THE PAIN OF OTHERS by Blake Crouch

they ever imagined.
     
    The journey towards the end of SNOWBOUND is as chilling as the setting is cold. Crouch's gift for suspense has never been this personal before. This is Blake Crouch, scholar of words, parser of tales. With great humbleness and the back-up of a Booklist Starred Review, I cannot recommend this book highly enough. SNOWBOUND is simply superb.
CRIMESPREE MAGAZINE
     
    You have never read anything like SNOWBOUND, a sweet nightmare of a book that is unforgettable on several different levels. To put it another way, it's the Highway 61 Revisited of thriller novels. Some of you know what a compliment that is. If you don't, let me end by telling you this: I was screaming at one point while reading, and a few pages later I had tears in my eyes. Readers pour through shelves of books looking for writing like that. Look no further. I can't give you a greater recommendation than that.
BOOKREPORTER
     
    Excerpt from Snowbound…
     
    1
    In the evening of the last good day either of them would know for years to come, the girl pushed open the sliding glass door and stepped through onto the back porch.
    “Daddy?”
    Will Innis set the legal pad aside and made room for Devlin to climb into his lap. His daughter was small for eleven, felt like the shell of a child in his arms.
    “What are you doing out here?” she asked and in her scratchy voice he could hear the remnants of her last respiratory infection like gravel in her lungs.
    “Working up a closing for my trial in the morning.”
    “Is your client the bad guy again?”
    Will smiled. “You and your mother. I’m not really supposed to think of it that way, sweetheart.”
    “What’d he do?” His little girl’s face had turned ruddy in the sunset and the fading light brought out threads of platinum in her otherwise midnight hair.
    “He allegedly—”
    “What’s that mean?”
    “Allegedly?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Means it’s not been proven. He’s suspected of selling drugs.”
    “Like what I take?”
    “No, your drugs are good. They help you. He was selling, allegedly selling, bad drugs to people.”
    “Why are they bad?”
    “Because they make you lose control.”
    “Why do people take them?”
    “They like how it makes them feel.”
    “How does it make them feel?”
    He kissed her forehead and looked at his watch. “It’s after eight, Devi. Let’s go bang on those lungs.”
    She sighed but she didn’t argue. She never tried to get out of it.
    He stood up cradling his daughter and walked over to the redwood railing.
    They stared into the wilderness that bordered Oasis Hills, their subdivision. The houses on No-Water Lane had the Sonoran Desert for a backyard.
    “Look,” he said. “See them?” A half mile away, specks filed out of an arroyo and trotted across the desert toward a shadeless forest of giant saguaro cacti that looked vaguely sinister profiled against the horizon.
    “What are they?” she asked.
    “Coyotes. What do you bet they start yapping when the sun goes down?”
     
    After supper, he read to Devlin from A Wrinkle in Time. They’d been working their way through the penultimate chapter, “Aunt Beast,” but Devlin was exhausted and drifted off before Will had finished the second page.
    He closed the book and set it on the carpet and turned out the light. Cool desert air flowed in through an open window. A sprinkler whispered in the next door neighbor’s yard. Devlin yawned, made a cooing sound that reminded him of rocking her to sleep as a newborn. Her eyes fluttered and she said very softly, “Mom?”
    “She’s working late at the clinic, sweetheart.”
    “When’s she coming back?”
    “Few hours.”
    “Tell her to come in and kiss me?”
    “I will.”
    He was nowhere near ready for court in the morning but he stayed, running his fingers through Devlin’s hair until she’d fallen back to sleep. Finally, he slid carefully off the bed and walked out onto the deck to gather up his books and legal pads. He had a