Crossing The Line
[police procedural / thriller]
(translated by Anne TRAGER)
Release date: September 23, 2014
at Le French Book
at Le French Book
224 pages
ISBN: 978-1939474148
***
SYNOPSIS
It’s Christmas in Paris and Chief of Police Nico Sirsky has an uneasy feeling that something is very wrong with the case he’s investigating. He and his team of crack homicide detectives follow the clues from an apparent suicide, to an apparent accident, to an all-out murder as an intricate machination starts breaking down. Just how far can despair push a man? How clear is the line between good and evil? [provided by the publisher]
My Review:
Four Stars
Copy received from France Book Tours for an honest review
The second book in the Paris Homicide series, Crossing the Line was a can't-wait-for-next-page read! Chief Niko Sirsky is in the middle of the action once again. With the help of his new love interest, Caroline, he is slowly recuperating from a leg injury. Although he is not a 100% he is thrown in the middle of a jewel heist and investigate the meaning behind body parts that appear. This book gave me the chills, the pace was so quick and the mystery was scary.
Molay is a very good writer. She knows how to keep the readers anticipating and intrigued with the mystery. Molay really keeps readers intrigued as Nico has a talent for balancing all the mishaps, making them seem believable and keeping the reader wanting to turn the next page. Fast-pace, scary and exciting!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Called, “the French Michael Connelly,” Frédérique Molay graduated from France’s prestigious Science Po
and began her career in politics and the French administration.
She worked as chief of staff for the deputy mayor of Saint-Germain-en-Laye,
and then was elected to the local government in Saône-et-Loire.
Meanwhile, she spent her nights pursing a passion for writing she had nourished since she wrote her first novel at the age of eleven.
The first in the Paris Homicide series, The 7th Woman,
won France’s most prestigious crime fiction award and went on to become an international bestseller,
allowing Molay to dedicate her life to writing and raising her three children.
and began her career in politics and the French administration.
She worked as chief of staff for the deputy mayor of Saint-Germain-en-Laye,
and then was elected to the local government in Saône-et-Loire.
Meanwhile, she spent her nights pursing a passion for writing she had nourished since she wrote her first novel at the age of eleven.
The first in the Paris Homicide series, The 7th Woman,
won France’s most prestigious crime fiction award and went on to become an international bestseller,
allowing Molay to dedicate her life to writing and raising her three children.
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ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
Anne Trager loves France so much she has lived there for 27 years and just can’t seem to leave. What keeps her there is a uniquely French mix of pleasure seeking and creativity. Well, that and the wine. In 2011, she woke up one morning and said, “I just can’t stand it anymore. There are way too many good books being written in France not reaching a broader audience.” That’s when she founded Le French Book to translate some of those books into English. The company’s motto is “If we love it, we translate it,” and Anne loves crime fiction, mysteries and detective novels.
Excerpt
Chapter
2
Dr. Patrice Rieux walked quickly along the Rue des
Saints-Pères, which bordered Paris Descartes University.
He glanced down an alley to a door that led to a grimy
basement. Students found the ghoulish atmosphere in the
basement perfect for hazing. Broken cabinets, decrepit
work surfaces, dented water basins, burst file boxes, and
battered carts were scattered all over the floor. A confusion
of pipes covered the ceiling, like snakes ready to drop
and bite under the dull fluorescent light. Not a place for
the sensitive soul.
A little farther along, at 45 Rue des Saints-Pères, a
group of young men, cigarettes between their lips and
deep circles under their eyes, milled at the entrance,
stamping their feet against the cold. Dr. Rieux passed
a large pine tree and made his way into the university’s
main hall. He squeezed through a crowd of students, most
of whom would never make it beyond their first year.
They were overworked, tired, and pushed to their limits.
The dentist climbed to the sixth floor. A yellowing piece
of paper taped to a glass door pointed to the anatomy
department. It was past the body donation office. A grim
waiting area was reserved for those who were willing to
give their bodies to science after they died but had questions
while they were still alive. The area consisted of a
small wooden bench against a wall. Posts with unrolling
straps closed off a nine-square-foot zone. The space was
almost always empty, as if sitting there could bring bad
luck. Actually, the bench had an aura of death.
10 Frédérique Molay
The legendary red door at the end of the hallway
opened with an ominous creak. Marcel appeared in the
hallway in his usual outfit, which was like a second skin:
jeans, immaculate white coat, and plastic clogs. He was
short and heavyset, with thick hands, white hair, and
a sharp eye. The man was a good sixty years old, and
the red door was his. It led to his own private suite next
to the Farabeuf Lab. Marcel was the most experienced
body processor at the university. It was best not to know
his production secrets.
Patrice Rieux greeted him warmly at the entry to
the lab. Marcel said hello, his blue eyes sparkling with
mischief, and then he reassured the dentist that the specimens
were ready.
Dr. Patrice Rieux walked quickly along the Rue des
Saints-Pères, which bordered Paris Descartes University.
He glanced down an alley to a door that led to a grimy
basement. Students found the ghoulish atmosphere in the
basement perfect for hazing. Broken cabinets, decrepit
work surfaces, dented water basins, burst file boxes, and
battered carts were scattered all over the floor. A confusion
of pipes covered the ceiling, like snakes ready to drop
and bite under the dull fluorescent light. Not a place for
the sensitive soul.
A little farther along, at 45 Rue des Saints-Pères, a
group of young men, cigarettes between their lips and
deep circles under their eyes, milled at the entrance,
stamping their feet against the cold. Dr. Rieux passed
a large pine tree and made his way into the university’s
main hall. He squeezed through a crowd of students, most
of whom would never make it beyond their first year.
They were overworked, tired, and pushed to their limits.
The dentist climbed to the sixth floor. A yellowing piece
of paper taped to a glass door pointed to the anatomy
department. It was past the body donation office. A grim
waiting area was reserved for those who were willing to
give their bodies to science after they died but had questions
while they were still alive. The area consisted of a
small wooden bench against a wall. Posts with unrolling
straps closed off a nine-square-foot zone. The space was
almost always empty, as if sitting there could bring bad
luck. Actually, the bench had an aura of death.
10 Frédérique Molay
The legendary red door at the end of the hallway
opened with an ominous creak. Marcel appeared in the
hallway in his usual outfit, which was like a second skin:
jeans, immaculate white coat, and plastic clogs. He was
short and heavyset, with thick hands, white hair, and
a sharp eye. The man was a good sixty years old, and
the red door was his. It led to his own private suite next
to the Farabeuf Lab. Marcel was the most experienced
body processor at the university. It was best not to know
his production secrets.
Patrice Rieux greeted him warmly at the entry to
the lab. Marcel said hello, his blue eyes sparkling with
mischief, and then he reassured the dentist that the specimens
were ready.
***
Give Away
It’s open internationally
5 print copies for 5 US residents
5 digital copies for residents of any country
5 print copies for 5 US residents
5 digital copies for residents of any country
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