The Broken Window by Jeffery Deaver – Audiobook – replace.me

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Please try again later. Verified Purchase. This was one of the best novels by Jeffery Deaver, in the Lincoln Rhyme series. The storyline, the twists and turns, it captivated me from start to finish. Roll on book nine! Please try again later. Add to wishlist failed.

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Download titles to your library and listen offline. Narrated by: George Guidall. No valid payment method on file. Add payment method. Switch payment method. We are sorry. We are not allowed to sell this product with the selected payment method. Pay using card ending in. Copy Link. Publisher’s Summary Lincoln Rhyme’s cousin has been arrested for murder. The evidence clearly shows he did it, but Rhyme agrees to check things out.

It turns out that the cousin, along with other people, has been wrongly convicted because the true killer knows every single detail about the lives of the victims he kills and the men he sets up to take the fall for those crimes. Reviews – Please select the tabs below to change the source of reviews. Amazon Reviews. No Reviews are Available.

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Write a customer review. Top reviews Most recent Top reviews. Top reviews from Australia. There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later. Verified Purchase. I love all his books can not put them down. The Bodies Left Behind. The Empty Chair. The Burning Wire. The Cold Moon. The Midnight Lock. A Perfect Plan. The Final Twist. The Second Hostage. The Vanished Man. Nothing Good Happens After Midnig Book 1.

The Bone Collector by Jeffery Deaver. Lincoln Rhyme was once a brilliant criminologist, … More. Want to Read. Shelving menu. Shelve The Bone Collector. Want to Read Currently Reading Read. Rate it:. Book 2. The Coffin Dancer by Jeffery Deaver. Shelve The Coffin Dancer. Book 3. The Empty Chair by Jeffery Deaver. From the bestselling author of The Bone Collector … More.

Lincoln Rhyme Series by Jeffery Deaver

The Twelfth Card. Exit Wounds. Roadside Crosses. Odd Partners. Blue Nowhere. Devil’s Teardrop. A Century of Great Suspense Stori Bloody River Blues. More Twisted. Shallow Graves. Transgressions: Death’s Betrayal. Essential Cookies. I remember Boston, all the stories you told. We were up half the night, laughing.

Things I never knew about him. Rhyme had dozens of indelible memories of his uncle, but one particular image stood out. The tall, balding, ruddy-faced man is rearing back, braying a laugh, embarrassing every one of the dozen or so family members at the Christmas Eve dinner table—embarrassing all, that is, except Henry Rhyme himself, his patient wife and young Lincoln, who is laughing right along.

Rhyme liked his uncle very much and would often go to visit Art and the family, who lived about thirty miles away, on the shores of Lake Michigan in Evanston, Illinois. Now, though, Rhyme was in no mood for nostalgia and was relieved when he heard the door open and the sound of seven firm footsteps, from threshold to carpet, the stride telling Rhyme who it was. A moment later a tall, slim redhead wearing jeans and a black T-shirt under a burgundy blouse entered the lab.

The shirt was loose and the stern angle of a black Glock pistol was visible high on her hip. He introduced them. Then: Do you have children? And, it turned out, the family had grown. In addition to Arthur Junior, who was in high school, there were two others. A nine-year-old, Henry. And a daughter, Meadow. Judy gave an embarrassed laugh. Judy broke the brief silence. You know how Art is. Just so kind, always thinking of everybody else.

But the more I got to thinking about it, the more sense it made. Tell me what you thought. Rhyme could imagine how that would go over at the Big Building. As a forensic consultant for the NYPD, his job was getting to the truth, wherever that journey led, but the brass definitely preferred him to help convict, not exonerate, defendants.

Art keeps family scrapbooks. He has clippings about your cases from the newspapers. Finally Judy delivered some unvarnished emotion: a smile, as she looked into his eyes. Art said he never believed your modesty for a minute. Rhyme snorted a laugh that he thought would pass for sincere. Then he grew serious. But tell me what happened. It was a week ago Thursday, the twelfth.

Art always takes off early every Thursday. He goes for a long run in a state park on the way home. He loves to run. Rhyme recalled dozens of times when the two boys, born within months of each other, would race along sidewalks or through the green-yellow fields near their Midwestern homes, grasshoppers fleeing, gnats sticking to their sweaty skin when they stopped for breath.

He left work about three-thirty and went for his run, then came home about seven, seven-thirty. He took a shower. We had dinner. But the next day the police came to the house, two from New York and a New Jersey trooper. They asked him questions and looked through the car. Her voice conveyed traces of the shock she would have felt on that difficult morning. They searched the house and took away some things. And then they came back and arrested him. For murder. She had trouble saying the word.

They claimed he killed a woman and stole a rare painting from her. She scoffed bitterly. Stole a painting? What on earth for? And murder? Why, Arthur never hurt a single soul in his life. Well, yes, they did. And it seemed to match the victim. Judy played with thick black and white plastic bracelets on her left wrist. The thing is, yes, he used to own one by the same artist. He liked it. But he had to sell it when he lost his job.

Her voice cracked. At an art gallery he goes to sometimes. But he said he never talked to her that he can remember. Her eyes now took in the whiteboard containing the schematic of the plan to capture Logan in England. Race you to that tree. No, you wimp. Touch the trunk! On three. Tell us. For the kids too. The blush had returned and she was gripping her knees.

She was a kinesics, or body language, expert. He now could see easily that Judy Rhyme was a fountain of stress. Not like clues. Rhyme noted the softened verb. Not as adamant a denial as with the murder and theft. You were more likely to rob a stranger than someone you were sleeping with. Still, as a wife and mother, Judy was crying out for one particular answer.

Then she glanced up, less cautious now about looking at Rhyme, the contraption he sat in and the other devices that defined his life. I know it in my soul. Is there anything you can do? Rhyme and Sachs shared a look. But, just something. She gave them the name and phone number. A high-profile, and -priced, criminal defense attorney Rhyme knew. I have it.

I assume he offered your husband a plea bargain? He did, and our lawyer wanted to take it. But Art refused. She rose. Surprising him, Judy Rhyme strode directly to the wheelchair and bent down, brushing her cheek against his. Rhyme smelled nervous sweat and two distinct scents, perhaps deodorant and hair spray.

No perfume. Thank you, Lincoln. She walked to the door and paused. Rhyme shrugged, one of the few gestures he could manage. Maybe a cousin too. But still. Sachs lifted the receiver. Eventually she tracked down the defense lawyer, got his answering service and left a message. Rhyme wondered which hole of which golf course he was on at that moment. I could probably go down to twelve solid. The A. I know him, she said, dialing him at home too. She got his voice mail but when she tried his cell he answered immediately.

The hiss of wind and the sound of slapping water explained what the detective was up to on this clear-sky, warm day. Oh, sure. A hesitation. I mean, unusual. But I never put it together. And he never said anything about you. Not in any of the interviews. Your cousin. Just talked to him. I gotta say the collar was righteous. In the stiff voice that cops fall into when recounting details of a crime—stripped of emotion: Your cousin left work early.

He went to the apartment of a woman named Alice Sanderson, down in the Village. Somebody named Prescott. It left the scene fast. Open navigation menu. Close suggestions Search Search. User Settings. Skip carousel. Carousel Previous. Carousel Next. What is Scribd? Explore Ebooks. Bestsellers Editors’ Picks All Ebooks. Explore Audiobooks. Bestsellers Editors’ Picks All audiobooks. Explore Magazines. Editors’ Picks All magazines.

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Ebook pages 9 hours. Switch to audiobook. Start your free days. Read preview. Language English. Release date Jun 10, ISBN Read more. Read more from Jeffery Deaver. Rhymes With Prey: Lincoln Rhyme vs. Lucas Davenport. Lucas Davenport by Jeffery Deaver. Lucas Davenport for later. The Sleeping Doll: A Novel. No Rest for the Dead. Save No Rest for the Dead for later. Ebook FaceOff by Lee Child. Save FaceOff for later.

Ebook Edge by Jeffery Deaver. Save Edge for later. The Blue Nowhere: A Novel. Daggers Drawn. Ebook Daggers Drawn by Ian Rankin. Save Daggers Drawn for later.

Lincoln Rhyme: A Mysterious Profile. Cold-Blooded: Killer Nashville Noir. More Twisted: Collected Stories, Vol. II by Jeffery Deaver. II for later. The Empty Chair. Save The Empty Chair for later. The Coffin Dancer: A Novel. Related ebooks. Speaking in Tongues: A Novel. Save Speaking in Tongues: A Novel for later. Bloody River Blues. Save Bloody River Blues for later. Shallow Graves. Ebook Shallow Graves by Jeffery Deaver. The Bone Collector by Jeffery Deaver.

Lincoln Rhyme was once a brilliant criminologist, … More. Want to Read. Shelving menu. Shelve The Bone Collector.

Want to Read Currently Reading Read. Rate it:. Book 2. The Coffin Dancer by Jeffery Deaver. Shelve The Coffin Dancer. Book 3. The Empty Chair by Jeffery Deaver.

From the bestselling author of The Bone Collector … More. Shelve The Empty Chair. Book 4. The Stone Monkey by Jeffery Deaver. Shelve The Stone Monkey. Book 5. This was one of the best novels by Jeffery Deaver, in the Lincoln Rhyme series. The storyline, the twists and turns, it captivated me from start to finish. Roll on book nine! One person found this helpful. The latest installment in the Lincoln Rhyme series, ‘The Broken Window’ is a case a little closer to home in that it involves a close relation being the main if not only suspect in a murder.

Rhyme quickly deduces that this is the work of a master criminal who’s MO includes making sure he has a fall guy set up. The tendency to this means there is less high octane, heart pounding tension of the previous books in the series.

Definitely worth reading for hardcore fans or first timers alike though I suggest the later start with the older books first for some background. At the very least I suggest reading re-reading if you have already the previous book in the series as it is heavily referenced in this story. I found myself struggling to remember the details of the last plot which made certain aspects of the book less interesting. This Deaver book is brilliant. Just like his previous books, Deaver has you on the edge of you seat.

Through-out the book you are left guessing as to who the ‘baddie’ is. The research gone into this book has also paid off – the new technological dangers are both realistic and well explained. I just did not know. When all is revealed at the end, you are truly in for a suprise – a very cleverly constructed story twist! In addition to this great story line, you are treated to an account of Rhyme’s younger life.

These accounts truly make Rhyme more believeable and realistic. Deaver does it again in an exciting intricate plot involving the legendary Lincoln Rhyme, and his feisty assistant, Amelia Sachs. This is the 8th book in the series; and one of the best. A notorious killer has access to peoples information via computers and data miners – using this information, he manipulates and kills his prey.