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Summary
Summary
Teenager Luke Mullen is missing. He was last seen by schoolmates getting into a car with an older woman, and it is unclear whether he has disappeared voluntarily or been abducted.
Police looking for the boy are pretty certain they are dealing with a missing-persons case. The son of a former police officer, Luke has no history of being out of touch, no track record of truancy or misbehavior. And they know that the longer he is missing, the more likely he is to turn up dead.
Then the videotape arrives. . . .
On special assignment, Detective Inspector Tom Thorne searches desperately for the boy and for anyone who might have a grudge against him or his father, former detective Tony Mullen. As someone responsible for convicting many tough villains in his time, Luke's father is asked to list a few potential suspects. But it is the names Mullen carefully omits from the list that intrigue Thorne. Has Mullen simply forgotten about the criminal who threatened him? Is he so distraught in the emotional trauma of his son's disappearance? Or is he hiding something?
When the kidnapper demonstrates, shockingly, that he is not reluctant to kill, Thorne knows he does not have the luxury of time. He must dig hard and deep into old cases and past lives. He learns that secrets are as easily hidden as bodies, and that even if Luke Mullen is still alive, making assumptions is the quickest way to get him dead and buried.
Author Notes
Mark Billingham was born in Birmingham, England on July 2, 1961. He worked as an actor, a TV writer, and stand-up comedian before writing his first novel, Sleepyhead, which was published in 2001. His other works include the Tom Thorne series, In the Dark, and the Triskellion series, which he writes under the pseudonym Will Peterson.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (3)
Publisher's Weekly Review
British author Billingham's taut sixth procedural to feature London policeman Tom Thorne (after Lifeless) establishes him as one of the best new hard-boiled voices. Assigned to investigate the kidnapping of 16-year-old Luke Mullen, DI Tom Thorne knows it won't be a straightforward case when he discovers the boy's father is ex-Det. Chief Supt. Tony Mullen. As Thorne and his new partner, DI Louise Porter, dig deeper into the kidnapping, they discover unsettling connections to an unsolved hate crime and to Grant Freestone, a wanted man with a grudge against the senior Mullen. An unexpected twist in the case turns kidnapping into murder, and Thorne and Porter are thrust into a dangerous game of cat and mouse against a criminal with disturbing ties to the police force itself. With its effortless point-of-view shifts that illuminate the unfolding stories from myriad angles, this superb suspense thriller cements Billingham's place along with such American heavyweights as Michael Connelly and Dennis Lehane. (Aug.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Booklist Review
The sixth entry in the Tom Thorne series finds the London homicide detective assigned to a kidnap detail seeking out the teenage son of a retired police official. Soon after Thorne admits he needs a body to really sink his teeth into a case, he gets two--the kidnappers. They're found slashed to death, the teen's prints are all over the knife, and he has disappeared. But Thorne believes the young man's been reabducted, and he digs into the father's past to find out who might have done it. He starts with the man the ex-cop failed to place on his list of known enemies, a child molester on the lam for murder. Meanwhile, Thorne copes with a steadily worsening back injury, late-night appearances by his dead father, and the romantic travails of his best friend, medical examiner Phil Hendricks. On the bright side, his kidnap-squad counterpart seems to fancy him when she is not freezing him out of the investigation. Billingham is a television writer, and Thorne's ripe to star in one of those deliciously dour procedurals the Brits are so skilled at turning out. --Frank Sennett Copyright 2007 Booklist
Kirkus Review
Want to know why DI Tom Thorne is such a depressive type? Just take a look at his caseload. The centerpiece in Tom Thorne's sixth outing (The Burning Girl, 2005, etc.) is the kidnapping of Luke Mullen, 16, whose parents didn't even phone the CID until he'd been missing for three days. We just thought he was staying with a mate on Friday night, they tell the Kidnap Unit unconvincingly on Monday. Even though there's been no ransom demand, Thorne can find no excuse for Luke's father Tony, who put in years on the job before resigning as a Chief Superintendent in 2001, the year after Grant Freestone, a pedophile who'd threatened Tony before he was sentenced, got out of the nick. Now Thorne and his colleagues--especially DI Louise Porter of the Kidnap Unit, the latest recipient of Thorne's half-hearted romantic overtures--are bearing down on Freestone, mainly because Freestone's girlfriend has just died violently, right after she'd been informed of her boyfriend's proclivities, and they have no other suspects. Meanwhile, a friend of Amin Latif, an engineering student who was sexually assaulted and kicked to death six months ago, says he can identify one of the killers, even though this suspect, schoolboy Adrian Farrell, shows no signs of discomfort. At length, Chief Inspector Callum Roper, who heads the Special Enquiries Team, will uncover a list of people who met to determine Freestone's fate--a list that holds the key to the mystery. By that time, though, Billingham will have sprung his biggest surprise, a twist that gives the kidnapping a truly unsettling edge. Too many coppers, too many conversations that go nowhere, too little chance to examine the lead villain and too long a wind-up (the author refuses to reveal the perp's name even when all the relevant characters know it). But there's no denying the energy behind Billingham's probing, or the power of his dark imagination. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Buried Chapter One There was humor, of course there was; off-color usually, and downright black when the occasion demanded it. Still, the jokes had not exactly been flying thick and fast of late, and none had flown in Tom Thorne's direction. But this was as good a laugh as he'd had in a while. "Jesmond asked for me ?" he said. Russell Brigstocke leaned back in his chair, enjoying the surprise that his shock announcement had certainly merited. It was an uncertain world. The Metropolitan Police Service was in a permanent state of flux, and, while precious little could be relied upon, the less than harmonious relationship between Detective Inspector Tom Thorne and the Chief Superintendent of the Area West Murder Squad was a reassuring constant. "He was very insistent." "The pressure must be getting to him," Thorne said. "He's losing his marbles." Now it was Brigstocke's turn to see the funny side. "Why am I suddenly thinking about pots and kettles?" "I've no idea. Maybe you've got a thing about kitchenware." "You've been going on about wanting something to get stuck into. So--" "With damn good reason." Brigstocke sighed, nudged at the frames of his thick, black glasses. It was warm in the office, with spring kicking in but the radiators still chucking out heat at December levels. Thorne stood and slipped off his brown leather jacket. "Come on, Russell, you know damn well that I haven't been given anything worth talking about for near enough six months." Six months since he'd worked undercover on the streets of London, trying to catch the man responsible for kicking three of the city's homeless to death. Six months spent writing up domestic disputes, protecting the integrity of evidence chains, and double checking pretrial paperwork. Six months kept out of harm's way. "This is something that needs getting stuck into," Brigstocke said. "Quickly." Thorne sat back down and waited for the Detective Chief Inspector to elaborate. "It's a kidnapping--" Brigstocke held up a hand as soon as Thorne began to shake his head; plowed on over the groaning from the other side of his desk. "A sixteen-year-old boy, taken from outside a school in north London three days ago." The shake of the head became a knowing nod. "Jesmond doesn't want me on this at all, does he? It's got nothing to do with what I can do, or what I might be good at. He's just been asked to lend the Kidnap Unit a few bodies, right? So he does what he's told like a good team player, and he gets me out of the way at the same time. Two birds with one stone." A spider plant stood on one corner of Brigstocke's desk, its dead leaves drooping across a photograph of his kids. He snapped off a handful of the browned and brittle stalks and began crushing them between his hands. "Look, I know you've been pissed off and I know you've had good reason to be . . ." " Damn good reason," Thorne said. "I'm feeling much better than I was, you know that. I'm . . . up for it." "Right. But until the decision gets taken to give you a more active role on the team here, I thought you might appreciate the chance to get yourself 'out of the way.' And it wouldn't just be you, either. Holland's been assigned to this as well . . ." Thorne stared out of the window, across the grounds of the Peel Centre toward Hendon and the gray ribbon of the North Circular Road beyond. He'd seen prettier views, but not for some time. "Sixteen?" "His name's Luke Mullen." "So the kid was taken . . . Friday, right? What's been happening for the last three days?" "You'll be fully briefed at the Yard." Brigstocke glanced down at a sheet of paper on the desktop. "Your contact on the Kidnap Unit is Detective Inspector Porter. Louise Porter." Thorne knew that Brigstocke was on his side; that he was caught between a loyalty to his team and a responsibility to the brass above him. These days, anyone of his rank was one part cop to nine parts politician. Many at Thorne's own level worked in much the same way, and Thorne would fight tooth and nail to avoid going down the same dreary route . . . "Tom?" Brigstocke had certainly said the right things. The boy's age in itself was enough to spark Thorne's interest. The victims of those who preyed on children for sexual gratification were usually far younger. It wasn't that older children were not targeted, of course, but such abuse was often institutionalized or, most tragically of all, took place within the home itself. For a sixteen-year-old to be taken off the street was unusual. "Trevor Jesmond getting involved means there's pressure to get a result," Thorne said. If a shrug and a half smile could be signs of enthusiasm, then he looked mustard-keen. "I reckon I could do with a bit of pressure at the minute." "You haven't heard all of it yet." "I'm listening." So Brigstocke enlightened him, and when it was finished and Thorne got up to leave, he looked out of the window one last time. The buildings sat opposite, brown and black and dirty-white; office blocks and warehouses, with pools of dark water gathered on their flat roofs. Thorne thought they looked like the teeth in an old man's mouth. Before the car had reached the gates on its way out, Thorne had slotted a Bobby Bare CD into the player, taken one look at Holland's face and swiftly ejected it again. "I should make sure there's always a Simply Red album in the car," Thorne said. "So as not to offend your sensibilities." "I don't like Simply Red." "Whoever." Holland gestured toward the CD panel on the dash. "I don't mind some of your stuff. It's just all that twangy guitar shit . . ." Thorne turned the car on to Aerodrome Road and accelerated toward Colindale tube. Once they hit the A5 it would be a straight run through Cricklewood, Kilburn, and south into town. Buried . Copyright © by Mark Billingham. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from Buried by Mark Billingham All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
