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Fourteen-year-old Tessa Ryker hears shots. Sees someone leaving her home. The sharp tang of gunpowder invades her senses as she enters the house. Before she understands what she smells or her eyes adjust from the outside brightness, she covers her mouth in horror. Her mother dead on the hallway floor. Her father dead in the living room a gun in his hand.
It looks like he killed his wife and then himself. But Tessa knows what she sees isn't true. She saw the killer. Knows who he is.
Who can she tell? Who will believe her?
Tessa Ryker’s running scared, seeking a place to hide, to disappear before the killer discovers she saw him and finds her. Now everyone’s after her: the killer, the police and Rachel Cord and her Confidential Investigations team.
About the Author
I write many types of stories but mainly gritty, hard-boiled novels about private detective Rachel Cord. She's a what-you-see-is-what-you-get woman who's not afraid to take chances or make mistakes and is willing to let the reader into her darkest moments as well as her accomplishments. It's her openness, more than anything, that makes her different from other hard-boiled characters. She holds nothing back. I've always liked PI stories. There's a crime to solve that invites reader participation. The main characters are mostly mavericks who won't be pigeonholed. The stories are usually first-person POV. What you see is what you get. It's the type I enjoy most as a reader. And Rachel plays fair with her readers--they know everything she does--letting them solve the mystery as quickly--often more quickly--as she does. I wanted a modern-day Cyrano de Bergerac to stride through Raymond Chandler's mean streets taking on any odds, yet humanly flawed and tender within. I got a lesbian James Rockford. Rachel's much like those tough independent women I enjoyed on afternoon TV: Hepburn, Dietrich, Roz Russell, Jean Arthur, Bette Davis, Joan Crawford. And also my mother who worked in a man's profession, yet kept her feminine side, and liked her humor served dry with a wry twist. My influences include J. A. Jance, Lawrence Block, John D. MacDonald, Stephen J. Cannell, Edmond Rostand, Raymond Chandler, Fritz Leiber, Keith Laumer, Aristophanes, Walt Whitman, Chekov, Kafka, Hemingway, Steinbeck...my list is endless because every author, whether I've read his or her works or not, whether I liked his or her works or not; every writer, every scribe, who ever typed, penned, incised a word, a line, are as much a part of me, my DNA, as the Conarys, Dames, Longs, Fullers, Cousins, Chiltons on back to that first amoeba that tweaked to life in the long forgotten primordial ooze.