Patrick Kenzie soldiers on with increasing disgust with his occupation as a private detective. He now has a wife, née Angela Gennaro, and irresistably cute daughter, Gabriela, to support. Patrick and Angela partnered twelve years ago in a missing toddler case, the subject of Lehane's earlier novel, GONE, BABY, GONE. I had never read this book, but found enough backstory included in the present book to make all the necessary connections. Now, twelve years later, Bea McCready has resurfaced. She is an unwelcome ghost from the past, demanding that Patrick locate once again her missing niece Amanda.
There is a strong noirish undercurrent to this book – the recurrence of undesirable consequences arising from moral choices. Patrick recovered the missing baby in the earlier case and returned her to her mother, an alcoholic who regularly shacked up with criminal low-lifes. More recently, Patrick's investigation led to the arrest of a would-be whistleblower. As a result a huge corporation was able to continue dumping toxic pollutants across eight different states. His latest investigation enables a 25-year-old DUI perp to defraud the family of a young woman he maimed for life. It was his fourth DUI charge. Thanks to a mother who was a superior court judge and a media mogul father, the other three failed to result in significance consequences.
Despite numerous and unsubtle presentiments of danger, Angie and Patrick team up on the search to find Amanda McCready, now 16 years old. Aunt Bea had struck a nerve. How had Amanda turned out given her negligent single mother? “Hardened” and clever are the only hints they glean. The leads are strung out like a breadcrumb trail: the high school principle who claims Amanda was on an Ivy League College track; a scattering of reticent school mates who hardly knew her; her sole friend, Sophie Corliss, who also seems to have gone missing; Sophie's father Brian; Sophie's social services caseworker Andre Stiles; and Sophie's boyfriend Zippo, whom Stiles identifies as a youth named David Lighter, who is now permanently unavailable for questioning. Sketchy hardly begins to cover many of these people, including Helene, the negligent mother, and her current boyfriend Kenny, a violent ex-con. Angie is on the verge of losing it when they interview Brian Corliss, Sophie's father. In a memorable exchange she demands: “'So, I'm just supposed to sit back and let an emotionally abusive parent swim in his own self-rightiousness....I mean is this it?....Is this the job? Did I forget it's just talking to people who make you want to scour your skin with a Brillo pad?'” Patrick can only respond “'Sometimes.' I looked over at her. 'All right – most times.'” (Location 148)
Lehane has written a serviceable mystery/thriller. However, where he excedes is in his acute portrayal of Boston class differences. He depicts the DUI perp dressed in expensive jeans trendily faded and ripped, self-absorbed and barely articulate. The Caroline Howard Gilman School for Girls which Amanda attended is the kind of exclusive institution that caters to behaviorally problematic daughters with the means to shop at Nordstrom's and Barneys and not the Gap regularly. Patrick currently does contract work for Duhamel-Standiford Global Security, a firm so discreet it never advertises. That would be too crass! Its clientele are even stratified. Old money, the kind that trace their descent back to the Mayflower, meet with the principal Morgan Duhamel at his Beacon Hill office; the merely wealthyt trek to the firm's sleek International Place suite. Aunt Bea is solidly working class with her prematurely lined face and flimsy jean jacket protecting her against Boston's wintry wind. When Patrick and Angie stop off at a small diner nestled in the Berkshires he notes that they are the only ones not wearing work boots, ball caps, jeans or plaid.
The plot is convoluted and not always believable, but it is pure Boston with its descriptive locales and varied dialogue. I picked this book up from a “freebie” shelf outside the library and am glad I did. It reminded me of Lehane's varied talents as a writer.