Burning Truth by Alex Scarrow – 3.5 Stars
"Not every case sizzles—some just simmer. A lot."
By book three in the DCI Boyd series, you’d expect things to be settling down. But Hastings is proving to be less quaint coastal town and more “Midsomer Murders,” and Boyd? Still just trying to enjoy his chips without being dive-bombed by seagulls or emotionally compromised by trauma flashbacks.
We’re back with Boyd, Emma, and Ozzie (the world’s least helpful emotional support spaniel), and it’s comforting to rejoin this little trio. There’s warmth here—Boyd’s decency, Emma’s steady presence, Ozzie stealing socks. And yes, you’ll want to have read the first two books to really enjoy these moments. It’s not strictly necessary, but jumping in here would be like turning up to a garden party halfway through and not knowing why the parrot’s yelling obscenities.
The plot kicks off with a fire at Eagle House, which quickly turns from tragic accident to political murder scene. A disgraced former MP found tortured on a snooker table? Subtle, this is not. Add in a badly injured woman, some mysteriously vanished files, and an official from Parliamentary Protection sticking his nose in, and you’ve got yourself a full-blown intrigue stew.
The problem? The investigation takes a backseat for a surprising amount of the book. We get lots of excellent character moments—banter, garden parties, a foul-mouthed parrot named Fergie (truly the emotional MVP)—but the pace meanders. At one point, I found myself wondering if the team was going to crack the case or just politely outlive it.
To be fair, Boyd’s squad is still a joy:
DS Minter, eternally steady.
DC Warren and DC O’Neal, bringing that lovable odd-couple energy.
DC Okeke, still the smartest in the room and still somehow patient with all of them.
And SOCO Kevin Sully, with the best dry wit this side of forensic science.
The writing remains as approachable as ever—readable in a weekend, warm in tone, and peppered with humanity. It’s just that Burning Truth doesn’t burn quite as hot as its title suggests. For a good stretch, it reads more like a slow Sunday roast than a sharp crime procedural.
That said, the final third does kick into high gear, with a genuinely thrilling conclusion and a satisfyingly twisted motive. It reminds you that Scarrow can deliver when the flames finally catch. The humour still sparkles, the interpersonal dynamics are top notch, and Boyd continues to be refreshingly not-a-cliché.
Is this my favourite in the series? No. It’s a little padded, and I found myself missing the tight procedural tension of the first two books. But even with the slower pace, it’s still a solid entry—especially if you’re here as much for the characters as the crime-solving.
Recommended for fans of the series, and anyone who thinks crime fiction could use just a few more swearing parrots.