Rebus still walks around with his finger raised to authority, and they hate it just as much as always. He's the kind of guy that many hate because he is brilliant at what he does, and they are not. He seems to be drinking a little less than in the past, though he still sleeps many nights in his old armchair looking out on the streets of Edinburgh. Speaking of which, every time I hear Edinburgh mentioned, I automatically wonder how Rebus is getting along, before I remember that he's not a real person. s whose consciences have been gnawing away at them. We know how this works, so how about making it work?’ Rankin's dialogue flows so naturally that it's easy to dismiss his subtler gifts; no one captures the bleak grandeur of Scotland, or the mindset of those charged with upholding its law, in quite the same way. (Christopher Fowler FINANCIAL TIMES)

Needless to say, Rankin soon - once again - has the bit between his teeth. Rankin, as ever, does this better than most ( GOOD BOOK GUIDE)Rebus hasn't changed; he's as sharp, petty, curmudgeonly and likeable as ever. ( IRISH SUNDAY INDEPENDENT) Another sweltering month in Charlotte, another boatload of mysteries past and present for overworked, overstressed forensic anthropologist Temperance Brennan.

The 28th work of fiction from Scotland's most successful crime writer turns on five ominous disappearances – young women who went missing close to the A9 road over a 10-year period – and an entirely welcome reappearance. DI John Rebus, retired in 2006 after 18 cases in line with Ian Rankin's hyper-realistic policy of ageing his characters in real time, has now returned to work, again in line with actual police procedure, as a civilian consultant on cold case inquiries. Genius... Rankin once again proves himself to be the consummate master of crime (David Robinson SCOTLAND ON SUNDAY) Rebus has also decided to rejoin the force and has his application on the dining room table. Fate may have another idea for Rebus that may take him in a role he has never played before.Taut, compulsive and hugely satisfying, with plenty to say about the limits of memory and the dangers of historical idealism. If this is where Rankin is now, I’m not sure I’d want him to be anywhere else’ And standing in every bastard’s rain,’ he said aloud. The horn was sounding from the car behind. Its driver was in a hurry. He had meetings waiting for him, important people he was letting down. The world would crash and burn if this traffic didn’t start moving. Rebus wondered how many hours of his own life he had wasted like this. Or sitting on a surveillance. Or filling in forms, requisitions and time sheets. When his phone pinged with a message, he saw it was from his boss.

He is seconded to the CID, where the most recent case is being handled by DI Siobhan Clarke and her unit. The serial killer has found his victims on the A9 highway and Rebus travels to Pitlochry and Inverness several times, driving as far north as his daughter Samantha's home. And so it begins, Rebus is caught by the need and the possibility of a serial killer. Of course, Rebus being Rebus, he gets his man despite being investigated by Complaints and despite Cafferty the gangster, a man whose life he saved, weaving plots to get him under his thumb.As always, Rebus' life has become more miserable than in the last book. He has been forced to retire and now is working in a cold case group. He misses the murder squad and his long-time partner Siobhan, which for several decades made up most of his life. He teams up with his old colleague, Siobhan Clarke, and soon comes under the eye of Malcolm Fox of the Complaints department.