Genre: Adult Thriller
Word count: 90,000
With the body count climbing the more he probes, homicide detective Jack Easley’s latest case points to his own family—the one that still tells him his sister’s death was a cut-and-dried suicide.
I leaned against the Plexiglas divider of our lane, watching Abby empty magazines with no fear.
She knew exactly how to turn me on.
The safety glasses kept slipping, the earmuffs dwarfing her head, but the confidence fit like a glove; whenever a spent mag hit the floor, she’d already clicked a new one in, racked and fired.
Here, she couldn’t falter, and I liked that, but being here also did for her what the meds couldn’t, and I liked that more.
My Glock therapy was promising.
All her shots center mass, I gave her a thumbs-up. She rolled her eyes, changing the targets and giving my shoulder a sympathetic pat before I took my place on the line.
I was halfway through the set when my phone vibrated against my hip. I holstered on instinct, picking up as I shouldered my way through the door, my partner’s number on the screen. The brass bell went off behind me, then again as Abby followed.
“Nick,” I said, crossing the lot to my unmarked, pulling at my earplugs. “What’s up?”
“–one hot off the presses,” I heard. “Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Where’s it at?”
“It’s on Hawkins, in the Silver Terrace development.”
“I’ll be there,” I said, Abby watching me over the hood as I hung up.
She squinted in the sun. “You’re leaving.”
Seeing me fish the duty ammo from my pocket was more than enough confirmation.
Therapy was over.