The first explosive thriller featuring Peter Ash, a veteran who finds that the demons of war aren’t easily left behind...
“Lots of characters get compared to my own Jack Reacher, but Petrie’s Peter Ash is the real deal.”—Lee Child
Peter Ash came home from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan with only one souvenir: what he calls his “white static,” the buzzing claustrophobia due to post-traumatic stress that has driven him to spend a year roaming in nature, sleeping under the stars.
But when a friend from the Marines commits suicide, Ash returns to civilization to help the man’s widow with some home repairs. Under her dilapidated porch, he finds more than he bargained for: the largest, ugliest, meanest dog he’s ever encountered...and a Samsonite suitcase stuffed with cash and explosives.
As Ash begins to investigate this unexpected discovery, he finds himself at the center of a plot that is far larger than he could have imagined...and it may lead straight back to the world he thought he’d left for good.
About the Author
Nicholas Petrie received his MFA in fiction from the University of Washington, won a Hopwood Award for short fiction while an undergraduate at the University of Michigan, and his story “At the Laundromat” won the 2006 Short Story Contest in the The Seattle Review, a national literary journal. A husband and father, he runs a home-inspection business in Milwaukee. The Drifter is his first novel.
Read an Excerpt
There was a pit bull under the front porch and it didn’t want to come out.
Young Charlie Johnson said, “That dang dog’s been there for weeks, sir. It already ate up all the cats and dogs around here. I can’t even let my dang little brother out the front door no more.”
The hundred-year-old house sat on a narrow lot on the edge of a battered Milwaukee neighborhood that, like the house, had seen better days. It was early November, not warm, not even by Wisconsin standards. The leaves had already fallen from the skeletal trees that towered overhead.
But the sun was out, which counted for something. And the sky was a high, pale morning blue. Not a morning for static. Not at all.
Peter Ash said, “Just how big is this dog?”
Charlie shook his head. “Never seen it up close, sir, and never in daylight. But it’s awfully dang big, I can tell you that.”
“Didn’t you call animal control?”
“Oh, my mama called,” said Charlie. “Two men came, took one look under there, got right back in their truck and drove away.”
Charlie wore a school uniform, a light-blue permanent-press dress shirt, dark-blue polyester dress pants, and giant polished black shoes on his oversized feet. He was the kind of skinny, big-eared, twelve-year-old kid who could eat six meals a day and still be hungry.
But his eyes were older than his years. They didn’t miss a thing.
He was watching Peter Ash now.
Peter sat on the closed lid of a wooden toolbox, his wide, knuckly hands on the work-worn knees of his carpenter’s jeans, peering through the narrow access hatch cut into the rotted pine slats enclosing the space under the porch. He had to admit the dog sounded big. He could hear it growling back there in the darkness. Like a tank engine on idle, only louder.
He had a .45 under the seat of his pickup, but he didn’t want to use it. It wasn’t the dog’s fault, not really. It was hungry and scared and alone, and all it had was its teeth.
On the other hand, Peter had told Charlie’s mother, Dinah, that he would fix the rotting supports beneath her ancient porch.
She hadn’t mentioned the dog.
Peter really couldn’t blame her.
Her husband had killed himself.
And it was Peter’s fault.
Peter was lean and rangy, muscle and bone, nothing extra. His long face was angular, the tips of his ears slightly pointed, his dark hair the unruly shag of a buzz cut grown wild. He had the thoughtful eyes of a werewolf a week before the change.
Some part of him was always in motion—even now, sitting on that toolbox, peering under that porch, his knee bobbed in time to some interior metronome that never ceased.
He’d fought two wars over eight years, with more deployments than he cared to remember. The tip of the spear. He’d be thirty-one in January.
As he bent to look through the narrow access hatch under the porch, he could feel the white static fizz and pop at the base of his skull. That was his name for the fine-grained sensation he lived with now, the white static. A vague crackling unease, a dissonant noise at the edge of hearing. It wasn’t quite uncomfortable, not yet. The static was just reminding him that it didn’t want him to go inside.
Peter knew it would get worse before he was done.
So he might as well get to it.
The space under the porch was about three feet high. Maybe twelve feet wide and twelve deep, with a dirt floor. About the size of four freshly dug graves, laid sideways. The smell was rank, worse than a sergeant’s feet after two months in a combat outpost. But not as bad as a two-week-old corpse.
Light trickled in through the slatted sides of the porch, but shadows shrouded the far corner, some kind of cast-off crap back there. And that growl he could just about feel through the soles of his boots.
It would be good to do this without being chewed on too much.
He went out to his truck and found a cordless trouble light, some good rope, and a length of old handrail. White oak, an inch and three-quarters thick, maybe eighteen inches long. Nice and solid in the hand. Which was a help when you were contemplating something spectacularly stupid.
Serenaded by the growls from the crawl space, he sat down on the toolbox and took out his knife while young Charlie Johnson watched.
Not that Peter wanted an audience. This certainly could get ugly.
“Don’t you have someplace to go, Charlie? School or something?”
Charlie glanced at a cheap black digital watch strapped to his skinny wrist. “No, sir,” he said. “Not yet I don’t.”
Peter just shook his head. He didn’t like it, but he understood. He figured he wasn’t that far from twelve years old himself.
He cut three short lengths from his rope and left the remainder long, ten or twelve feet. Tied one end of a short piece of rope tight to each end of the oak rail. Looped the last short rope and the remainder through his belt a single time, so he could get at it quickly.
Then he looked up at Charlie again. “You better get out of here, kid. If this goes bad, you don’t want to be around.”
Charlie said, “I’m not a dang kid. Sir. I’m the man of the family.” He reached inside the door, brought out an aluminum baseball bat, and demonstrated his swing. “That’s my dang porch. My little brother, too. I ain’t going nowhere.”
Charlie’s dad always had the same look behind the Humvee’s .50 turret gun. Eyes wide open and ready for trouble. Daring any motherfucker to pop up with an RPG or Kalashnikov or whatever. But when his wife, Dinah, sent cookies, Big Jimmy Johnson—known inevitably to the platoon’s jokers as Big Johnson, or just plain Big—was always the last to eat one.
Peter missed him.
He missed them all. The dead and the living.
He said, “Okay, Charlie. I can respect that.” He put his eyes on the boy and held them there. “But if that dog gets loose you get your butt in that house, you hear me? And if you hit me with that bat I’m going to be seriously pissed.”
“Yessir.” Charlie nodded. “Can’t promise anything, sir. But I’ll do my best.”
Peter smiled to himself. At least the kid was honest.
After that there was nothing more to do but lean back and kick out the slats on one side of the porch, letting in more daylight. The space was still small. The tank engine in the shadows got louder. But no sign of the dog. Must be lurking in that trash pile in the far corner.
Not that it mattered. He wasn’t turning away from the challenge. He was just planning how to succeed.
The familiar taste filled his mouth, a coppery flavor, like blood. He felt the adrenaline lift and carry him forward. It was similar to the static, rising. The body’s preparation for fight or flight. It was useful.
He peered under the porch, and the static rose higher still. The static didn’t care about the snarling dog. It cared about the enclosure. It jangled his nerves, raced his heart, tightened his chest, and generally clamored for his attention. It wanted him to stay outside in the open air, in the daylight.
Breathing deeply, Peter took the piece of oak and banged it on the wood frame of the porch. It rang like a primitive musical instrument.
Despite everything, he was smiling.
“Hey, dog,” he called into the darkness. “Watch your ass, I’m coming in!”
And in he went, headfirst on his elbows and knees, the stick in one hand and the trouble light in the other.
What, you want to live forever?
Reading Group Guide
1. What is the significance of the title?
2. In the first chapter, Peter Ash reflects with guilt on the ostensible suicide of his friend Jimmy, believing it was somehow his fault. Why does Peter feel this way? What does this suggest about Peter’s character and about his relationship with Jimmy?
3. Many of the characters in the novel suffer from war injuries that are “not visible to the eye.” Which characters are impacted in this way? How does each character learn to cope (or not) with his unique symptoms?
4. What do you think of the character Lewis? Did your opinion of him change over the course of the novel?
5. The dog, Mingus, is a character unto himself. What does he bring to the story?
6. The lives of returning veterans are a central concern of the novel. What does the story illustrate about the problems veterans face as they integrate back into civilian life? How do the different characters exemplify these issues?
7. In addition to the struggles faced by veterans, the novel also touches on the strain placed on the families of active military and veterans. What difficulties did Dinah and her sons face as a military family?
8. Several of the characters seem to fall into a moral gray area, neither heroic nor exactly villains. How did the author create these subtleties? Which characters did you find sympathetic despite their actions, and why?
9. How did the Milwaukee setting shape the story?
10. Did you anticipate the twist involving Lipsky and Skinner? What clues pointed to this ending?
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
According to the quotation by W. C. Fields, you should never work with kids and animals, probably something to do with the uncontrollable nature of both...and that they steal the limelight almost every time. That Peter Ash, former Marine Lt. who served both in Iraq and Afghanistan, manages to keep the reader's attention with 2 kids and a butt ugly dog sharing the pages shows you what a great addition he is to action suspense. Peter didn't bring much back from the war other than memories of his men, dead and alive, and a case of PTSD induced claustrophobia that manifests as"white noise" in his head when he's inside too long. That internal static has kept him moving around since he got home and was one of the reasons he didn't check in with one of his old friends. When he hears of his suicide, he makes it a point to help out the widow and 2 sons of his old friend by doing some repairs to her home. When he finds an old suitcase full of money and C4 - and a vagrant eating dog - under the porch he's repairing, he begins to wonder what his buddy's own form of PTSD got him into. His investigation leads him to another former soldier with ties to his buddy and whose own questionable activities still don't take away from his personal sense of honor. The team up is believable and a pretty dangerous duo going up against some people who are angry enough at the government to plan the unthinkable...and maybe some other veterans who lost their way on the way home. Fighting over there to protect the kids and animals you left back home can take a terrible toll, and some people never completely make it back. Nick Petrie has added an awesome new character to the action suspense genre. Peter doesn't look much like the over the top action heroes of film, but that makes him all the more believable and much more quietly dangerous. I actually read the sequel, Burning Bright, first so it was nice to see how Lewis and he met. I can't help but hope there are a lot more adventures - and healing - left for both of them in more books to come.
Although not as fast paced as a Vince Flynn or Clancy, this book was very good in developing the story slowly. I loved that it was realistic and relevant to current time.
Peter Ash has the right mixture of toughness and humility. He is loyal to his friends and doesn't shy away from doing the right thing even if he has to crack a few skulls along the way. I enjoyed the way Lewis and Middle developed . But I must admit Mingus stole the show.
An excellent first novel. I'd love to see Peter and Lewis as the next Spenser and Hawk, Mingus included of course.
Awesome Read. I was a First Read Winner of this book, and boy what a thrilling read. It had me at the edge of my seat especially toward the end and I could not wait to find out how it would all end. I liked the complex and scarred characters and I hope that there will be many more books with Peter Ash as our hero, it had plenty of action and suspense, and it also shed some much needed light onto PTSD. I can't wait to see what will come next, Nicholas Petrie has a new fan in me, very entertaining read for sure.
This book tackles a issue that all currently face or are dealing with. PTSD is real and this bill takes it head on! You feel after reading this work that you have a bit of a understanding of what veterans go through Its a page turner!
I enjoyed this one a lot. I love a good mystery with a lot of action and The Drifter definitely qualifies on both counts. This book has that something extra that I am always looking for in a book. The characters in this book really make it come alive. I found that the time I spent reading this book went very quickly because I was so engrossed in the story. This was exactly the kind of book that I love to read. Peter is veteran and is finding adjustment to civilian life to be a challenge. He is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder which seems to manifest as extreme claustrophobia anytime he finds himself indoors. When he finds out about the death of his Marine friend, he comes to help out his wife in any way he can. He starts out by doing a few home repairs but he soon finds something under the porch that changes everything. I thought that the best thing about this book was the characters without a doubt. Peter's character was written in a way that showed both his strengths and his weaknesses. I had a lot of respect for Peter during the course of this story. After everything he has been through, he is still fights for what is right. Dinah has also been through a lot in dealing with her husband's death after his return from serving overseas. She is kind, responsible, and tough when she needed to be. Lewis really grew on me as the story progressed and I absolutely loved him by the end of the book. Mingus was an awesome character. This dog brought a lot more to the story than I could have ever guessed. I really enjoyed the way that this book was written. It started out with a lot of excitement and even a bit of humor and it never dragged. The story unfolded bit by bit with the mystery slowly unraveling. I couldn't make any kind of guess as to where everything was going until it happened. There was a lot of action and the book kept a rather high level of excitement with excellent pacing. I liked the fact that we saw quick glimpses from the point of view of the bad guys in the story but not enough to give any of the plot away. I would highly recommend this book to fans of mystery thrillers. I am actually quite surprised to learn that this book is Nicholas Petrie's debut novel. I am looking forward to reading future works from this very talented author. I received an advance reader edition of this book from Penguin Group - Putnam G.P. Putnam's Sons via NetGalley for the purpose of providing an honest review.