Chalk Valley, the debut novel from author D.L. Johnstone, is an amazingly well-crafted piece of crime fiction. On its face, the serial killer trope has been done to death. Where Johnstone absolutely shines and sets Chalk Valley apart, however, is in his characterizations. The story may be built around the skeleton of a serial killer, but it is fleshed out by the struggles and frustrations of the two men leading their respective investigations for the killer. Who “the guy” is - Phil Lindsay - is known from the outset; this isn’t a mystery. Rather, the portrait Chalk Valley paints is that of an intricate, painful examination of how the lives in the path of such an investigation are twisted and ripped apart.
Chalk Valley, British Columbia Detective John McCarty simply does not have the experience or the resources to handle an investigation of the magnitude he finds himself in charge of, yet at the same time his pride won’t allow him to ask for the outside assistance he needs. It doesn’t help that his boss is also adamant that the Mounties not swoop in and take things over, thereby making the Chalk Valley police department look small-time and incompetent. The pressure causes McCarty, who already had a drinking problem, to slip into a downward spiral that affects both his job and his marriage. The question isn’t if he’s going to implode, but when.
Baywater, British Columbia Sergeant Dave Kreaver, recently divorced and still coping with the death of his young son, doesn’t have the ego issues that are tripping up McCarty. Quite the opposite, actually. Kreaver is trying desperately to get anyone and everyone he can on the same page to help bring the case to a conclusion. He knows who the killer is, he just can’t find a way to nail the guy. At every turn he runs into some sort of stumbling block. Be it the innocent failure of officers to follow up on tips, the deliberate refusal of people like McCarty to cooperate, or simply the miles and miles of red tape inherent in the system, Kreaver just can’t seem to catch the break he needs to turn the tide. He gets tired of waiting, however, and decides to take measures into his own hands.
Not even Lindsay’s family is immune to the pressure. In fact, they may actually be the ones most traumatized by events. Though his wife has always known her husband has his secrets – what exactly is in that locked room in the basement she’s never supposed to enter? – she can’t bring herself to believe he could be capable of anything truly evil, not even when evidence to the contrary starts to mount. Even Lindsay himself starts to unravel as the story progresses, a process made all the more deadly by the inefficiency that is the morass of interjurisdictional law enforcement, a sieve that continuously allows Lindsay to wiggle free.
And throughout it all, Johnstone incorporates first-rate scenes of boots on the ground police investigation, forensic examinations, and behavioral profiling. Quite simply, Chalk Valley presents a balance of action, police technique, and character development that is incredibly rare to find period, and damn near unheard of in a debut. The year’s not over quite yet, but I highly expect Chalk Valley to be among the books making a strong play for a spot on my Top 10 Reads of 2012 list when January 1st rolls around.