There’s a tangible excitement when you pick up a Scarpetta novel after patiently waiting for a year. For me, I can’t wait to get back into it and find out what these much loved characters have been up to in my absence.

Unfortunately the first thing I learnt was that Kay hasn’t beefed up her security at home. I really think it’s time that she considers moving, or at least having a more secure perimeter around her home, as it often seems to be the epicenter of torment or a catalyst to a situation she’s found herself in.

So we peek in at Kay and Benton, on her (un-numbered) birthday, as they plan a retreat to Florida, a well earned rest and reprieve from the madness of their occupations.

Kay goes out the back with Sock, is warming up the bbq when she sees seven pennies, looking shiny and new, lined up on her wall, mocking her. They were minted in her niece, Lucy’s, birth year.

With the discovery of these pennies, Benton’s well planned holiday crumbles, as they are drawn into crimes in the local area that are uncannily intertwined, and also begin to take on a personal note.

Kay’s being followed and tormented by a disfigured insurance investigator, Marino is struggling with his partner at the police and is concerned about corruption and mishandling evidence, Benton is stoic and knows more than what he’s letting on, and Lucy has somehow made herself a suspect in all of this, even though it seems impossible for her to be the culprit….but she’s got the experience and know how that could make it happen.

You follow along with Kay as she attempts to reconcile the hurt, anger and dismay of these situations, as it seems that the very structure of her life is falling apart. It’s that feeling you get when you know the answer but it’s just out of reach. And this infuriates her more, when her family is compromised and in danger, she isn’t putting the pieces together fast enough. There’s a heavy, ominous feeling throughout the novel, as you wait for one of her loved ones to be the next person on the hit list. With a title like “Flesh and Blood”, you can only assume that one of our favourites is going down, right?

I know there have been grumbles these past few years about the composition of the Scarpetta novels, but Flesh and Blood has found it’s groove. You turn these pages with enthusiasm and slight trepidation, because you know that whatever is coming, is going to change their lives and there might not be a way to turn back to how it once was.