On the Loose

"Natural storytellers are not too common, but Mr.
Coburn is one."

-The New York Times

"There is a Hitchcockian flavor to Andrew Coburn's
thrillers. He has a good eye and a great ear and his
people ring true."

-The Boston Globe

"For cold-blooded menace, Coburn goes from strength
to strength." -

-The London Observer

Coburn's "dialogue is perfect, sometimes acidic, and
~, , ~,
always intelligent."

-Chicago Tribune

"Coburn's tough as Dashiell Hammett and plots and
writes with the skill of Graham Greene."

-Newsday

Coburn's "characterizations are pitch-perfect, something out of Larry McMurtry."

-St. Louis Post-Dispatch

Sherwood, considered state of the art, was a youth
detention center situated well west of Boston. Bobby
Sawhill entered it in July, which distressed Chief
Morgan. "My fault," Morgan said, dropping wearily
into a chair near Meg O'Brien's desk. "A double
murder charge, he'd have been tried as an adult, no
question about it. Now he'll walk when he turns
twenty-one."

"Foolish to blame yourself, Meg said.

He knew no one else to blame. He'd been suspicious
about Mrs. Bullard's death but had never followed up.
A better policeman would have, he told himself.

"You don't know for sure;' Meg said.

Morgan said, "Yes, I do. In my gut. What I don't
know is why. Why Eve Bullard? Why Claudia?" His
voice was thin, clinical, without skin.

"Don't drive yourself crazy," she said.

He smiled. "You know what I also know, like it's
written on a blackboard?"

She knew and didn't want to be told. "You could be
wrong:'

"No, Meg. Sure as I'm sitting here, he'll kill again."