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Purgatory Ridge

Purgatory Ridge

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Winner of the prestigious Loft-McKnight Fiction Award and the Anthony Award for Best First Novel, William Kent Krueger has established himself as a startlingly original voice in thriller fiction. With Purgatory Ridge he cements his standing as a suspense writer of the highest caliber.

Not far from the small town of Aurora (population 3,752) lies an ancient two-hundred-acre expanse of great white pines, sacred to the Anishinaabe and known to them as Minishoomisag (Our Grandfathers).

Wealthy industrialist Karl Lindstrom does not have a reputation as a sensitive environmentalist, and some members of the Anishinaabe tribe are concerned about the proximity of the trees to his lumber mill. So when an explosion at the mill results in the death of a night watchman, it's obvious whom suspicion will fall upon.

Cork O'Connor, in the throes of straightening out his life and repairing his marriage, is asked by his successor as sheriff to help with the investigation. His sense of community obliges him to accept, but Cork has distinctly mixed feelings about the case. For one thing, he is part Anishinaabe himself. For another, his lawyer wife, Jo, represents the tribe.

Meanwhile, in a secluded house that overlooks the lakeside home of the Lindstrom family, a reclusive shipwreck survivor and his sidekick also seem to be harboring some resentment of their own against the industrialist. And it soon becomes clear to Cork that harmony, both at home and in the town, will be on the back burner for some time.

William Kent Krueger's precise and atmospheric prose, combined with his keen eye for the telling details of small-town life and his vivid sense of the land and seascapes of northern Minnesota, will impress and delight both his old fans and those discovering him for the first time.
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  • Atria Books | 
  • 400 pages | 
  • ISBN 9781439120002 | 
  • March 2010
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Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

Corcoran O'Connor was pulled instantly from his sleep by the sound of a sniffle near his head. He opened his eyes and the face of his six-year-old son filled his vision.

"I'm thcared," Stevie said.

Cork propped himself on one arm. "Of what, buddy?"

"I heard thomething."

"Where? In your room?"

Stevie nodded.

"Let's go see."

Jo rolled over. "What is it?"

"Stevie heard something," Cork told his wife. "I'll take care of it. Go back to sleep."

"What time is it?"

Cork glanced at the radio alarm on the stand beside the bed. "Five o'clock."

"I can take him,"... see more

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