Saturday, January 22, 2011

Secrets to the Grave, by Tami Hoag (Dutton; $26.95)


Teacher-turned-child protector Anne Leone has barely recovered from her near murder when she’s called in to help on another case: a 4-year-old is found barely alive, draped over her mother’s body. The only clue is a 911 call the child made in which she said “My daddy hurt my mommy.”

Should be cut and dried, except that many men in mommy’s life were called “daddy.” The local sheriff needs help, and turns to Anne’s husband, Vince, an FBI profiler. Soon the victim’s best friend goes missing, the victim’s body parts are mailed to another friend, and the investigators learn that there are as many mysteries surrounding the victim’s true identity as there are surrounding her death.

I wish Tami Hoag would move on from the Leones. I just don’t like them. They don’t seem to fit together very well, so their dialogue is not realistic. I find Anne to be particularly unlikable. She wants to help children, which is admirable; yet she is inconsistent and does not always seem to have the child’s best interest at heart. She fought to keep a troubled child out of a juvenile facility after he stabbed a classmate, and as a result, he was housed the county mental hospital—not the best solution, in my opinion.  Anne visited him for a while, but dropped him when the 4-year-old came into her life. (Anne has lots of excuses for why she could no longer visit the boy, but I’m not buying. He was a 12-year-old surly troublemaker, and she replaced him with a 4-year-old little princess. I’d probably act out, too, which is just what the older child did, with terrible results.)

It also troubled me that Anne and Vince were allowed to take the 4-year-old home without already being approved foster parents. Perhaps the state of California, where the book takes place, is okay with well-intentioned folks stepping up to take care of children in situations like this; I’d feel a whole lot better if the parents had to undergo some screening and training in fostering first. Particularly since Vince is the first to admit that he was a lousy father to his own kids.

I’m not going to read another Tami Hoag mystery if these characters are in it.  The mystery isn’t compelling enough, there are far too many red herrings, and the romance—something Hoag used to excel at—is tepid at best.