"From the detective who found The Golden State Killer, a memoir of investigating America's toughest cold cases and the rewards--and toll--of a life solving crime. I order another bourbon, neat. This is the drink that will flip the switch. I don't even know how I got here, to this place, to this point. Something is happening to me lately. I'm drinking too much. My sheets are soaking wet when I wake up from nightmares of decaying corpses. I order another drink and swig it, trying to forget about the latest case I can't shake. Crime-solving for me is more complex than the challenge of the hunt, or the process of piecing together a scientific puzzle. The thought of good people suffering drives me, for better or worse, to the point of obsession. People always ask how I am able to detach from the horrors of my work. Part of it is an innate capacity to compartmentalize; the rest is experience and exposure, and I've had plenty of both. But I had always taken pride in the fact that I can keep my feelings locked up to get the job done. It's only been recently that it feels like all that suppressed darkness is beginning to seep out. When I look back at my long career, there is a lot I am proud of. I have caught some of the most notorious killers of the twenty-first century and brought justice and closure for their victims and families. I want to tell you about a lifetime solving these cold cases, from Laci Peterson to Jaycee Dugard to the Pittsburgh homicides to, yes, my twenty-year-long hunt for the Golden State Killer. But a deeper question eats at me as I ask myself, at what cost? I have sacrificed relationships, joy-even fatherhood-because the pursuit of evil always came first. Did I make the right choice? It's something I grapple with every day. Yet as I stand in the spot where a young girl took her last breath, as I look into the eyes of her family, I know that, for me, there has never been a choice. "I don't know if I can solve your case," I whisper. "But I promise I will do my best." It is a promise I know I can keep"--
How does a cold-case investigator detach from the horrors of his work? Part of it is an innate capacity to compartmentalize; the rest is experience and exposure. Holes has had plenty of both, but always takes pride in the fact that he can keep his locked up to get the job done. Here he looks back over his long career: catching some of the most notorious killers of the twenty-first century and bringing justice and closure for their victims and families. But along the way he has sacrificed relationships, joy-- even fatherhood-- because the pursuit of evil always came first. -- adapted from jacket