One hesitates to give too much detail of the plot in a review of a thriller, but a swift peer at the jacket will tell you that Paul and Carol Gabriel's son has disappeared. We know pretty soon that this is not going to be a happy story and the opening chapters take us into the world of private grief and public service indifference. Enter (to our great relief) a latter-day Philip Marlowe, with more than a little of Moose Mulloy; a private dick determined to find out what has happened for reasons of his own.
What follows is a nicely argued plot, which unravels most satisfactorily, surviving even the unlikely move of the victim's father riding shotgun with the detective. The author thanks a number of law-enforcement operatives for taking him through the methodology, and the result is a good whodunit that follows a twisted (in all senses) route to the source. The hunters do not escape completely unhurt, but then Marlowe was always getting sapped, though they do use up a generous part of their feline nine lives.
I read it in one session, you may find yourself doing the same.