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There’s just something special about a writer like Robert Parker. It is no wonder I’ve heard several of our great modern writers say he inspired them.

This book concludes the Jesse Stone series, or at least, the part that Parker wrote. I won’t be reading the six (I think it’s six) additional novels written by someone else. Just doesn’t seem right, in my opinion. I understand the desire to continue something amazing, but sometimes you just have to leave greatness alone and not interfere with legacy.

The end of the series didn’t seal up everything with neat little bows, and how could it? Parker had a heart attack and died after this one, so we will never know what he truly intended, but I sure as hell enjoyed getting to know these characters through the nine Stone books. Not quite as amazing as the Spenser books, but only by a hair. A fraction of a hair. I can only hope that someday someone feels remotely as close to some of my books.

I’m a fan of the show Longmire, and for some reason, I always imagined Longmire for Jesse Stone. That whole Tom Selleck thing never sat well with me. He was a great Magnum PI, but let’s leave it at that.

I’ve rambled a lot and not said much about this particular book. Here goes: it’s great. Loved it as much as the others in the series. Some subplots were moving in a direction that I hoped they would. Of course, the subplots are so prevalent that maybe they are the real plot.

If you liked the other 8 books, well, you don’t need me telling you to get this one.

Take care, world!