This is the third book from Erin Hart featuring Nora Gavin and Cormac Maguire. Nora has gone back to Minnesota to work on her sister's murder case. Cormac has been summoned to Glencolumbkille because his father is ill. Through some challenges Nora ends up in Glencolumbkille with Cormac and her sister's murderer is found out.
I am so glad that Nora finally finds out what happened to Triona, her sister. Now she can finally move on with her life and be happy with Cormac. I liked how the story linked all my questions together in a tidy knot! I really enjoy these novels. I get to be "in Ireland" and learn about archeology when they are on a site investigating bog persons. I can't wait for the next one The Book of Killowen due in March 2013.
Death was close at hand, but the wounded creature leapt and twisted, desperate to escape. Seng Sotharith pulled his line taut and played the fish, sensing in the animal's erratic movements its furious refusal to give in. He would do the same, he thought—had done the same, when he was caught.
Sotharith sat on the crooked trunk of an enormous cottonwood that leaned out over the water and watched the river flow by. Sometimes as he sat here, suspended above the water, he whispered the words over and over again, intrigued by their strangeness on his tongue. Minnesota. Mississippi. He had been in America a long time—five years in California, and now nearly eight years with his cousin's family in Saint Paul, but still the music of the language eluded him.
High above on the bluffs, the noises of the city droned, but here he could shut them out. Sometimes on foggy mornings, he looked across the water and felt himself back in Cambodia. He saw houses on stilts, heard the shouts of his older brothers as they played and splashed in the river. The pictures never lasted long, dissipating quickly with the mist. Now the sun was rising behind him, gilding the leaves on the opposite bank. Soon he would have to scale the steep bluff and get to his job at the restaurant. All afternoon and evening, deaf to the shouts and noise of the kitchen, he would wash dishes, wrapped in his thoughts and in memories that billowed through his head like the clouds of steam that rose from the sinks.
To finish the excerpt.