This is one of the most boring books I have ever read. Mountains of descriptive verbiage to fill the volume needed for a book, with a lane and thin plot.

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I’ve read the books greedily. Pavone is so good at getting inside his characters heads when they are under duress, so are you. Love the Paris setting, and the story takes the best advantage of the surroundings. The story, though a follow-on, it can stand on it’s own with the author’s ability to weave past and present.

Very hard to read any more of his books. He needs to settle on one and complete it instead of constantly referring to other books. Last one for me