Author: David Rosenfelt

Title: Down to the Wire

Publisher: St. Martin's

Turning his attention from the world of law to journalism, David Rosenfelt hasn't strayed too far from the sweet spot that has vaulted him to the top of the heap in the mystery genre.

In Down to the Wire, only his second novel not to feature lawyer Andy Carpenter, Rosenfelt pens a thriller that sneaks up on you, paced in such a way that it never feels like a pulse-pounder, but remains eminently irresistible.

The plot follows the exploits of a new working class everyman, reporter Chris Turley. A beat reporter for the Bergen Record, Turley attempts to fill the shoes of his late father Edward, legendary in the field for exposing the dark side of hypocrites in high places. So desperate for a big-time story is Turley that he agrees to a blind meeting with an anonymous tipster.

He arrives at the meeting, and soon after, the office building across the street blows up. He braves the blast to rescue survivors, and soon becomes a national hero. Turley's overnight fame blinds him from seeing what we, the reader, can: that it's more than a coincidence that P.T. the tipster chose that location just before the explosion.

So begins the classic cat-and-mouse dance between killer and pursuer. It's not a new trope to the thriller genre, but it's one which Rosenfelt plays enough games with to keep things interesting. For starters, Turley's a reporter, not a cop, so he has to play by different rules. The serial bomber, referred to as nothing more than P.T. throughout, is a crackerjack baddie. Sure, he's all kinds of crazy, but he's engrossing in his ruthlessness.

Take, for example, his method of exploding. He's placed bombs activated by an electric charge on cars throughout the tri-state area, and activates them randomly when he wants to make a point. He makes certain, however, to check via GPS transmitter that the car is moving so he doesn't just blow up a car, he gets a person too. It's sick, but the perfect foil for clean-cut Turley.

Rosenfelt's pacing is his primary success here. He knows exactly when to ratchet up the tension, and, just like P.T., his timing of the bombings is arbitrary and shocking. He introduces a character, travels with them through a segment of their day, and then abruptly disposes of them in a dispassionate tone. He describes the death of retiree Clark Hendricks from a bomb inside his shed: "Clark turned the key and lived another quarter of a second." Even though we know what's coming to these poor victims, we're still shocked at the suddenness of it.

Fans of the thriller will revel in the care taken to develop this dual between Turley and P.T. And there is one major twist three-quarters of the way through that's mind-blowing and only slightly illogical. Rosenfelt isn't so much reinventing a genre as tunneling safely around inside of it. While it doesn't seem as though Chris Turley is a character bound for further adventures at this point, he's likeable enough to demand follow-ups. Rosenfelt, obviously, has many more tricks up his sleeve. 

*This review first published 2/17/2011