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A Deeper Sleep
Author(s): Dana Stabenow (Author)
- Publisher: Minotaur Books
- Publication Date: January 9, 2007
- Edition: First Edition
- Language: English
- Print length: 272 pages
- ISBN-10: B005Q78KQS
Book Description
In A Deeper Sleep, her first novel since Blindfold Game, the stand-alone political thriller that made Dana Stabenow a New York Times bestseller, Stabenow returns to the popular and award-winning Kate Shugak series. Kate, a private investigator, has been working on a case for the Anchorage District Attorney involving the murder of a young woman by her husband, a man named Louis Deem. Deem has been the subject of investigations before, and he's never been convicted of a crime. But Kate and her on-again, off-again lover, state trooper Jim Chopin, who arrested Deem, are convinced that this time it's different, and he'll finally be punished for his actions. When the jury returns a verdict of not guilty, Kate and Jim are devastated, and like the rest of the citizens of Niniltna, Alaska, certain that a man has gotten away with murder. They can't help but think that it's only a matter of time before he's in the frame for another killing. Sure enough, a few weeks later a shooting leaves two dead in an apparent robbery. But this time Kate and Jim have a witness, and they're not going to let Louis Deem get away again. Or will he? Dana Stabenow, Edgar Award-winning author and New York Times bestselling thriller writer, delivers a gripping page-turner about one town's search for justice--at any cost.
Editorial Reviews
From Booklist
In her fifteenth adventure, private investigator Kate Shugak is determined to find the evidence to convict Louis Deem, who has been arrested and tried for several serious crimes but never convicted. When a double homicide occurs after his latest acquittal, Kate investigates. A witness places Deem at the scene, but Kate wants additional evidence to convince the jury. Deem is a dangerous character who intimidates witnesses, and Kate and her family won't be safe until he is in jail. Kate is a strong, smart, respected investigator and member of her Alaskan community. In fact, the tribal elders in the Native American community want Kate to assume a leadership role in the tribe's affairs, a role Kate doesn't want. Also on Kate's mind is her relationship with Alaska state trooper Jim Chopin: matters are heating up, although Jim is now the one showing some ambivalence to a more permanent relationship. An engaging plot, the fascinating Native American frame, the well-developed characters, and the vivid depiction of the Alaskan wilderness add up to another strong entry in this consistently satisfying series. Sue O'Brien
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Review
Praise for Blindfold Game "A taut, atmospheric thriller . . . The author paints convincing portraits of masterminds, mercenaries, and CIA operatives, and jacks up the adrenaline with a high-speed ocean chase."
--People magazine on Blindfold Game
"A tense and tautly written thrill ride that keeps readers hooked all the way to the explosive climax . . . By the time the plot kicks into high gear, the setting is firmly established as both authentic and believably dangerous."
--San Francisco Chronicle on Blindfold Game
"An action packed thriller... The rousing finale, ingenious plot and some strong characterizations will reward the reader."--Denver Post on Blindfold Game Praise for Dana Stabenow
"Every time I think Dana Stabenow has gotten as good as she can get, she comes up with something better."
--The Washington Times
--People magazine on Blindfold Game
"A tense and tautly written thrill ride that keeps readers hooked all the way to the explosive climax . . . By the time the plot kicks into high gear, the setting is firmly established as both authentic and believably dangerous."
--San Francisco Chronicle on Blindfold Game
"An action packed thriller... The rousing finale, ingenious plot and some strong characterizations will reward the reader."--Denver Post on Blindfold Game Praise for Dana Stabenow
"Every time I think Dana Stabenow has gotten as good as she can get, she comes up with something better."
--The Washington Times
"A cleverly executed thriller with an intriguing protagonist."
--
"An intelligent crime novel that reflects both [Stabenow's] love of wilderness and her understanding of the complex questions of profit versus the purity of the frontier."
--
"If you haven't discovered this splendid North Country series, now is the time.... Highly entertaining."
--
From the Back Cover
Praise for Blindfold Game "A taut, atmospheric thriller . . . The author paints convincing portraits of masterminds, mercenaries, and CIA operatives, and jacks up the adrenaline with a high-speed ocean chase."
--People magazine on Blindfold Game
"A tense and tautly written thrill ride that keeps readers hooked all the way to the explosive climax . . . By the time the plot kicks into high gear, the setting is firmly established as both authentic and believably dangerous."
--San Francisco Chronicle on Blindfold Game
"An action packed thriller... The rousing finale, ingenious plot and some strong characterizations will reward the reader."--Denver Post on Blindfold Game Praise for Dana Stabenow
"A cleverly executed thriller with an intriguing protagonist."
--The San Diego Union-Tribune on A Taint in the Blood
--People magazine on Blindfold Game
"A tense and tautly written thrill ride that keeps readers hooked all the way to the explosive climax . . . By the time the plot kicks into high gear, the setting is firmly established as both authentic and believably dangerous."
--San Francisco Chronicle on Blindfold Game
"An action packed thriller... The rousing finale, ingenious plot and some strong characterizations will reward the reader."--Denver Post on Blindfold Game Praise for Dana Stabenow
"A cleverly executed thriller with an intriguing protagonist."
--The San Diego Union-Tribune on A Taint in the Blood
"An intelligent crime novel that reflects both [Stabenow's] love of wilderness and her understanding of the complex questions of profit versus the purity of the frontier."
--
"If you haven't discovered this splendid North Country series, now is the time.... Highly entertaining."
--
About the Author
Dana Stabenow, Edgar Award-winning author of one stand-alone thriller, fourteen Kate Shugak mysteries, three Liam Campbell mysteries, and three science-fiction novels, also writes an acclaimed column for Alaska magazine. She lives in Alaska, where she was born and raised.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One January Niniltna This is just wrong, on so many levels, Jim thought. For one thing, he was freezing his butt off. Even if the front of him was plenty warm. For another, his boss might legitimately qualify his current activity as a colossal waste of Jim's time, not to mention the taxpayer's dollar. Crime had yet to be committed anywhere near or about his person. If you didn't count the one he was about to commit if Kate kept rubbing up against him like that. Her head was a very nice fit beneath his chin, even if her hair did tickle. She shifted again, and when he spoke, his voice was a little hoarse. "Are you sure you didn't get me out here under false pretenses, Shugak?" He heard the smile in her voice when she replied, felt the warmth of her breath on his throat. "Well, since it seems crime is the only thing that makes my company tolerable to you, I figured I'd find some." He disregarded what she said for what she meant. "I'm not afraid of you." She tilted her head to meet his eyes. "I make you want to run away like a little girl." "You do not." It sounded weak, even to him. She leaned back against him, warm and firm from chest to knee, and dropped her voice to a whisper roughened by the scar that bisected her throat. "Say it again. And make me believe it." He could have told her to step away. He could have pushed her away. He did not do either of those things, and the sound of the truck coming down the trail was the only thing that saved him. And, sadly, Jim wasn't one bit happy when Kate's focus shifted, too. It was an elderly blue Ford pickup minus tailgate and rear bumper, its passenger-side window replaced with an interwoven layer of duct tape, the body rusting out from the tires up. The engine, however, maintained a steady, confident rumble that indicated more beneath the peeling hood than met the eye. The homeowner had dutifully cleared the requisite thirty feet of defensible space around her house in case of forest fires, which in this era of dramatic climatic change were inclined to hit interior Alaska early and often each spring. This and the winter's meager snowfall made it easy for the pickup to crunch through the thin layer of snow on the driveway and pull around to the back of the house, where half a dozen fifty-five-gallon drums rested in an upside-down pyramid on a solidly constructed two-by-four stand, connected to each other so that the fuel from the top drums ran down into the lower drums, with the bottom drum connected to the furnace in the house by an insulated length of copper tubing. Kate and Jim had positioned themselves in a convenient stand of alders at the edge of the clearing, so they had a clear view of Willard Shugak as he got out of his truck, disconnected the copper tubing, connected a hose to the spigot, and began to siphon off the fuel in the drums on the stand to the black barrel tank in the back of his pickup. Kate swore beneath her breath. Jim kept his arms around her so she'd shut up and stay put. When he judged that enough fuel had been transferred from the drums to the truck's tank to merit, at the $3.41 per gallon for diesel fuel he had last seen on an Ahtna pump, the definition of theft as provided for in the Alaska statutes, specifically 11.46.100, he said, "Shall we?" and turned her loose. Willard looked up when they emerged from the alders. When he saw Kate, he went white and then red and then white again. "Oh shit," he said, his voice an insubstantial adolescent squeal that sounded odd coming out of the mouth of a forty-year-old man. "At least," Kate said, boiling forward. Willard Shugak was all of six feet tall, but he dodged around Jim, keeping the trooper between him and Kate. His voice went high enough to wake up bats. "No, Kate, wait, I--" "You moron," Kate said, forgetting for the moment that Willard was almost exactly that, "what if Auntie Balasha came home to a cold house, her pipes all froze up?" She reached for him and Willard backpedaled, stumbling and almost losing his balance, both hands up, palms out, in a placating gesture totally lost on its intended recipient. Jim watched, delaying official law enforcement action, mostly because he was enjoying the show. "I wasn't going to take it all, honest I wasn't." "You're not even out of oil," Kate said, cutting back around Jim and catching the cuff of Willard's jacket. "I went out to your place this morning and checked. You were going to sell it, weren't you, Willard?" Willard yanked his arm free and darted back around Jim. "I would have paid Auntie back, honest I would!" "Sure you would, you little weasel. Howie put you up to this because you were behind on the rent?" Kate feinted a move, Willard dodged back out of the way, and the Darth Vader action figure peeping out of his shirt pocket fell out and vanished into the churned-up snow. Willard let out a cry of dismay. "Anakin!" He lumbered forward, his hands pawing wildly at the snow. Kate took advantage of his distraction and grabbed a handful of Willard's dirty blond hair to haul him upright. "Ow! Kate! That hurts! Jim! Help!" Jim had less than a second to revel in the sight of a man the size of Willard terrified by a woman the size of Kate before Mutt burst out of the undergrowth, mistook the attempted homicide for a game and romped around the three of them, barking madly while trying to catch the first available hem in her teeth. At this point Jim, tired of feeling like base in a game of kick-the-can, grabbed Kate and Willard by the scruffs of their necks and held them apart as far as his arms would stretch. If he'd been an inch shorter, he wouldn't have been able to pull it off with near as much aplomb. "All right, you two, knock it off." Kate kicked out with her right foot in reply, which would have connected in a meaningful way with Jim's left knee had he not moved it smartly out of range just in time. It threw him off balance, though, and Kate wriggled free and was on Willard before Jim could recover. She had Willard flat on the ground, her hands at Willard's throat and a knee in Willard's balls. Mutt divined that this was not a game after all and added her two cents' worth with snaps and snarls that came entirely too close to Willard's left ear for anyone's comfort. Willard was bawling, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open, face wet with a river of tears, shoulders shaking with big sloppy sobs. "I confess, I confess! Jesus, Jim, couldja please just arrest me? Please?" "Oh, for God's sake." Kate let him go in disgust and rose to her feet, brushing snow from her pants. "Get up, you big baby. I didn't hurt you." His eyes rolled toward Mutt, whose head was sunk beneath her shoulder blades, her impressive canines bared in a manner that could only be described as distinctly unfriendly. It was a sight made even scarier by the bloodstains and the ptarmigan feathers adhering to her muzzle, remnants of the lunch she had just finished in the next spruce copse over. Kate made an impatient sound. "Mutt," she said. "Graar," Mutt said to Willard, conveying a wealth of meaning in one syllable, and trotted more or less obediently to Kate's side, where she received a compensatory scratch behind her ears in lieu of bloodshed, always Mutt's preference. Jim stretched out a hand to haul Willard to his feet for what they both sincerely hoped was the last time. Willard gulped down a sob, smeared tears and snot across his face with his shirtsleeve, and said in a plaintive voice, "Couldja guys help me find Anakin before we go to jail? Please?" The state trooper building in Niniltna was so new, it squeaked. In a rare decision of foresight and wisdom, the state had built it on a five-acre lot next to the Niniltna Native Association building, whose authority rolled downhill to embrace the post and whose chairman, Billy Mike, was known to Park rats as a law-and-order kind of guy. The post was a solid structure, an unthreateningly bland beige square divided into fourths, a front office, Jim's office, an interview room, and the jail, two cells big enough for a bunk and a toilet each. Willard, Anakin tucked safely back in his shirt pocket, scooted inside and turned to watch closely as Jim locked the cell door behind him. He wrapped his meaty hands around the bars and gave them a shake. The door trembled but held. He appeared reassured, and looked at Jim, his dark brown eyes still wide. They were set far apart, giving him a fey, elfin look. It was a look seen all too often in Bush Alaska. "Kate's crazy, Jim," he said. "Tell me about it," Jim said. "Yeah, I heard you got a thing going with her." Willard's expression approached something like awe. "Man. You must have some kinda death wish." "Ain't got no thing," Jim said, and he might have closed the door to the cells a little more firmly than absolutely necessary. Kate was pacing his office, fuming. Mutt had wedged herself into a corner, her tail tucked safely behind her and her front paws as far back as she could get them. Kate rounded on Jim as he c...
