Last month, I wrapped up the Longmire series (with the exception of short story collections). I read nothing else in November. All Longmire. All the time.
I was not hooked at book one. Nor was I hooked at book two.
When I hit book three, I started to warm up to the characters and the town.
Then, books four, five, and six happened. I thought these books were it. The series could get no better!
Then, there was book seven. Hell Is Empty.
Here is how Goodreads summarizes this book:
“Raynaud Shade, an adopted Crow Indian rumored to be one of the country’s most dangerous sociopaths, has just confessed to murdering a boy ten years ago and burying him deep within the Bighorn Mountains. Walt is asked to transport Shade through a blizzard to the site, but what begins as a typical criminal transport turns personal when the veteran lawman learns that he knows the dead boy’s family. Guided only by Indian mysticism and a battered paperback of Dante’s Inferno, Walt braves the icy hell of the Cloud Peak Wilderness Area, cheating death to ensure that justice–both civil and spiritual–is served.”
Favorite. Book. In. The. Series. Hands down!