I started Tami Hoag’s Deeper Than The Dead in the wee hours of the morning while standing alone without a phone in a foreign train station while watching the drunks go by and waiting for Andrew to meet me. Not the best time to start a mystery featuring brutal murders of women. Fortunately the only danger was of the fictional variety.
Deeper Than The Dead begins with a few children stumbling upon the body of a partially buried woman who has been viciously killed and had her eyes and mouth superglued shut. The murder is linked to two previous deaths and another woman is now missing. FBI agent Vince Leone comes to town to aid the investigation and mingle with locals.
At first, I was skeptical of Deeper Than The Dead. As a previously avid reader of mysteries, I thought “been there, done that.” At only 25% of the way into the book, I was convinced I knew who the killer was and could see how the whole thing would play out. It turns out I was right on the killer but I was not right about how the whole thing played out. In fact, for a while in the middle there, Hoag had me second guessing my pick. She even managed to remind me why I liked (like?) mysteries so much. They keep me on the edge of my seat!
Deeper Than The Dead kept me hooked through a five hour train ride. Sure, there were gruesome parts I wish I could have skipped over. This book is not necessarily for the weak. But it was a nice change of pace (as much as grisly murders can be considered “nice”) from other books on my mom’s list and a sign that I shouldn’t ignore mysteries. Middle school me who was obsessed with Mary Higgins Clark would be so proud.