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Siglufjörður: an idyllically quiet fishing village in Northern Iceland, where no one locks their doors--accessible only via a small mountain tunnel.
Ari Thór Arason: a rookie policeman on his first posting, far from his girlfriend in Reykjavik--with a past that he’s unable to leave behind.
When a young woman is found lying half-naked in the snow, bleeding and unconscious, and a highly esteemed, elderly writer falls to his death in the local theater, Ari is dragged straight into the heart of a community where he can trust no one, and secrets and lies are a way of life.
Past plays tag with the present and the claustrophobic tension mounts, while Ari is thrust ever deeper into his own darkness--blinded by snow, and with a killer on the loose.
Taut and terrifying, Snowblind is a startling debut from an extraordinary new talent.
Audiobook
First published October 1, 2010
“It was still snowing. This peaceful little town was being compressed by the snow, no longer a familiar winter embrace but a threat like never before. The white was no longer pure, but tinged bloodred. One thing was certain. Tonight people would lock their doors.”
“Was there any hope of getting to the bottom of this case in a place where everyone knew everyone else so intimately? Old schoolchums, former workmates, friends and relatives; everyone seemed bound together with innumerable links.”
“The smile and walk of a man, thought Tómas, who knew that he had escaped justice; because he’d done it before.”
The red stain was like a scream in the silence.
She lay in the middle of the garden, like a snow angel. From a distance she appeared peaceful. Her arms splayed from her sides. She wore a faded pair of jeans and was naked from the waist up, her long hair around her like a coronet in the snow; snow that shouldn't be that shade of red. A pool of blood had formed around her. Her skin seemed to be paling alarmingly fast, taking on the colour of marble, as if in response to the striking crimson that surrounded her.
"The water of the fjord was as still as a mirror and the town sparkled, although the sun was dippling below the mountains, its light illuminating only the peaks on the eastern side of the fjord."
"The Icelandic tradition of reading a new book on Christmas Eve, and into the early hours of the morning, had been important in his family's home."