I started out liking this book very much. In the opening chapter of James Kipling’s Killed, the author breaks the rules of thrillers by just spending time with our hero, Detective Jake Walker, on an ordinary day, before the bodies start falling. I personally liked this. I found Jake likeable and relatable – a dedicated police detective (in an unnamed city) whose work has destroyed his marriage, but who is still determined to do right by his three daughters.

When the call comes (on his weekend off) to come to the scene of a murder, he is galvanized – because the murder has taken place on the university campus where his oldest daughter is a student. The victim turns out to be the star player on the football team, tortured and murdered slowly. Jake is convinced this has to be a personal crime. When further bodies are found on campus – and later off campus – he continues certain that this is not an ordinary serial killer at work, but someone with a particular grievance to avenge.

The further I got into Killed, the more disappointed I grew with the writing. Although Jake interested me as a person, I had trouble buying him as a cop. I’m not an expert on police procedure, but the way he ran the investigation didn’t “ring true” to me. His superior seemed to be taking orders from him, and when they called in the FBI for help, Jake himself made the decision (I think that would be his boss’s call). And when the FBI did show up, there was no jurisdictional friction – the Feds and the locals always posture a little for precedence, at least in books.

And I figured out the killer before I think I was supposed to.

So I found Killed a bit of a disappointment. Not hard to read, but poorly plotted, in my opinion. Cautions for the usual.