
Enjoy fast, free delivery, exclusive deals, and award-winning movies & TV shows with Prime
Try Prime
and start saving today with fast, free delivery
Amazon Prime includes:
Fast, FREE Delivery is available to Prime members. To join, select "Try Amazon Prime and start saving today with Fast, FREE Delivery" below the Add to Cart button.
Amazon Prime members enjoy:- Cardmembers earn 5% Back at Amazon.com with a Prime Credit Card.
- Unlimited Free Two-Day Delivery
- Streaming of thousands of movies and TV shows with limited ads on Prime Video.
- A Kindle book to borrow for free each month - with no due dates
- Listen to over 2 million songs and hundreds of playlists
- Unlimited photo storage with anywhere access
Important: Your credit card will NOT be charged when you start your free trial or if you cancel during the trial period. If you're happy with Amazon Prime, do nothing. At the end of the free trial, your membership will automatically upgrade to a monthly membership.
Buy new:
$14.42$14.42
FREE delivery: Wednesday, April 3 on orders over $35.00 shipped by Amazon.
Ships from: Amazon Sold by: Prime Goods Outlet
Buy used: $6.57
Other Sellers on Amazon
+ $4.95 shipping
89% positive over last 12 months
FREE Shipping
100% positive over lifetime
FREE Shipping
94% positive over last 12 months

Download the free Kindle app and start reading Kindle books instantly on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required.
Read instantly on your browser with Kindle for Web.
Using your mobile phone camera - scan the code below and download the Kindle app.
Two Nights: A Novel Hardcover – July 11, 2017
Purchase options and add-ons
Meet Sunday Night, a woman with physical and psychological scars, and a killer instinct. . . .
Sunnie has spent years running from her past, burying secrets and building a life in which she needs no one and feels nothing. But a girl has gone missing, lost in the chaos of a bomb explosion, and the family needs Sunnie’s help. Is the girl dead? Did someone take her? If she is out there, why doesn’t she want to be found?
It’s time for Sunnie to face her own demons—because they just might lead her to the truth about what really happened all those years ago.
*Publishers Weekly
Praise for Two Nights
“Reichs’ newest heroine, the polar opposite of cerebral Temperance Brennan, is fueled by a well-nigh uncontrollable rage in her thrilling, violent search for a missing girl so much like herself.”—Kirkus Reviews
“Brennan fans should appreciate Sunday [Night] . . . the star of this fast-paced series launch from bestseller Reichs. [The finale] seems designed for the big screen.”—Publishers Weekly
“The writing is crisp and vivid. . . . The story is cleverly plotted. . . . Reichs’ legion of fans should be encouraged to check out this one.”—Booklist
Praise for Kathy Reichs
“I love Kathy Reichs—always scary, always suspenseful, and I always learn something.”—Lee Child
“Kathy Reichs continues to be one of the most distinctive and talented writers in the genre. Her legion of readers worldwide will agree with me when I declare that the more books she writes, the more enthusiastic fans she’ll garner.”—Sandra Brown
“Nobody does forensics thrillers like Kathy Reichs. She’s the real deal.”—David Baldacci
“Kathy Reichs writes smart—no, make that brilliant—mysteries.”—James Patterson
“Reichs, a forensic anthropologist, makes her crime novels intriguingly realistic.”—Entertainment Weekly
- Print length336 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherBantam
- Publication dateJuly 11, 2017
- Dimensions6.41 x 1.07 x 9.52 inches
- ISBN-100345544072
- ISBN-13978-0345544070
Frequently bought together

Similar items that may deliver to you quickly
Editorial Reviews
Review
“Reichs’ newest heroine, the polar opposite of cerebral Temperance Brennan, is fueled by a well-nigh uncontrollable rage in her thrilling, violent search for a missing girl so much like herself.”—Kirkus Reviews
“Brennan fans should appreciate Sunday [Night] . . . the star of this fast-paced series launch from bestseller Reichs . . . a self-sufficient, tough-talking, scarred heroine. [The finale] seems designed for the big screen.”—Publishers Weekly
“The writing is crisp and vivid. . . . The story is cleverly plotted. . . . Reichs’ legion of fans should be encouraged to check out this one.”—Booklist
Praise for Kathy Reichs
“I love Kathy Reichs—always scary, always suspenseful, and I always learn something.”—Lee Child
“Kathy Reichs continues to be one of the most distinctive and talented writers in the genre. Her legion of readers worldwide will agree with me when I declare that the more books she writes, the more enthusiastic fans she’ll garner.”—Sandra Brown
“Nobody does forensics thrillers like Kathy Reichs. She’s the real deal.”—David Baldacci
“Kathy Reichs writes smart—no, make that brilliant—mysteries.”—James Patterson
“Reichs, a forensic anthropologist, makes her crime novels intriguingly realistic.”—Entertainment Weekly
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
1
My right-hand neighbor thinks I’m crazy, so she brings me cheese.
I heard the one-two crunch of her boots on the path. A pause, then the oyster shells crunched again.
I lifted a corner of the towel covering my kitchen window. She was already five yards off, a shadow-laced smudge among the live oaks.
Six years, and I still didn’t know her name. Didn’t want to. Had no desire to exchange recipes or comments on the tides.
I cracked the door, snagged the plastic-wrapped package, and shoved it into the fridge.
Truth is, I don’t mind the cheese. What I hate are the sharp little eyes plumbing my soul. That and the pity.
And the goats. When the wind is right, the bleating bullies into my dreams and I’m back in Helmand with the blood and the dust.
Or maybe I’m reading the old gal wrong. Maybe the cheese is a bribe so I don’t murder Billie or Nanny.
My left-hand neighbor hanged himself from the end of his pier. His dog curled up and died by his head. Double suicide. Maggot jamboree by the time the bodies were found.
Arthur was a wood-carver, Prince a collie. I prefer their silent company. Fits my two-pronged plan for life. Need no one. Feel nothing.
I ran six miles and put in time with my free weights. A beer and a sandwich for lunch, then I spent the afternoon shooting Cheerwine cans off a dune at Gray Bay. The beach was deserted and not far away. Nothing is.
Goat Island is a skinny strip of sand just a monkey’s spit wide, uninhabited until Henry and Blanche Holloway rowed over to escape the stresses of 1930s Charleston. Legend has it they spent decades in a hole covered with driftwood and palm fronds.
Now that sounds warp-speed psycho to me.
But Henry and Blanche had one thing right. For solitude, Goat Island is the cat’s meow. Even today there’s no ferry, no paved road, ergo no cars or trucks. No access except by private boat. Outsiders rarely find reason to come.
The few scrappy residents live in cottages cobbled together from wreckage ignored or tossed ashore by Hurricane Hugo. My porch roof is the ass end of a disemboweled rowboat. Goat Lady’s shed started life as Arthur’s latrine.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t live hole-in-the-ground au naturel batty. I’ve got electricity, a septic tank. All the advantages.
The downside to Goat is the spring mosquitoes, some large enough to carry off St. Bernards. By six the bloodsuckers were organizing into squadrons, preparing to strike. Over and out for moi.
I was home rubbing aloe on bites when the bell above the stove jangled its jerry-rigged warning.
The moths did their frenzied dance in my chest.
I dug the shotgun from my duffel, thumbed shells into the chamber, and crept to a window. The sun was low, flaming the waterway orange and making me squint.
Far below, a figure crouched on my dock, securing lines. Both human and boat were featureless black cutouts against the tangerine glow.
My grip tightened on the stock, ready to pump.
The figure straightened and headed my way. Male. Barrel-chested. Not big, but muscular in a scrawny-arms-and-legs way.
I recognized the confident drill-sergeant stride. The contour of the ragged Tilley hat. Not vintage, just old.
Shit!
I snapped into action. Ammo out and into the duffel, guns into the closet. Liquor bottles, glasses, and dirty dishes under the sink. Yesterday’s clothes and flip-flops heave-ho into the bedroom.
His knock was hard enough to rattle the screen in its jamb. One last look around, then I hurried to undo the inner door locks. Two, then the deadbolt.
He stood with hands on hips, looking left toward the marsh. His eyes were blue, his face weathered as the month of March.
“What’s wrong?” Mouth dry. No one ever came uninvited. No one ever came.
“Something’s gotta be wrong for me to drop by?” Gravelly. Gruff.
“Of course not.” Plastic smile molding my face. “You usually give a heads-up.”
“How? Send a pigeon?”
I said nothing.
“You gonna leave me out here till I need a transfusion?”
I lifted the hook and stepped back. Beau entered, gaze skimming. A cop gaze. One spin around the cottage, then it settled on me, running the same critique I resent in my neighbor.
The scar burned an itchy path below my right eye.
“I didn’t recognize the boat.” Concentrating on normal.
“Getting the gel coat repaired. But what? You were maybe expecting Bowie?”
“He died.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Gonna offer a man a beer?”
I got two Palmetto Ambers from the fridge and we moved to the living room, a small hexagon accessed through a wood-trimmed arch. Ceiling fan, sofa, two threadbare chairs, three beat-to-hell tables. No need for décor. Only Beau and one other were allowed in my home.
Beau dropped onto the sofa, sloughed off the hat, and took a long pull of his beer. His hair was gray and buzzed to the scalp. Had been since I’d known him. Probably since his mama first shaved it with clippers at a kitchen chair.
I sat opposite, knees jutting, feet under my bum. The five-window view wrapped us like an IMAX featuring the Atlantic seaboard.
A picture formed in my head. Beau with a younger man’s face. Hiding his frustration, his pride. Not pleading, but close. Asking a fellow cop to give his foster kid yet another break. Red-blue pulsing his badge and the honky-tonk shack at his back.
Beau raised his right ankle to his left knee. Cleared his throat. Levered the foot up and down several times.
“Had an interesting call today.” Eyes on a Top-Sider as old as the hat. “Lady name of Opaline Drucker.”
That triggered a ping in some remote brain chip.
“Who is she?”
“I’ll leave the telling of that for after.”
“After what?”
“Hearing me out.” Tone a million miles from drop-by casual. “Mrs. Drucker has a problem. I think you can help her.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
Beau took another swig, then set the bottle on the floor. Uncrossing his legs, he leaned forward and looked me full in the eye. “You’re in a bad place, Sunnie.”
“I’m happy as a clam out here.” Arms uplifted to emphasize the level of my joy.
“We both know that’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, I get it. You overreacted, you killed the bastard.”
“PSO ruled it a justified shoot.” Curt. The incident was the final straw for the Professional Standards Office, Charleston PD’s version of internal affairs. The end of my career in law enforcement. And ancient history.
“Damn straight it was.” Beau flicked dirt from jeans too faded to qualify as blue. Maybe a bug. “The scumbag nearly took out your eye.”
“No way I’d ride a desk.” Cheeks burning.
“Hell no. I’d have quit, too.”
“You here to remind me what a loser I am? First the Corps, then the job? News flash. I already know.” Meaner than I intended. Or not.
“Knock it off.”
“Get to the point.”
“It’s been six years.”
“Ah. You’ve come to enforce some kind of self-pity statute.” Arm-wrapping my chest and tucking my hands into my pits. “Oh, wait. You’re off the force, too.”
Beau breathed deeply. Exhaled through his nose. Chose his words.
“You can’t hide on this island, talking to no one, doing God knows what to yourself.”
“Yes. I can.”
“You’ve withdrawn from the whole goddamned human race.”
“I have a bestie that lives in my bedside table. Want to meet him?”
“See. There you go. The least little pressure and out come the jokes.”
“I have you.”
“I’m about all you have.”
“And you think I’m nuts.” God knows I did.
“Of course you’re not nuts.” Frustrated, trying for patient. “But you can’t just sit out here doing nothing.”
“I run, I shoot, I fish, I read.” Gut rolled tight as an armadillo under threat.
“It’s not normal.”
“I’ve tried normal. Too many rules. Too much constraint.” Too much rage? I’m a big girl. I can own it now.
“Why are you so goddamned stubborn?”
“It’s a gift.”
I detest explaining myself. To Beau. To the therapists with their gentle eyes and nonprobing questions that probe. To anyone. I changed the subject.
“What’s this got to do with Orphaline Drucker?”
“Opaline. I think helping her could benefit you.”
“Wow. I’m your new project.”
Beau ignored that. “Drucker’s granddaughter’s been missing for over a year.”
“Kids run off. They’re famous for it.” I knocked back some beer.
“She was only fifteen.” A beat, then, “Opaline thinks she’s been grabbed by a cult.”
Unbidden, another cerebral barrage. I sent the images to the place where I keep them all buried.
A full minute. Then I said, “Let me get this straight. I’m to be this kid’s savior because I need saving?”
“Something like that.”
Beau’s eyes were now blue-laser-focused on mine. I stared back, every neuron in my brain ordering retreat.
Still, I bit. “Where’s she being held?”
“No one knows.”
Silence on our side of the window screens. On the other, animated gull conversation about crabs or fish. Maybe trash.
“I don’t know shit about finding MPs,” I said.
“You were SERE.” Beau used the military acronym for Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape.
“That’s different.” It was. But I got his point.
“And how was it you were chosen to teach those courses?”
“Lottery?”
“Right. And the other intel ‘duties’ we don’t talk about?” Air-hooking quotes around the purposely vague noun.
I took another swallow.
The curtains lifted on a breeze smelling of salt and pluff mud.
The room crept a few nanometers from orange toward amber.
Other memories bubbled up. Uneaten bologna sandwiches, blown-off guitar lessons, a lipstick-ravaged wall, once painted pink to please a teenage girl.
Beau tried hard the three short years that he had me. Never got a thank-you from his surly, copper-haired ward.
“Talk about the kid.” I broke the silence.
“Better you get the facts direct from Opaline.”
“A face-to-face meet?” Blood pulsing in the little shallow beside my collarbone.
“You can use my car.”
Taking my silence as consent, Beau pushed to his feet and handed me a blue-lined page ripped from a spiral notebook. Eyes pointed elsewhere, I flipped it onto the table beside me.
When Beau was gone, I tossed the paper into the wastebasket by my bathroom sink. An icy shower, then I armed the security system, checked for creatures outside my windows, and hit the rack.
Sleep was evasive, which is normal for me. But this was different. I’ve spent so long trying not to think about the past, about those two nights, that my insomniac mind tends to focus on the present. Buy butter. Clean the guns. Change the porch bulb.
That night I was visited by a million ghosts.
Product details
- Publisher : Bantam; First Edition (July 11, 2017)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 336 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0345544072
- ISBN-13 : 978-0345544070
- Item Weight : 1.64 pounds
- Dimensions : 6.41 x 1.07 x 9.52 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #1,171,167 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #30,029 in Women Sleuths (Books)
- #47,964 in Suspense Thrillers
- #58,784 in American Literature (Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author

Kathy Reichs’s first novel Déjà Dead catapulted her to fame when it became a New York Times
bestseller and won the 1997 Ellis Award for Best First Novel. Her other Temperance Brennan
books include Death du Jour, Deadly Décisions, Fatal Voyage, Grave Secrets, Bare Bones,
Monday Mourning, Cross Bones, Break No Bones, Bones to Ashes, Devil Bones, 206 Bones,
Spider Bones, Flash and Bones, Bones Are Forever, Bones of the Lost, Bones Never Lie,
Speaking in Bones, A Conspiracy of Bones, The Bone Code, Cold Cold Bones, The Bone
Hacker and the Temperance Brennan short story collection, The Bone Collection. Fire and
Bones will be released in the Summer of 2024. In addition, Kathy co-authored the Virals young
adult series with her son, Brendan Reichs. The best-selling titles are: Virals, Seizure, Code,
Exposure, Terminal, and the novella collection Trace Evidence. The series follows the
adventures of Temperance Brennan’s great niece, Tory Brennan. Dr. Reichs was also a
producer of the hit Fox TV series, Bones, which is based on her work and her novels.
From teaching FBI agents how to detect and recover human remains, to separating and
identifying commingled body parts in her Montreal lab, as a forensic anthropologist Kathy
Reichs has brought her own dramatic work experience to her mesmerizing forensic thrillers. For
years she consulted to the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in North Carolina and to the
Laboratoire de Sciences Judiciaires et de Médecine Légale for the province of Québec. Dr.
Reichs has travelled to Rwanda to testify at the UN Tribunal on Genocide, and helped exhume
a mass grave in Guatemala. As part of her work at JPAC (Formerly CILHI) she aided in the
identification of war dead from World War II, Korea, and Southeast Asia. Dr. Reichs also
assisted in the recovery of remains at the World Trade Center following the 9/11 terrorist
attacks.
Dr. Reichs is one of very few forensic anthropologists ever certified by the American Board of
Forensic Anthropology. She served on the Board of Directors and as Vice President of both the
American Academy of Forensic Sciences and the American Board of Forensic Anthropology,
and as a member of the National Police Services Advisory Council in Canada. She is a
Professor Emeritus in the Department of Anthropology at the University of North Carolina-
Charlotte.
Dr. Reichs is a native of Chicago, where she received her Ph.D. at Northwestern. She now
divides her time between Charlotte, NC and Montreal, Québec.
Customer reviews
Customer Reviews, including Product Star Ratings help customers to learn more about the product and decide whether it is the right product for them.
To calculate the overall star rating and percentage breakdown by star, we don’t use a simple average. Instead, our system considers things like how recent a review is and if the reviewer bought the item on Amazon. It also analyzed reviews to verify trustworthiness.
Learn more how customers reviews work on AmazonReviews with images

-
Top reviews
Top reviews from the United States
There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later.
Sunnis had a rough childhood, horror filled combat in the military and then injured and put on disability as a police woman.
Now she lives Aline on an isolated island. When called upon, she works as a private investigator.
This story is complex, shows her strengths as a PI and involved finding a child that had been kidnapped by the JJ cult. Thus, many of her unsettled memories of her childhood rise to the surface. The book is well written, keeps the writers attention so that one desires another book with a mystery for her (and Gus) to solve with some guidance from their adopted dad.
It was an enthralling, compelling novel. Sunday Night, our new heroine, is a gripping complex character. She is extremely different from Temperance yet they share a vital characteristic: the need to see criminals held acccountable while protecting the innocents. Sunday Night is simultaneously hard and isolated yet deeply committed to her family and her cause. Reichs reveals just enough of Night's history and inner turmoil to explain her behaviors and choices. This lets us, the readers, come to admire and care about Night while still possibly being a bit wary of her. I look forward to getting to know Sunday Night as well as we've come to know Temperance Brennan.
The supporting cast of characters were deftly crafted as well. I am as interested in their stories as I am in Sunday's background. They too were strongly established with lots of room left to grow.
The mystery was suspensefully built up and never dragged along. Events unfolded logically and in at fantastic pace. Any and all twists were firmly grounded in the facts of the story yet still packed a wallop.
The villains were fleshed out and all too true to life.
I eagerly await the next installment of Sunday Night's missions.
But I wanted to be fair and give her new character a try.
The story is ok as far as that goes;but I doubt I'll read another about Sunday Night.
I wish I could put my finger on a specific reason. One thing, Sunday's inner talk is wayyyy to much like Temperance.
Some of the terminology and phrasing is identical. A character with Sunday's background would never say
something like "my evening toilette" (as Brennan does often)
Perhaps I'm wrong; but I don't think this character will get off the ground.
Hopefully,this is a one-off for this character.
It's not a dud by any stretch. After all it's Kathy Reichs; just not at her best.
In an effort to help Sunday, her foster father introduces her to a Grande dame of Charleston, whose only child and grandson were killed a year before in a terrorist bombing. Her only granddaughter, Stella, is missing. Sunday immediately forms an emotional bond with the missing 15 year old and agreed to search for her and the terrorists who killed her family.
The story skips from Chicago to L. A. to Washington D.C., and finally to my home state of Kentucky (Louisville). I was excited to read about Churchill Downs and the Kentucky Derby.
There were many remarkable characters in this story, especially Gus aka August Night, Sunday's twin brother - she's white with red hair, he's black with green eyes. Their backstory is amazing and I long to know more about them.
The story had many twists and turns that kept me guessing until the end. Even when I was crying at what I perceived was the end, Ms. Reichs throws another curveball.
I know this book is touted as a stand-alone novel, but I sincerely hope Ms. Reichs will decided to continue on with the story of the two Nights.
I wish there was more depth to each of the characters, it's difficult to figure out what their prior experiences/lives were, and how they turned into the people we meet. They talk rather flippantly, not in a way that real people talk. The story, while maintaining interest, is also quite unbelievable and unrealistic.
I am a big fan of Temperance Brennan, and I prefer the writing style in those books to this one; the Temperance books are much more realistic, and the stories flows much better for me. I also like the technical aspects of those tales, but that is completely lacking in Two Nights.
So, Two Nights is an ok read, but, for me, it lacks the sophistication and the in depth familiarity the author has of the forensics field.
I don't know if there are planned sequels, it would be interesting to learn more about the Two Nights characters.
Top reviews from other countries



The story itself was so totally different to the Brennan novels that it was good to realise that the author has more strings to her bow and I was immediately dragged in to the life of Sunday Night and her twin brother Gus. Sunday is commissioned, against her initial better judgement, by a wealthy old lady who is desperate to find her missing granddaughter after a bomb blast at a Jewish school which killed the girl’s mother and brother. Stella has not been seen since the blast and no-one knows whether she is dead or alive. All the way through the story the chapters are interspersed with intriguing passages which, to begin with, are a little meaningless but eventually they start to make sense.
Without going into too much detail so as not to spoil it for those who have not read it, events take many twists and turns and in places we have frustration, excitement and amusement. As is normally the case in this author’s novels, the ending comes fast and furious, but everything is tied up nicely without any loose ends. The final chapter is somewhat touching, and it did leave me wanting to learn more about this character that I have just spent such a long time with, but sadly I am not aware of any plans to develop this into a series which is a great shame but all good things clearly must come to an end.


Je suis un fan de Kathy Reichs et j'adore la série Temperance Brennan, mais je dois dire que la nouvelle héroïne m'a sérieusement scotché.
C'est bien écrit, avec de l'humour, du suspense et vous vous retrouvez réellement au cœur de l'histoire.
Je souhaite vraiment que ce soit pour Kathy le début d'une nouvelle série.