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The Thirst: A Harry Hole Novel (Harry Hole Series), by Jo Nesbo
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#1 International Best Seller
In this electrifying new thriller from the author of Police and The Snowman, Inspector Harry Hole hunts down a serial murderer who targets his victims . . . on Tinder.
The murder victim, a self-declared Tinder addict. The one solid clue—fragments of rust and paint in her wounds—leaves the investigating team baffled.
Two days later, there’s a second murder: a woman of the same age, a Tinder user, an eerily similar scene.
The chief of police knows there’s only one man for this case. But Harry Hole is no longer with the force. He promised the woman he loves, and he promised himself, that he’d never go back: not after his last case, which put the people closest to him in grave danger.
But there’s something about these murders that catches his attention, something in the details that the investigators have missed. For Harry, it’s like hearing “the voice of a man he was trying not to remember.” Now, despite his promises, despite everything he risks, Harry throws himself back into the hunt for a figure who haunts him, the monster who got away.
STARRED REVIEW
"Exceptional . . . Nesbo depicts a heartbreakingly conflicted Harry, who both wants to forget the horrors he’s trying to prevent and knows he has to remember them in all their grim detail."
--Publishers Weekly
- Sales Rank: #152 in eBooks
- Published on: 2017-05-09
- Released on: 2017-05-09
- Format: Kindle eBook
Review
Praise for The Thirst:
"[Nesbø is] the reigning king of Scandinavian crime fiction . . . [The Thirst is] a big-boned, Technicolor epic . . . starting adagio and ending accelerando, but with the kind of close psychological character readings that distinguished his early work."
—Barry Forshaw, The Guardian (London)
"Fast moving . . . stunning."
—Joan Smith, The Times (London)
“Exceptional . . . Nesbø depicts a heartbreakingly conflicted Harry, who both wants to forget the horrors he’s trying to prevent and knows he has to remember them in all their grim detail.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
"A gripping, way-scary crime novel. . . . This one will keep readers awake deep into the night."
—Bill Ott, Booklist (starred review)
“Explosive . . . twists within twists within twists . . . yet more evidence of why Scandinavian crime writers continue to dominate international bestseller lists.”
—Kirkus Reviews
Praise for the work of Jo Nesbø:
“Nesbø writes like an angel. As in Lucifer.”
—The Philadelphia Inquirer
“Nesbø explores the darkest criminal minds with grim delight and puts his killers where you least expect to find them. . . . His novels are maddeningly addictive.”
—Vanity Fair
“Jo Nesbø is my new favorite thriller writer and Harry Hole is my new hero.”
—Michael Connelly
“Nesbø . . . is a giant of the Scandinavian mystery.”
—The Boston Globe
“Crime fiction’s most tortured and compelling hero. Alas, no armor exists strong enough to keep Harry from his demons, or the rest of us from Harry.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“Nesbø’s books have a serious, socially significant heft, as well as a confident (even cocky) narrative stride that is unmatched. These aren’t mere investigatory trifles to be enjoyed and forgotten; their unnerving horrors linger.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
“In the crowded field of Scandinavian crime fiction, Nesbø’s books stand out. . . . Nesbø likes to rip plots up . . . to play with the conventions of his genre.”
—The New Yorker
“Harry Hole is fast becoming one of the planet’s favorite detectives. And his demons are almost as legendary as his observational and analytical skills.”
—The Mirror (UK)
“[Nesbø is] the writer most likely to take the ice-cold crown in the critically acclaimed—and now bestselling—category of Nordic noir.”
—Los Angeles Times
About the Author
JO NESBØ is a musician, songwriter, and economist, as well as a writer. His Harry Hole novels include The Redeemer, The Snowman, The Leopard and Phantom, and he is also the author of several stand-alone novels and the Doctor Proctor series of children’s books. He is the recipient of numerous awards, including the Glass Key for best Nordic crime novel, and his books have sold thirty-three million copies in fifty languages.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Prologue
He stared into the white nothingness.
The way he had done for almost three years.
No one saw him, and he saw no one. Apart from each time the door opened and enough steam was sucked out for him to be able to glimpse a naked man for a brief moment before the door closed and everything was shrouded in fog.
The baths would be closing soon. He was alone.
He wrapped the white towelling bathrobe more tightly around him, got up from the wooden bench and walked out, past the empty swimming pool and into the changing room.
No trickling showers, no conversations in Turkish, no bare feet padding across the tiled floor. He looked at himself in the mirror. Ran a finger along the scar that was still visible after the last operation. It had taken him time to get used to his new face. His finger carried on down his throat, across his chest, and came to a halt at the start of the tattoo.
He removed the padlock from his locker, pulled on his trousers and put his coat on over the still damp bathrobe. Tied his shoelaces. He made sure he was definitely alone before going over to a locker with a coded padlock, one with a splash of blue paint on it. He turned the lock until it read 0999. Removed the lock and opened the door. Took a moment to admire the big, beautiful revolver that lay inside before taking hold of the red hilt and putting it in his coat pocket. Then he removed the envelope and opened it. A key. An address, and some more detailed information.
There was one more thing in the locker.
Painted black, made of iron.
He held it up against the light with one hand, looking at the wrought ironwork with fascination.
He would have to clean it, scrub it, but he already felt aroused at the thought of using it.
Three years. Three years in a white nothingness, in a desert of empty days.
Now it was time. Time he drank from the well of life again.
Time he returned.
Harry woke with a start. Stared out at the semi-darkness of the bedroom. It was him again, he was back, he was here.
“Nightmare, darling?” The whispered voice by his side was warm and soothing.
He turned towards her. Her brown eyes studied his. And the apparition faded and disappeared.
“I’m here,” Rakel said.
“And here I am,” he said.
“Who was it this time?”
“No one,” he lied, and touched her cheek. “Go back to sleep.”
Harry closed his eyes. Waited until he was sure she had closed hers before opening his again. He studied her face. He had seen him in a forest this time. Moorland, wreathed in white fog that swirled around them. He had raised his hand and pointed something towards Harry. He could just make out the demonic, tattooed face on his naked chest. Then the fog had grown thicker, and he was gone. Gone again.
“And here I am,” Harry Hole whispered.
Chapter One
Elise walked down Thorvald Meyers gate, past plain four-storey buildings that had once housed the working classes in a poor part of a poor city, but where one square metre now cost as much as in London or Stockholm. September in Oslo. The darkness was back at last, and the drawn-out, annoyingly light summer nights were long gone, with all the hysterical, cheerful, stupid self-expression of summer. In September Oslo reverted to its true self: melancholic, reserved, efficient. A solid facade, but not without its dark corners and secrets. Much like her, apparently. She quickened her pace; there was rain in the air, mist, the spray when God sneezed, as one of her dates had put it in an attempt to be poetic. She was going to give up Tinder. Tomorrow. Enough was enough. Enough randy men whose way of looking at her made her feel like a whore when she met them in bars. Enough crazy psychopaths and stalkers who stuck like mud, sucking time, energy and security from her. Enough pathetic losers who made her feel like she was one of them.
They said Internet dating was the cool way to meet new people, that it was nothing to be ashamed of anymore, that everyone was doing it. But that wasn’t true. People met each other at work, in classrooms, through friends, at the gym, in cafes, on planes, buses, trains. They met each other the way they were supposed to meet each other, when they were relaxed, no pressure, and afterwards they could cling to the romantic illusion of innocence, purity and quirks of fate. She wanted that illusion. She was going to delete her profile. She’d told herself that before, but this time it was definitely going to happen, that very night.
She crossed Sofienberggata and fished out the key to unlock the gate next to the greengrocer’s. She pushed the gate open and stepped into the darkness of the archway. And stopped dead.
There were two of them.
It took a moment or two for her eyes to get used to the darkness, and for her to see what they were holding in their hands. Both men had undone their trousers and had their cocks out.
She jerked back. Didn’t look round, just prayed that there was no one standing behind her.
“Fucksorry.” The combination of oath and apology was uttered by a young voice. Nineteen, twenty, Elise guessed. Not sober.
“Duh,” the other one said, “you’re pissing all over my shoes!”
“I was startled!”
Elise pulled her coat more tightly around her and walked past the young men, who had turned back to face the wall again. “This isn’t a public toilet,” she said.
“Sorry, we were desperate. It won’t happen again.”
…
Ping.
A match on Tinder.
The triumphant sound your phone makes when someone you’ve already swiped right on swipes your picture right as well.
Elise’s head was spinning, her heart was racing.
She knew it was the familiar response to the sound of Tinder’s matchmaking: increased heart rate as a consequence of excitement. That it released a whole load of happy chemicals that you could become addicted to. But that wasn’t why her heart was galloping. It was because the ping hadn’t come from her phone.
But the ping had rung out at the very moment she’d swiped right on a picture. The picture of a person who, according to Tinder, was less than a kilometre away from her.
She stared at the closed bedroom door. Swallowed.
The sound must have come from one of the neighbouring apartments. There were lots of single people living in the block, lots of potential Tinder users. And everything was quiet now, even on the floor below where the girls had been having a party when she went out earlier that evening. But there was only one way to get rid of imaginary monsters. By checking.
Elise got up from the sofa and walked the four steps over to the bedroom door. Hesitated. A couple of assault cases from work swirled through her head.
Then she pulled herself together and opened the door.
She found herself standing in the doorway gasping for air. Because there wasn’t any. None that she could breathe.
The light above the bed was switched on, and the first thing she saw was the soles of a pair of cowboy boots sticking off the end of the bed. Jeans and a pair of long legs, crossed. The man lying there was like the photograph, half in darkness, half out of focus. But he had unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his bare chest. And on his chest was a drawing or a tattoo of a face. That was what caught her eye now. The silently screaming face. As if it were held tight and was trying to pull free. Elise couldn’t bring herself to scream either.
Most helpful customer reviews
7 of 7 people found the following review helpful.
Excellent read. Harry Hole fans will be happy.
By Amazon Customer
Really enjoyed this book. Hard to put down and take a break. Full of twists and turns. A big cast of characters with some very interesting criminals. Harry is now a criminal lecturer but gets called back - one last time? - for a particularly nasty and seemingly crafty serial murderer.
Lots of back stabbing politicians, self serving police executives, and assorted women to make life extra miserable for Harry. In other words ... situation normal!!
15 of 16 people found the following review helpful.
Never disappoints
By CMB
Always a very good story line, full of action and twists. A loose end I would have liked answered but that's for the next book.
9 of 9 people found the following review helpful.
Another great Harry Hole story
By Amazon Customer
After 11 books Jo Nesbo can still manage to keep you on the edge till the very last page without spoiling the atmosphere.
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