One gay-bashing could be a prank, and two hardly constitute a pattern worth making a public announcement that may only encourage more of the same. But when a third victim is savagely killed, Episcopal priest Clare Fergusson ignores the wishes of Millers Kill (NY) police chief Russ Van Alstyne and leaks the connection to the press. Russ is furious, not just because he doesn’t want to lose control of his case to a woman he’s obviously drawn to (never mind his wife Linda, who remains oblivious at home), but because the late Bill Ingraham’s sexual orientation was perhaps his least controversial feature. His company, BWI Development, had signed a deal with local landowner Peggy Landry to bring a glitzy resort to this quiet corner of the Adirondacks. Environmentalists are up in arms at BWI’s likely impact on the region and the rumor that the Landry parcel is already contaminated with PCB. The case is a minefield for the chief, but it’s nothing compared to his deepening love/hate relation to Clare, who’s capable of segueing from a private sermon on chastity to getting drunk, flirting, spying without authorization on a suspect in the gay-bashing, and leaping out a window to be rescued by Russ, who’s constantly losing his temper, swearing, and muttering, “Scuse my French.”
Even more action, more plot twists, and more unconsummated romance than in Clare and Russ’s notable debut (In the Bleak Midwinter, 2002). As Russ demands of the former Army pilot who’s about to save his life: “What kind of priest are you anyway?”
