Audible会員プラン登録で、12万以上の対象タイトルが聴き放題。
-
The Killing 2
- ナレーター: Christian Rodska
- 再生時間: 20 時間 34 分
カートのアイテムが多すぎます
カートに追加できませんでした。
ウィッシュリストに追加できませんでした。
ほしい物リストの削除に失敗しました。
ポッドキャストのフォローに失敗しました
ポッドキャストのフォロー解除に失敗しました
聴き放題対象外タイトルです。Audible会員登録で、非会員価格の30%OFFで購入できます。
批評家のレビュー
“As gripping as the TV series. It will keep you pinned to very last page” (Jens Lapidus)
”David Hewson has achieved the seemingly impossible . . . just as gripping as the television serial . . . this book is worth reading” (The Literary Review)
”A novel in the hugely experienced hands of David Hewson that defies expectation. Hewson’s style is tight, lean, almost like a film script” (Express)
”Clear, clipped prose is beautifully up to the task, as is his forensic attention to the original's details . . . And the ending leaves a very different, but no less thought-provoking taste” (Mirror)
”David Hewson should be commended for writing such a page-turner of a book . . . The Killing has enough twists and turns to satisfy not only any avid follower of the series but also readers that are coming to it first time around” (www.shotsmag.co.uk)
あらすじ・解説
Thirty nine steps rose from the busy road of Tuborgvej into Mindelunden, with its quiet graves and abiding bitter memories. Lennart Brix, head of the Copenhagen homicide team, felt he’d been walking those most of his life. Beneath the entrance arch, sheltering from the icy rain, he couldn’t help but recall that first visit almost fifty years before. A five-year-old boy, clutching the hand of his father, barely able to imagine what he was about see…
The bark of a dog broke his reverie. Brix looked at the forensic officers, white bunny suits, mob hats, marching grim-faced down the rows of graves, towards the space in the little wood where the rest of the team was gathering… Three gnarled stakes, replicas now, with the originals in the Frihedsmuseet.
A woman was tied to the centre pole, hands behind her back, bound with heavy rope round her torso. Blonde hair soaked with rain and worse, head down, chin on chest, crouched awkwardly on her knees. A gaping wound at her neck like a sick second smile. She wore a blue dressing gown slashed in places all the way to the waist, flesh and skin visible where the frenzied blade had stabbed at her.
Her face was bruised and dirty. Blood poured from her nostrils, had dried down each side of her mouth, like makeup on a tragic clown…