Roarke slams his sledgehammer into a rickety wall in his new acquisition, and finds two bodies, skeletons, really, wrapped in plastic. He, naturally, calls his wife, and after the cops are done with the old building, there are ten more plastic-wrapped bundles of remains.
They were all girls, between twelve and fifteen years of age, most of them runaways or from broken homes, and they all died fifteen years ago. The old building is connected to a shelter for teenagers, all Eve has to do, is find the connection to the bodies.
There's a formula to these books. Yet mostly the plot is so engrossing with constantly increasing tempo, and the characters and their connections to interesting, I don't pay attention to the formula or template and can easily ignore it.
This one failed to deliver the goods for me to ignore how terribly formulaic it was. It was slow, even plodding in places, predictable (especially after the half mark), and the fact they were dealing with mere remains, and without a "hot" case, that sense of danger and urgency that often characterizes the plots, was missing.
In the end it was all procedure, drone work, and guessing until proof magically poofed onto the scene.
The cast of characters was great, as always, but not enough to elevate the story.