moment.
“Nice shirt.” The pink and blue Hawaiian print stretched across Yellen’s paunch like a tablecloth at a luau.
“Nice whirly-do you got going with your hair,” Yellen snarked back.
“Gotta look good for my first rodeo.” I grinned.
Yellen grinned back. Then held up four tickets stamped H OMESTEAD C HAMPIONSHIP R ODEO . “Southernmost ropin’ in the continental US of A. Consider it your paycheck from the great state of Florida.”
“Will Jordan meet us there?” I picked up my purse.
“Yep. Got his heart set on riding a bull. Give new meaning to the name Dusty.”
“Ready!” Lisa joined us, now in denim, a tee, and a cowboy hat. “Let’s go watch us some wrangling!”
We trooped out into the soft Florida evening.
Not such a bad vacation after all.
Acknowledgments
As usual, I owe a debt of gratitude to others for their help on
Swamp Bones:
For her intriguing data about forensic ornithology, the aptly named Dr. Carla Dove, head of the Feather Identification Lab at the Smithsonian Institution. For his knowledge of pythons and all things Everglades, Dr. Skip Snow, retired Everglades National Park wildlife biologist. For his helpful information about National Park Service operations, National Park ranger extraordinaire Pete Lundberg. And I want to thank my daughter, author Kerry Reichs (
The Best Day of Someone Else’s Life, Leaving Unknown, What You Wish For
), for bringing the story of pythons in the Everglades to my attention, and for her unparalleled research skills. Any mistakes or inaccuracies are, of course, mine.
BY KATHY REICHS
Bones Never Lie
Bones of the Lost
Bones Are Forever
Flash and Bones
Spider Bones
206 Bones
Devil Bones
Bones to Ashes
Break No Bones
Cross Bones
Monday Mourning
Bare Bones
Grave Secrets
Fatal Voyage
Deadly Décisions
Death du Jour
Déjà Dead
Bones in Her Pocket
(short story)
YOUNG ADULT FICTION (WITH BRENDAN REICHS)
Exposure
Code
Seizure
Virals
Swipe
(novella)
Shift
(novella)
Kathy Reich’s bestselling novels have captured the attention of millions of readers and serve as the basis for
Bones
, the longest-running drama on the Fox television network.
Read on for an excerpt from Dr. Temperance Brennan’s next thrilling case,
Bones Never Lie
Chapter 1
I received the message first thing Monday morning. Honor Barrow needed me at an unscheduled meeting.
Not what I wanted, with cold germs rolling up their sleeves in my head.
Nevertheless, coming off a weekend of Sudafed, Afrin, and lemon-honey tea, instead of finishing a report on a putrefied biker, I joined a billion others slogging uptown in rush-hour traffic.
By seven forty-five, I was parked at the back of the Law Enforcement Center. The air was cool and smelled of sun-dried leaves—I assumed. My nose was so clogged, I couldn’t sniff out the difference between a tulip and a trash can.
The Democrats had held their quadrennial soirée in Charlotte in 2012. Tens of thousands came to praise or protest and to nominate a candidate. The city had spent $50 million on security, and as a result, the ground floor of the Law Enforcement Center, once an open lobby, now looked like the bridge of the starship
Enterprise
. Circular wooden barrier. Bulletproof glass. Monitors displaying the building’s every scar and pimple, inside and out.
After signing the register, I swiped my security card and rode to the second floor.
Barrow was passing as the elevator hummed to a stop and opened. Beyond him, through the door he was entering, arrows on a green background directed
Crimes Against Property
to the left,
Crimes Against Persons
to the right. Above the arrows, the hornet’s-nest symbol of the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department.
“Thanks for coming in.” Barrow barely broke stride.
“No problem.” Except for the kettledrums in my head and the fire in my throat.
I followed Barrow through the door, and we both turned right.
Detectives crowded the corridor in both directions, most in
“Nice shirt.” The pink and blue Hawaiian print stretched across Yellen’s paunch like a tablecloth at a luau.
“Nice whirly-do you got going with your hair,” Yellen snarked back.
“Gotta look good for my first rodeo.” I grinned.
Yellen grinned back. Then held up four tickets stamped H OMESTEAD C HAMPIONSHIP R ODEO . “Southernmost ropin’ in the continental US of A. Consider it your paycheck from the great state of Florida.”
“Will Jordan meet us there?” I picked up my purse.
“Yep. Got his heart set on riding a bull. Give new meaning to the name Dusty.”
“Ready!” Lisa joined us, now in denim, a tee, and a cowboy hat. “Let’s go watch us some wrangling!”
We trooped out into the soft Florida evening.
Not such a bad vacation after all.
Acknowledgments
As usual, I owe a debt of gratitude to others for their help on
Swamp Bones:
For her intriguing data about forensic ornithology, the aptly named Dr. Carla Dove, head of the Feather Identification Lab at the Smithsonian Institution. For his knowledge of pythons and all things Everglades, Dr. Skip Snow, retired Everglades National Park wildlife biologist. For his helpful information about National Park Service operations, National Park ranger extraordinaire Pete Lundberg. And I want to thank my daughter, author Kerry Reichs (
The Best Day of Someone Else’s Life, Leaving Unknown, What You Wish For
), for bringing the story of pythons in the Everglades to my attention, and for her unparalleled research skills. Any mistakes or inaccuracies are, of course, mine.
BY KATHY REICHS
Bones Never Lie
Bones of the Lost
Bones Are Forever
Flash and Bones
Spider Bones
206 Bones
Devil Bones
Bones to Ashes
Break No Bones
Cross Bones
Monday Mourning
Bare Bones
Grave Secrets
Fatal Voyage
Deadly Décisions
Death du Jour
Déjà Dead
Bones in Her Pocket
(short story)
YOUNG ADULT FICTION (WITH BRENDAN REICHS)
Exposure
Code
Seizure
Virals
Swipe
(novella)
Shift
(novella)
Kathy Reich’s bestselling novels have captured the attention of millions of readers and serve as the basis for
Bones
, the longest-running drama on the Fox television network.
Read on for an excerpt from Dr. Temperance Brennan’s next thrilling case,
Bones Never Lie
Chapter 1
I received the message first thing Monday morning. Honor Barrow needed me at an unscheduled meeting.
Not what I wanted, with cold germs rolling up their sleeves in my head.
Nevertheless, coming off a weekend of Sudafed, Afrin, and lemon-honey tea, instead of finishing a report on a putrefied biker, I joined a billion others slogging uptown in rush-hour traffic.
By seven forty-five, I was parked at the back of the Law Enforcement Center. The air was cool and smelled of sun-dried leaves—I assumed. My nose was so clogged, I couldn’t sniff out the difference between a tulip and a trash can.
The Democrats had held their quadrennial soirée in Charlotte in 2012. Tens of thousands came to praise or protest and to nominate a candidate. The city had spent $50 million on security, and as a result, the ground floor of the Law Enforcement Center, once an open lobby, now looked like the bridge of the starship
Enterprise
. Circular wooden barrier. Bulletproof glass. Monitors displaying the building’s every scar and pimple, inside and out.
After signing the register, I swiped my security card and rode to the second floor.
Barrow was passing as the elevator hummed to a stop and opened. Beyond him, through the door he was entering, arrows on a green background directed
Crimes Against Property
to the left,
Crimes Against Persons
to the right. Above the arrows, the hornet’s-nest symbol of the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department.
“Thanks for coming in.” Barrow barely broke stride.
“No problem.” Except for the kettledrums in my head and the fire in my throat.
I followed Barrow through the door, and we both turned right.
Detectives crowded the corridor in both directions, most in
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