The deadliest weapons are the ones we never see.
DIGITAL VELOCITY
McAllister Justice #1
Reily Garrett
Releasing July 10, 2017
The deadliest weapons are the ones we never see.
Keyboard prodigy, Lexi Donovan has risen from teenage orphan
of the streets to complete independence with little help along the way. When a
pervert threatens her friend, she sends an anonymous message to police, leading
to a firefight that leaves a cop wounded.
Detective Ethan McAllister’s well-ordered life turned upside
down the day an obscure text message led to a sexual predator’s identity and
arrest. Since then, Callouston PD’s finest can’t trace the elusive hacker. The
latest tip leads him to a brutal mutilation and a riddle indicating the identity of the next murder
victim.
The dark net houses a playground for the morally depleted
and criminally insane. When Lexi discovers the killer’s digital betting arena,
she finds herself centered in a cyber stalker’s crosshairs, a psychopath
bearing equal talent.
Street life strengthened Lexi while toughening her
protective shell, but nothing could shield her from the shrewd detective
forging a path to her heart.
Excerpt
I move frequently—but gain no
distance.
I am warm, moist, and dark but give
no comfort.
I can stretch and shrink, giving or
taking at will, bringing both pain and pleasure with each.
“If God wanted you to tie the knot, he’d give you a
near-death experience to better appreciate life, along with a craving for
procreation. Then he’d smother your soul with the essence of venison, squirrel,
frog legs, taters, or beer, to attract a likely counterpart from the sticks.
No, wait. The latter has already happened, hasn’t it? Sorry.” Ethan narrowly
kept his balance on the green-slicked, handmade bricks leading up the two-story,
mauve-colored Victorian. If his 210-pound mass ended up sprawled on the steps,
no doubt the picture would be splashed all over the precinct by noon with
various unsavory captions.
“Maybe
you should try it. The stick up your ass has to cause at least minor
discomfort.” Larrick’s early-morning snark was a common greeting.
“Hey,
I’m a normal guy.” Ethan glared over
his shoulder.
Larrick
snorted.
“Still
wet from our early-morning storm. Watch your step, it’s slippery.” Scanning the
myriad amorphous shadows lurking in the wood line, realization struck that he
and his partner were sitting ducks if a sniper perched among the loblolly pine
and oak trees lining the front and side yards.
Larrick’s
reply came in equal measure of soft tones. “Either that or a large flock of
birds dropped in recently to help her redecorate. Great detective work.”
“Bird droppings are—”
“Sought after for facials. Especially the Japanese
Nightingale shit.” Larrick grinned.
“Only
you would know that.” Ethan adjusted his tie, an acknowledgment of the
apprehension filling his mind.
“Are we whispering because your paranoid gut
can’t assimilate food well enough to distinguish indigestion from an outside
threat? This woman lives alone, gonna think we’re a couple of perverts and
liable to shoot us.”
“Word
has it she’s a pacifist.”
“Fine.
You’re one to talk about signs—dragging my ass to a stranger’s house at this
ungodly morning hour. I love knocking on a stranger’s door and asking, ‘Lady,
are you all right? We’re police detectives who received an anonymous tip that
you might have a hangnail. Perhaps we could lend you a pair of nail clippers…’
then ask if she needs the gutters cleaned.” Derision and humor warred for
dominance in Larrick’s tone, yet his sharp gaze continually scanned the perimeter
in consideration of his partner’s unarticulated hunch. Yin and yang, they fit
together, a clean-cut detective and his partner whose hair length had passed
regulation specs weeks ago.
“You know this
isn’t the first tip we’ve gotten, not to mention the fact that the other leads
were solid and led to arrests. And while we’re at it, why don’t you step to the
side? Standard police procedure when approaching an unknown situation.” Ethan
turned sideways, standing by the door with his hand poised to knock on the
solid oak. He hesitated. Moisture coated his palms, a rare occurrence.
Scrutinizing the interior through the narrow sidelights yielded nothing more
than expected. Elegantly upholstered furniture, gleaming hardwood floors, and
delicate bric-a-brac adorning the thick mantle and each side table completed
the sophisticated picture. “Don’t see any problem. Maybe she’s fallen and can’t
get to a phone.”
“You expected an old lady brandishing her curling iron?
As for leads, I get mine from
three-dimensional people while you get yours from a bunch of ones and zeroes.
Why can’t our IT department trace your anonymous texts further than the loony
bin? Though that’s probably appropriate since your secret admirer’s last
present consisted of a flower basket bigger than my TV along with fur-lined
cuffs. I’ve never laughed so hard I pissed myself. I thought that was hogwash,
a myth made up by old ladies.” Larrick leaned over the iron railing to peer
through the window. “Can’t see squat, bottom sill’s too high.”
“As
my partner, you’re supposed to have my back, not stab me in the back. You
didn’t have to broadcast it through the whole department by hanging the cuffs
from the sprinkler system with a bunch of roses twined in them. Now my brothers
won’t let up, and I’ve been subscribed to every kinky magazine known to the
publishing world. You think I should
know why some whacko chose me for their personal marionette?” Ethan suppressed a shudder before his partner gained
more verbal ammunition. If his suspicions were correct, his informant was in
fact a beautiful enigma with waist-length, chestnut hair and an emerald gaze
capable of melting steel.
“Maybe
because you were the youngest to make detective? Rising star, golden boy, and
all that shit.”
“No. Probably afraid your redneck ways would rub off on
them, or maybe because I’m the biggest sap.” Ethan’s gut rumbled, more of a
warning sign from a well-heeled intuition than hunger. “Larrick, this doesn’t
feel right.” Behind him, the slide of metal on leather let him know his partner
just palmed his Glock. Three years of working together circumvented the
formality of dissecting gut reactions.
A creak of leather sole betrayed Larrick’s backtracking
to scrutinize the surroundings. “Side windows are lower. I’ll take a look.”
“Hood
of her BMW is cold. Didn’t go anywhere recently.” Larrick’s harsh whisper
halted a nearby squirrel scampering up a tree, its head cocked to one side
while studying the strange human interlopers.
Sunshine
warmed the first spring buds on the low shrubbery bordering the walkway to
complete the idyllic setting. Nothing but peace and serenity, yet Ethan’s heart
hammered against his ribcage like an aggressive punk drummer. With his partner
disappearing around the corner, he again scanned the perimeter while the morning’s
corrupted equanimity formed a sour wad in his chest. A lazy March breeze combed
its cool fingers through his short hair while the deep foreboding received with
the initial text message blossomed into multiple horrific scenarios, leaving
one of them a corpse, their life’s essence forming macabre shapes on gleaming
hardwood floors.
“I
see bare feet beyond the kitchen island. Toes
up. Probably female.” Larrick’s disembodied whisper just provided probable
cause. “Backup?”
“Digital
Velocity is a fast-paced
romantic suspense thriller that sophisticatedly weaves drama, excitement,
grit, raw emotions and mystery. Garrett takes her readers on a journey
where suspense and romance are taken up several notches as she unfolds and
reveals the identity of a murderer that is on the loose. With her vivid prose,
Garrett entices readers to see the bond that is brewing between Detective
Ethan McAllister and his unlikely informant.” - RT
Book Reviews
Reily is a
West Coast girl transplanted to the opposite shore. When she’s not working with
her dogs, you can find her curled up with a book or writing her next story.
Past employment as an ICU nurse, private investigator, and work in the military
police has given her countless experiences in a host of different environments
to add a real world feel to her fiction.
Over time,
and several careers, many incidents have flavored the plots of her stories.
Man’s cruelty and ingenuity for torment and torture is boundless, not contained
by an infinite imagination. Witnessing the after-effects of a teenager mugged
at knifepoint for a pair of tennis shoes, or an elderly woman stabbed
repeatedly with a screwdriver for no apparent reason, left an indelible
impression that will forever haunt her subconscious. In counterpoint, she has
observed a woman stop her vehicle in severe, snowy weather to offer her own
winter coat to a stranger, a teenager wearing a threadbare hoodie. Life’s
diversities are endless.
Though her
kids are her life, writing is Reily’s life after. The one enjoyed after the
kids are in bed or after they’re in school and the house is quiet. This is the
time she kicks back with laptop and lapdog to give her imagination free rein.
In reading,
take pleasure in a mental pause as you root for your favorite hero/heroine and
bask in their accomplishments, then share your opinions of them over a coffee
with your best friend (even if he’s four-legged). Life is short. Cherish your
time.
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