The Reaping (Steinbeck and Reed, #2)

by Jess Lourey

Violence tourism was not a reality in the United States, despite what some conspiracy theorists believed. He was disappointed in Emery for suggesting it. A detective should know better.

Hmmm but i do wonder

“The dead don’t want us to mourn, Harry.” She squeezed his hands again. “They don’t want for anything; they’re with God.”

“They wouldn’t have known about the decomposition process,” Harry said. Autolysis, the first stage, lasted two or three days. The tissues broke down and carbon dioxide built as the bacteria the immune system had kept in check took over. It was a gruesomely exquisite reclamation of organic matter. But barring a significant injury, all the blood would remain in the body, and the green and black of necrosis would not yet appear. Pre-bloat, to an untrained eye, would look as though the victim were merely sleeping, cold and plump.

But neither spoke as they got in the SUV and pulled away from the mansion. Some words, if you waited too long, could no longer be spoken.

“A moment in time is not forever, Harry Steinbeck.”

Maybe that’s what family was. Not the people you’d been born to but the people you’d do the right thing for no matter what it cost you. The people you’d risk everything to protect.