Turow has always been more interested in character than in adrenaline. “Injuries” is an uneven novel, though the players are all deftly drawn. There’s Feaver, who’s astonishingly annoying at first, but ultimately a tragic figure. There are the judges he betrays, among them the warm, elderly Barnett Skolnick and the brilliant, raging Sherman Crowthers. And then there’s “Evon,” a hard-edged FBI agent assigned to follow Feaver. (Evon is a lesbian, her life undercover being Turow’s heavy-handed metaphor for life in the closet. Feaver’s just happy to meet someone with common interests: “You dig girls?”) Turow nimbly exposes everyone’s private pain and strength and folly. Still, “Injuries” is far from visceral or thrilling. The plot ignites only in the last hundred pages or so, like an airplane taking off just before it runs out of runway.