In this “smart and satisfying” ( Booklist ) award-winning mystery from William Kent Krueger’s stunning Cork O’Connor series, the charismatic detective faces his most dangerous case to date. Back in the saddle as sheriff of Tamarack County, Cork O’Connor is lured to the nearby Ojibwe reservation on what appears to be a routine call—only to become the target of sniper fire. Soon after, he’s called to investigate a mutilated body found perched above the raging waters of Mercy Falls. The victim is Eddie Jacoby, a Chicago businessman negotiating an unpopular contract between his management firm and the local Indian casino. Sparks fly when the wealthy Jacoby family hires a beautiful private investigator to consult on the case. But once Cork discovers an old and passionate tie between one of the Jacoby’s sons and his own wife, Jo, he begins to suspect that dark, personal motives lurk behind recent events. Murder, greed, sex, and jealousy hide around every corner in this maze of danger. But somewhere beneath the turbulent Mercy Falls lies the truth—and Cork is determined to find it. "Cork O'Connor...is one of those hometown heroes you rarely see...someone so decent and true, he might restore his town's battered faith in the old values." ― The New York Times Book Review “Cork, the sharp-witted small-town sheriff, continues to be an engaging and sympathetic series anchor; likewise, Krueger’s depiction of rural America and the cultural differences among its residents remains compassionate and authentic. Not just for fans of the series, the novel is a smart and satisfying mystery on its own.” ― Booklist “Fast-paced action and William Kent Krueger’s ability to weave multiple plot threads without a tangle make his new novel, Mercy Falls , a page-turner. Crime and complex family dynamics combine to create a novel that will keep the reader guessing through the final pages of the tale.” ― Denver Post William Kent Krueger is the New York Times bestselling author of The River We Remember , This Tender Land , Ordinary Grace (winner of the Edgar Award for best novel), and the original audio novella The Levee , as well as twenty acclaimed books in the Cork O’Connor mystery series, including Spirit Crossing , Fox Creek , and Lightning Strike . He lives in the Twin Cities with his family. Learn more at WilliamKentKrueger.com. Mercy Falls A Novel By William Kent Krueger Atria Copyright © 2009 William Kent Krueger All right reserved. ISBN: 9781439157800 How It Ends She woke naked on the bed, in a room she didn't recognize, her mind as clear of memory as the sky outside her window was of clouds. A huge pillow that smelled faintly of lavender cradled her head. She was too warm and drew back the covers so that she lay exposed on the white sheet like a delicacy on a china plate. She tried to sit up, far too quickly, and the room spun. A minute later, she tried again, this time rising gradually until she could see the whole of the great bedroom. The bed itself was a four-poster with a canopy. The armoire a few feet distant was the color of maple syrup and carved with ornate scrolling. On the walls, in elegant, gilt-edged frames, hung oil paintings of Mediterranean scenes, mostly with boats and angry, blue-black seas. The magnificent red of the Persian rug matched the thick drapes drawn back to let in the morning light. None of this was familiar to her. But there was one detail that struck a welcome chord: an explosion of daisies in a yellow vase on the vanity. Daisies, she remembered, had always been her favorite flowers. A clean, white terry cloth robe had been neatly laid out at the foot of the bed, but she ignored it. She walked to the daisies and touched one of the blossoms. Something about the fragility of the petals touched her in return and made her sad in a way that felt like grieving. For whom? she wondered, trying to nudge aside the veil that, at the moment, hung between her perception and all her understanding. Then a thought occurred to her. The birds. Maybe that was it. She was grieving for all the dead birds. Her eyes lifted to the vanity mirror. In the reflection there, she saw the bruises on her body. One on her left breast above her nipple, another on the inside of her right thigh, oval-shaped, both of them, looking very much like the blue ghosts of tooth marks. As she reached down and gingerly touched the tender skin, she heard firecrackers go off outside her window, two of them. Only two? she thought. What kind of celebration was that? She put on the robe, went to the door, and opened it. Stepping out, she found herself in a long hallway with closed doors on either side, her only companions several tall standing plants that were spaced between the rooms like mute guardians. At each end of the hall, leaded windows with beveled glass let in enough daylight to give the emptiness a sense of benign well-being that she somehow knew was false. She crept down the hallway, listening f