Prosecutor Alexandra Cooper is confronted with two cases: the so called "Silk Stocking Rapist" is back after a pause of four years, and a skeleton of a young woman is found during renovation works in a house in which Edgar Allan Poe lived. She was entombed alive in a wall...
I found Entombed a mediocre thriller. I wish the author concentrated on just one of the two cases and put the other case into another book. Instead, the book starts promising with the "Silk Stocking Rapist" case only to be moved more and more into the background as the case of the entombed woman develops... I also found the role of the main character, Alexandra Cooper, a bit unrealistic, as I doubt a prosecutor is so much involved in police investigations as she is in this book.
Quotes from the book
"Don't change the subject. You don't think that's going to stop me from starting a search committee to find a mate for you? Otherwise you'll take out all your frustrations on Mercer and me."
Often, when people heard the word "rape", they foolishly assumed something had occurred as much because of the woman's behavior as the man's.
For a bit of reward money, people were willing to turn in ex-husbands, unfaithful lovers, and ne'er-do-well nephews.
"It's one thing to find that she died – say of an overdose – or was killed, even, and then bricked up inside this wall. But if she was alive, and gagged, and then watched herself being entombed – well, can you think of a more miserable death?"
McKinney was deputy of the trial division, a wretchedly petty supervisor who seemed to take great pleasure in undermining my work. The week before Christmas his wife had thrown him out, embarrassed by his longterm affair with a coworker, and McKinney was flailing out in all directions as though making other people miserable would ease his own suffering.
"If you spent a little less time with your nose in your books and a little more effort practicing your social skills, you might be able to hold on to a guy once he makes it into your bedroom and under the sheets."
Funny how a good scare can improve the memory of almost every witness.
My pain was dwarfed by fear. I was in a box, smaller than a coffin. I didn't need to look, I could feel the wooden boards beneath my back, close to my arms on each side, and knew there was not enough space above me to allow me to pick up my head. Panic prevented me from doing what I needed to do most – regulate my breathing and conserve whatever oxygen there was available.
"Fat people are harder to kidnap. Wouldn't you agree, Mr Wallace? You never read in the paper that the victim of an abduction weighed in at three-fifty. They're always skinny broads like you who get carted away. It's simply a fact, and you can do something about it for the future, young lady."
I was fighting sleep because I was terrified of my dreams. The pain had subsided but the feeling of being entombed infused every one of my senses. I ached to shut down my body and brain, but dreaded the nightmares to come.
I wanted to tell him to shoot me – it would be faster than whatever he had in mind – but I didn't mean it. And I knew it wasn't his first choice of disposing of me because anyone out searching would hear the gunshots echo throughout this quiet preserve.
"It still excites me every time I think of what her final thoughts must have been when she realized that I was sealing her behind that wall. Alive."
"Information isn't of any value unless you use it properly."
"I didn't know they'd be creative enough to impale someone on that gruesome plant, but they're good at being bad."