Safecracker

by Jesse DeRoy

Overview

Notes From Your Bookseller

Can you crack the case? Dive into the criminal underbelly of Los Angeles through the eyes of a retired thief, an impossible case, and danger at every turn.

Jesse Deroy’s debut is a taut and deeply inhabited dive into the criminal netherworld that unfurls with surprising heart, wild specificity, and the tactile pleasure of an intricate well-executed plan.

Grantchester “Duke" Ducaine was born and raised a thief, so working the straight and narrow the last two years has felt like surfing without water. His dad is in the pen and his sister is . . . well, Duke doesn’t like to think about all of the things that are his fault. He’s got more pressing problems, like a bookie who wants to break his thumbs, and a couple of possibly shady Feds who want him to break into an unbreakable safe. When Duke agrees to take the job, thinking he might have the answer to his problems, he discovers that some things are best left unopened.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781454955597
Publisher:	Union Square & Co.
Publication date:	11/12/2024
Series:	A Grantchester "Duke" Ducaine Thriller Series
Pages:	416
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.10(h) x 1.10(d)

About the Author

Jesse DeRoy is a former consultant, rock-climbing instructor, and award-winning journalist. Safecracker is Jesse’s first novel. They live in New York with their family.

Read an Excerpt

EXCERPT

ONE

The first time I killed a man, I was eleven years old.
            My sister and I had been raised by a thief to be thieves ourselves. It was as if our dad won Wimbledon, and when we were born, he decided that he would mold us into the greatest tennis players of all time. Except, instead of spending our childhood with rackets in our hands, it was lockpicks and Glocks.
            And it worked.
            By the time I was eleven, I could crack safes, bypass alarms, plan a heist, shoot equally well with both hands, and hold my own in a fight against a grown man. Ginny, who was fifteen months older, could do the same, but better. She liked to make the old joke about Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, except that she mostly wore cool sneakers, and our choreographed dance routines revolved around taking expensive things from other people.
            The job we were on was a total milk run from start to finish: no guards, an outdated security system, and a safe you could have opened by breathing on it. It was really a one-person job, but part of dad’s training regime was to bring us along when he could. He had every reason to expect it would be a clean heist. The fixer was an old friend who was in a bind, and even though dad hadn’t seen him in probably two decades, they’d been close once. Dad thought he could trust him.             He was wrong.