But some books force you to turn those pages as fast as you can.

Eleven Hours is such a book. I had my finger poised on the on the edge of each page to flip to the next in a split-second.

It's nearly midnight in mid-April. There is still ice and snow on the roads and the fields. The communications center of a small northeastern Iowa sheriff's department receives an hysterical call from a woman informing them that murders are being committed at an isolated farmhouse.

The narrator, Carl Houseman, a deputy sheriff, is the closest to the crime scene. He discovers the body of a man and his gravely injured dog. He is soon joined by another deputy. Exploring the crime scene, they are puzzled to see items that indicate strange religious practices. Not long afterwards, three more gruesomely mutilated bodies are discovered at a nearby farmhouse.

It soon becomes apparent that these crimes are linked to Satanic practices. The investigation will expand to involve the state police and a specialist from the New York Police Department. The officers uncover the horrifying details of Satan worship which seems to include ritual sacrifice of a baby. Over the course of eleven days, the quiet existence of this rural community will be disrupted as the sordid details of the lives of the residents are gradually revealed.

In the interest of full disclosure, I'll confess that I lived in eastern Iowa in my teens. But I'm sure that it's not necessary to know what detassling corn is (email me and I'll tell you) to enjoy this book. Having been there, done that, I can assure you that you're going to get a sense of small town Iowa from Eleven Days. Not every author can evoke a sense of place simultaneously with keeping the action moving at top speed.

The usual pattern of a police procedural novel is for the story to proceed from the commission of the crime through the investigation to the eventual solution. The reader learns the details of the crime along with the investigators and doesn't possess any undiscovered information. Eleven Days follows this formula. As the narrator progresses in his tale from the discovery of the crime to the climax of the book, the shocking revelation of the identity of the perpetrator, the reader is clued in with him.

The sense of being on the scene with the narrator is heightened by the day-by-day details of his life, both professional and personal. With the exception of the narrator himself, character development takes a back seat to the action. Carl is an ordinary working guy with deep ties to his community. He isn't one of those law enforcement officers who expects every day to involve life-threatening situations. Carl expects his nighttime patrols to be boring and uneventful. There's a strong sense of rural isolation as he quietly goes through his solitary routine. Even though his school-teacher wife resents the time he devotes to his job, his home life is stable. No vamp-on-the-make populates this account.

Carl is no bumbling country hick. Even though the sheriff has been reluctant to embrace the new technology, Carl has begun utilizing computerized programs on his own. The professionals from the big city don't supplant the conscientious local who knows the community and the people. Solid police work solves the crime, not blind luck or flashy footwork.

This is the first novel of author Donald Harstad, a retired Iowa county deputy sheriff. A sequel is to be published soon. This is an author to watch.

--Lesley Dunlap