Val McDermid's The Distant Echo is, even more so than with her previous work, a masterpiece of trickery and misdirection. In 1978, four male students find the body of Rosie Duff half-buried in the snow and their lives are variously damaged by the suspicion that falls on them when the murder is never solved; a quarter of a century later, the case is reopened and suddenly the quartet start to be killed one after the other. This is an effective thriller because it is so intelligent about the ways in which time changes things-secrets that seemed important become trivial and investigative techniques become ever more accurate. It is also intelligent about the ways in which things do not change-the friendships of the four men persist even when one becomes a fundamentalist preacher and another a post-modern literary theorist. Unusually for McDermid, this is a very Scots book as well-the investigating officers Maclennan and Lawson are very much men of a particular time and place. McDermid has a real sense of how to make forensic details count in a murder story-she also, more importantly, has a heart-this is a novel that makes us care passionately about victims and suspects alike. -Roz Kaveney.

In Bare Bones Kathy Reichs leads her heroine, Temperance Brennan, into one of her scariest, most gruesome adventures yet. As fans of this popular series already know, Tempe is a forensic anthropologist: an expert in the human form (especially bones) who helps solve crimes. A dead baby is only the first in a series of grisly remains, both human and animal, that Tempe must sort through and decode. Meanwhile, as several seemingly unrelated cases begin to intertwine, her sleuthing puts her in the crosshairs of a very nasty stalker who hides behind an e-mail alias. Reichs knows how to keep the narrative ball rolling with a canny mix of plot developments, character delineation and scientific detail, all relayed via Tempe's smart, breezy, sarcastic voice. In fact, Bare Bones has a few too many characters and plot lines for Reichs-or most readers-to keep perfect track of. But it's a fun ride anyway, enlivened by some steamy romantic scenes and some fascinating, appalling facts about the illicit trade in endangered wildlife, including the information that bears' gall bladders fetch more money per ounce than cocaine. Bare Bones is a crisp, enjoyable read that cements Kathy Reichs' standing as the best forensic-thriller writer at work today. -Nicholas H Allison, Amazon. com.

For a considerable time Tess Gerritsen has been producing some of the most challenging - and disturbing - crime novels being written today. A speciality, of course, is her preparedness to go further than most authors would dare to - male or female - and with The Mephisto Club, she once more seems prepared to face the reader and say: if you can take it, I can dish it out. While Gerritsen has found new things to say in the genre of the serial killer novel, what really distinguishes her work is the brilliant characterisation of her twin heroines, medical examiner Dr Maura Isles and Detective Jane Rizzoli. Both protagonists feature in this latest novel, and while it might not crank up the tension to the same degree as the remarkable Vanish, it will be a rare reader indeed who will be able to put this one down. Christmas in Boston brings horror rather than good cheer when a woman's body is found dismembered in a crime scene that leaves even hardened cops queasy. Doctor Maura Isles is assigned to the case, but soon another brutal murder takes place: a woman has been mutilated and murdered on Beacon Hill, near the home of the director of the Mephisto Club. This is a clandestine society whose subject is the study of evil - and its agenda is to confront it in its most unadulterated forms. As Detective Jane Rizzoli becomes involved, it's quickly apparent that both women (no strangers to the bloodiest extremes of human cruelty) are up against something which is close to a distillation of the purest evil. This isn't quite Tess Gerritsen on her very best form, but it's still more compelling and audacious than most thrillers being written today. The legions of Tess Gerritsen fans need not hesitate. [+]

In Adam and Eve and Pinch Me, Ruth Rendell once again tackles the dark and dangerous side of human psychology. It is this quality that defines her as a writer and distinguishes her from the other British Queens of Crime: PD James and Minette Walters (although some would argue that Val McDermid is now in that category). She take the reader into a more sinister and threatening world than any of her contemporaries, and there is a reason why she remains non-pareil in this territory: a reason demonstrated with disturbing impact in Adam and Eve and Pinch Me. Rendell's speciality is her ability to enter the psychopathology of her characters and make us not only understand their often murderous behaviour, but also vicariously participate. It's a skill that Hitchcock made his own in the cinema, but he rarely moved into such black waters as Rendell. This new book continues a trend initiated in earlier work by Rendell: the grafting of supernatural elements into a typical Rendellian tale of menace. And what makes the ghost in the new book so disturbing is the total avoidance of cliché: no grey, wispy phantom, this-it is disturbingly corporeal. Jock Lewis died in the Paddington train crash. Or did he? His fiancée Minty is coming to terms with both his loss and the loss of all her savings, which Jock vanished with. And there is Zilla, who had been married to a man called Jerry Leach. [+]