Thrillers & Suspense
![John Sandford - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B00LCVR32Y.jpg)
The Investigator
Letty Davenport, the brilliant and tenacious adopted daughter of Lucas Davenport, takes the investigative reins in the newest thriller from #1 bestselling author John Sandford.
"Sandford fans rejoice! Davenport next generation has arrived and Letty is exactly the kind of cool-eyed, smart-mouthed, lethally dangerous heroine we've been waiting for."--Lisa Gardner, author of One Step Too Far
By age twenty-four, Letty Davenport has seen more action and uncovered more secrets than many law enforcement professionals. Now a recent Stanford grad with a master's in economics, she's restless and bored in a desk job for U.S. Senator Colles. Letty's ready to quit, but her skills have impressed Colles, and he offers her a carrot: feet-on-the-ground investigative work, in conjunction with the Department of Homeland Security.
Several oil companies in Texas have reported thefts of crude, Colles tells her. He isn't so much concerned with the oil as he is with the money: who is selling the oil, and what are they doing with the profits? Rumor has it that a fairly ugly militia group-led by a woman known only as Lorelai-might be involved. Colles wants to know if the money is going to them, and if so, what they're planning.
Letty is partnered with a DHS investigator, John Kaiser, and they head to Texas. When the case quicky turns deadly, they know they're on the track of something bigger. Lorelai and her group have set in motion an explosive plan . . . and the clock is ticking down.
"Sandford fans rejoice! Davenport next generation has arrived and Letty is exactly the kind of cool-eyed, smart-mouthed, lethally dangerous heroine we've been waiting for."--Lisa Gardner, author of One Step Too Far
By age twenty-four, Letty Davenport has seen more action and uncovered more secrets than many law enforcement professionals. Now a recent Stanford grad with a master's in economics, she's restless and bored in a desk job for U.S. Senator Colles. Letty's ready to quit, but her skills have impressed Colles, and he offers her a carrot: feet-on-the-ground investigative work, in conjunction with the Department of Homeland Security.
Several oil companies in Texas have reported thefts of crude, Colles tells her. He isn't so much concerned with the oil as he is with the money: who is selling the oil, and what are they doing with the profits? Rumor has it that a fairly ugly militia group-led by a woman known only as Lorelai-might be involved. Colles wants to know if the money is going to them, and if so, what they're planning.
Letty is partnered with a DHS investigator, John Kaiser, and they head to Texas. When the case quicky turns deadly, they know they're on the track of something bigger. Lorelai and her group have set in motion an explosive plan . . . and the clock is ticking down.
Editorial Reviews
"The Investigator is a procedural action thriller in which the technical sleuthing only heightens the tension. Letty is such a capable character, and Mr. Sandford such a fine tactician, it would seem incomprehensible and even cruel to deny readers a swift follow-up."--Wall Street Journal
"John Sandford created a winning formula with his furiously paced Prey novels, which star Lucas Davenport, a Minnesota detective turned U.S. marshal with a penchant for sharp dressing, high romancing and expert marksmanship. In The Investigator he moves the chess pieces to a different board."--New York Times
"Sandford's first Letty Davenport novel is a violent, topical, fast-paced story that's sure to please action fans."--Library Journal (starred review)
"Readers are treated to Sandford's well-crafted prose, conversational but never chatty and charged with boisterous humor. A top-line thriller from one of thegenre's heavy hitters."--Booklist
"A domestic-terrorist plot gives the adopted daughter of storied U.S. Marshal Lucas Davenport her moment to shine. Generations may succeed generations, but Sandford's patented investigation/action formula hasn't aged a whit. Bring it on."--Kirkus Reviews
"Letty Davenport takes center stage in this welcome series spin-off. One of Sandford's best books in years."--Publishers Weekly
"If John Sandford's The Investigator isn't the most-anticipated spring book, it's darn close…Sandford writes fully realized characters and no doubt he will deepen our understanding of Letty as the series matures."--Pioneer Press
"John Sandford created a winning formula with his furiously paced Prey novels, which star Lucas Davenport, a Minnesota detective turned U.S. marshal with a penchant for sharp dressing, high romancing and expert marksmanship. In The Investigator he moves the chess pieces to a different board."--New York Times
"Sandford's first Letty Davenport novel is a violent, topical, fast-paced story that's sure to please action fans."--Library Journal (starred review)
"Readers are treated to Sandford's well-crafted prose, conversational but never chatty and charged with boisterous humor. A top-line thriller from one of thegenre's heavy hitters."--Booklist
"A domestic-terrorist plot gives the adopted daughter of storied U.S. Marshal Lucas Davenport her moment to shine. Generations may succeed generations, but Sandford's patented investigation/action formula hasn't aged a whit. Bring it on."--Kirkus Reviews
"Letty Davenport takes center stage in this welcome series spin-off. One of Sandford's best books in years."--Publishers Weekly
"If John Sandford's The Investigator isn't the most-anticipated spring book, it's darn close…Sandford writes fully realized characters and no doubt he will deepen our understanding of Letty as the series matures."--Pioneer Press
Readers Top Reviews
Amy S. BannermanKind
This book is about a young woman, Letty, and her counterpart, Kaiser, as they do what they are trained to do, and that is, stop a domestic disaster on the Texas / Mexico border. Lettie is new to this kind of project, but she's sharp and fearless, and not afraid to use her gun. She takes care of business in an impressive manner. The story is quite complicated, a little too complex, I think, as the two unfold the anticipated event, and then encounter it, head on. There are numerous characters both on the "good side" and the "bad side", and it was challenging to remember exactly who was who in some parts of the book. I wonder if it could have been edited down quite a bit. I did get somewhat bogged down in the middle of the book, before the real action began to happen. I should say "up front" that I have not read any other John Sandford stories, and I was not familiar with Letty or her dad before reading this book. It might have been nice to have more background on Letty's life before jumping in to The Investigator. Also, I was not really prepared for all the gun "talk", and the use of guns, both in the telling of Lettie's background, and the culminating event of the story. Thank you to NetGalley for allowing me to read and review The Investigator.
T. Lee
John Sandford’s Prey series and Virgil Flowers series are my favorite books of all time. I have read them all several times each, and some are better than others. If you’ve read the Prey series, you are familiar with Letty, the adopted daughter of Lucas Davenport (Minneapolis PD, Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension, US Marshal). Letty is now a grown woman, sophisticated, wealthy, worldly, and still semi-feral from being raised essentially by herself until a series of events that brought her into Lucas’s orbit. Fresh out of Stanford with a Master’s in economics, she is a staffer for a US senator, who discovers she’s a tough, smart, thrill seeking young lady. She’s bored and quitting her job, but the senator offers her something more interesting - being a liaison with the Department of Homeland Security while they look into a case involving missing oil and homegrown militias. She gets paired up with John Kaiser, a former US Army special operator, and they are a perfect match. Letty does not disappoint - Mr. Sandford can build a character like no other author, and Letty is well on her way to being his masterpiece! Kaiser is no less the best supporting actor in this book. Looking forward to more adventures with Letty!
kathleen g
Review What a terrific start to a new series (well, I hope a new series). Letty Davenport, the 24 year old adopted daughter of Lucas Davenport, is bored working for Senator Colles. A Stanford grad, she's got as much e-telligence as intelligence and she learned a lot (a lot) from Lucas. So when Colles needs someone to shadow the Department of Homeland Security on an investigation of oil theft in Texas, he picks her. She's paired up with John Kaiser, DHS investigator and special forces vet with multiple tours, who, while initially skeptical of Letty, becomes her friend and mentor. Who is stealing the oil and why? You'll know that early on. Jane Jael Hawkes is an angry and resourceful woman who is marshaling a group of similarly angry people to do.....This becomes a cat and mouse game across Texas, as Jael makes her plans and Letty and Kaiser try to find out what they are. I've read all of Sandford's novels but don't worry, Sandford gives you Letty's back story. She's amazing but so is Kaiser. Jael, on the other hand, is frightening, especially because what she's done is entirely possible. Sandford is a master at creating tension, so much so that it wasn't clear to me what would actually happen (no spoilers). I liked the relationship between Kaiser and Letty (great partners) and the other characters such as Greet. Thanks to edelweiss for the ARC. Terrific and regrettably plausible read - highly recommend.
jeffrey goss
Excellent read. Was concerned that this would be a rip-off of the Prey series. Stands on it's own. Hope we see a Lucas and Letty team up in the future.
BookLover0596
I tend to lean towards the romance or women's fiction genres but when I want to take a break from them - I tend to grab a book by John Sandford. My mom got me hooked on his Lucas Davenport and Virgil Flowers books years ago! As soon as I finished, I texted my mom and told her she had to make sure to buy this book on publication date. When I noticed there was a book coming that would center around Lucas' daughter, Letty, I knew I had to read it. I was blown away by this book and felt all the emotions with it. Mr. Sandford did a fantastic job of taking the state of things today and capturing it so realistically in this book. The partnership between Letty and Kaiser was so in sync, you find yourself anticipating their next moves. I sincerely hope that there are more Letty Davenport novels in the works.
Short Excerpt Teaser
One
Backside of an old brick-and-stucco building on the edge of downtown Tallahassee, Florida, ten o'clock on a muggy evening in early September, a couple weeks before the autumn equinox. The cleaning crew had left, rattling their equipment carts and trash bins across the blacktop to their vans. A few people remained in the building; two cars sat in the parking lot, and there were lighted offices on the second and third floors.
A young woman with crystalline blue eyes and a short brown ponytail sat behind a ragged boxwood hedge, her back against the building's concrete foundation, a rucksack between her knees. Dressed in black jeans, a black long-sleeved blouse, with a reversible red-black jacket, black side out, she was no more than an undifferentiated dark lump behind the hedge. She could turn the jacket to the red side, if needed, so she wouldn't appear so obviously camouflaged for the night. A noisome mosquito buzzed her face, looking for an opening; to her left, a vent pooped vaguely fecal odors out of the building.
Piece by piece, one distraction at a time, the young woman cleared her mind; no more odors, no more bugs. She'd hunted for food as a child and she'd learned that a predator created a vibration that other animals could sense. She'd been in every sense a predator, but if she'd put her back against a tree and cleared her mind, the vibration would fade, she'd become part of the landscape, and the prey animals would go back to whatever they were doing before she arrived. She'd had rabbits hop within six feet of her, unalarmed before they died.
Now, with an empty mind, she'd gone from being a lump to invisible.
The woman was wearing one thin leather glove, and the fingers of that hand were wrapped in hundred-pound test monofilament fishing line. The other end of the transparent line was tied to the loop handle of the building's back door. She waited patiently, unmoving, in the dappled moonlight that filtered through the Chickasaw plum trees on the edge of the parking lot.
At ten minutes after ten, the lights went out in the third-floor office and the young woman brought her mind back to the world, shouldered her pack, and took a switchblade from her hip pocket. Two minutes after that, a middle-aged woman carrying a heavy lawyer's briefcase pushed through the back door, looked both ways, then scurried out to a compact BMW. The building's door, on an automatic door-closer hinge, swung shut behind her. As it was about to lock, the young woman put pressure on the fishing line and held it. The door appeared to be closed, but hadn't latched.
When the departing BMW turned the corner, the young woman eased out from behind the hedge, listening, watching, keeping a steady pressure on the fishing line. She walked to the door, pulled it open, blocked it for a second with a foot, and used the blade to cut the fishing line off the door handle.
She slipped inside, balling the fishing line in her gloved hand, pressed the back of the knife blade against her leg to close it, dropped it into her pocket. Adrenaline beginning to kick in, heart rate picking up.
The target office had been vacant since six o'clock. The young woman turned left, to the fire stairs, and ran rapidly upward on silent, soft-cushioned athletic soles. At the fifth and top floor, she listened for a moment behind the fire door, then opened the door and checked the hallway. The only light came from street-side windows. She hurried down the hall to 504, removed her jacket, and took the battery-powered lock rake from her pack.
She couldn't use the rake on the outer door, because that door had a good security lock, and she would have been standing beneath a light where she couldn't be sure she was unobserved.
This lock was not very good-there was nothing obviously valuable inside except some well-used office equipment. She wrapped the rake in her jacket and pulled the trigger. The pick made a chattering noise, muffled by the jacket. The young woman kept pressure on the rake, felt the lock begin to give, and then turn. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, closed the door, and sat on the floor, listening.
She heard nothing but the creaks and cracks of an aging building, and the low hum of the air-conditioning. Satisfied that she was alone and hadn't raised an alarm, she opened the pack, took out a headlamp, and pulled the elastic bands over her head, centering the light on her forehead. She'd already set it on the lowest power, but she didn't need it yet. She stood and looked around, threw the fishing line in an empty wastebasket.
There was enough light from the office equipment's power LEDs that she could make out a dozen metal desks with standard off...
Backside of an old brick-and-stucco building on the edge of downtown Tallahassee, Florida, ten o'clock on a muggy evening in early September, a couple weeks before the autumn equinox. The cleaning crew had left, rattling their equipment carts and trash bins across the blacktop to their vans. A few people remained in the building; two cars sat in the parking lot, and there were lighted offices on the second and third floors.
A young woman with crystalline blue eyes and a short brown ponytail sat behind a ragged boxwood hedge, her back against the building's concrete foundation, a rucksack between her knees. Dressed in black jeans, a black long-sleeved blouse, with a reversible red-black jacket, black side out, she was no more than an undifferentiated dark lump behind the hedge. She could turn the jacket to the red side, if needed, so she wouldn't appear so obviously camouflaged for the night. A noisome mosquito buzzed her face, looking for an opening; to her left, a vent pooped vaguely fecal odors out of the building.
Piece by piece, one distraction at a time, the young woman cleared her mind; no more odors, no more bugs. She'd hunted for food as a child and she'd learned that a predator created a vibration that other animals could sense. She'd been in every sense a predator, but if she'd put her back against a tree and cleared her mind, the vibration would fade, she'd become part of the landscape, and the prey animals would go back to whatever they were doing before she arrived. She'd had rabbits hop within six feet of her, unalarmed before they died.
Now, with an empty mind, she'd gone from being a lump to invisible.
The woman was wearing one thin leather glove, and the fingers of that hand were wrapped in hundred-pound test monofilament fishing line. The other end of the transparent line was tied to the loop handle of the building's back door. She waited patiently, unmoving, in the dappled moonlight that filtered through the Chickasaw plum trees on the edge of the parking lot.
At ten minutes after ten, the lights went out in the third-floor office and the young woman brought her mind back to the world, shouldered her pack, and took a switchblade from her hip pocket. Two minutes after that, a middle-aged woman carrying a heavy lawyer's briefcase pushed through the back door, looked both ways, then scurried out to a compact BMW. The building's door, on an automatic door-closer hinge, swung shut behind her. As it was about to lock, the young woman put pressure on the fishing line and held it. The door appeared to be closed, but hadn't latched.
When the departing BMW turned the corner, the young woman eased out from behind the hedge, listening, watching, keeping a steady pressure on the fishing line. She walked to the door, pulled it open, blocked it for a second with a foot, and used the blade to cut the fishing line off the door handle.
She slipped inside, balling the fishing line in her gloved hand, pressed the back of the knife blade against her leg to close it, dropped it into her pocket. Adrenaline beginning to kick in, heart rate picking up.
The target office had been vacant since six o'clock. The young woman turned left, to the fire stairs, and ran rapidly upward on silent, soft-cushioned athletic soles. At the fifth and top floor, she listened for a moment behind the fire door, then opened the door and checked the hallway. The only light came from street-side windows. She hurried down the hall to 504, removed her jacket, and took the battery-powered lock rake from her pack.
She couldn't use the rake on the outer door, because that door had a good security lock, and she would have been standing beneath a light where she couldn't be sure she was unobserved.
This lock was not very good-there was nothing obviously valuable inside except some well-used office equipment. She wrapped the rake in her jacket and pulled the trigger. The pick made a chattering noise, muffled by the jacket. The young woman kept pressure on the rake, felt the lock begin to give, and then turn. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, closed the door, and sat on the floor, listening.
She heard nothing but the creaks and cracks of an aging building, and the low hum of the air-conditioning. Satisfied that she was alone and hadn't raised an alarm, she opened the pack, took out a headlamp, and pulled the elastic bands over her head, centering the light on her forehead. She'd already set it on the lowest power, but she didn't need it yet. She stood and looked around, threw the fishing line in an empty wastebasket.
There was enough light from the office equipment's power LEDs that she could make out a dozen metal desks with standard off...
