long Time Gone by J.A. Jance
Anyone who is dumb enough to live on one side of Lake Washington and work on the other is automatically doomed to spend lots of time stuck in bridge traffic. Such was the case one January morning as I headed for my job as an investigator for the Washington State Attorney's Special Homicide Investigation Team, known fondly to all of us who work there by that unfortunate moniker, the SHIT squad.
I live in Belltown Terrace, a condo at the upper end of Second Avenue in downtown Seattle. My office is sixteen miles away in a south Bellevue neighborhood called Eastgate. That morning's commute was hampered by two separate phenomena, both of which were related to a mid-January blast of arctic air that had come swooping down on western Washington from the Gulf of Alaska. The first traffic hazard was black ice, which had turned most of the minor side streets into skating rinks. Unfortunately, I'm a world-class procrastinator, and the winter weather had snuck up on me while my Porsche 928 was still decked out in summer-performance tires.
The other major traffic hazard was mountains not driving over them, but seeing them. For nine months of the year, the mountains around Seattle are mostly invisible. Hidden by cloud cover, they sit there minding their own business, but when the "mountains are out," as we say around here, and Mount Rainier emerges in all its snow-clad splendor, trouble is bound to follow. Unwary drivers, entranced by the unaccustomed view, slam into the fenders of the cars in front of them, and traffic comes to a dead stop. The frigid air had left the snowcapped mountains vividly beautiful against a clear blue sky. As a result, I-90 was littered with pieces of scattered sheet metal, chrome-trim pieces, and speeding tow trucks.