A racially charged shooting
A twenty year-old mystery
A cop with the gift of sight
Trick Dunn and his six year-old daughter just moved into their dream home, but the model street cop is haunted by the events of the night he was forced to shoot a young black man. As he struggles through the fallout and politics of the incident, Trick begins to uncover the dark history of his new home. Twenty years ago a woman's brutal murder sent a man to jail, but was he the right man? Trick secretly reopens the case and finds himself in a delicate balance as the people who hold the key to his future on the job may be the same ones who don't want the skeletons of the past exhumed. A newly emerging ability to see a crime through psychic eyes and the appearance of an eerie specter stalking Trick and his daughter will either help him solve the murder or send him over the edge into madness.
He had been driving around for hours, trying to find a way to vent the frustration that was welling inside his belly. The muscles in his jaw ached from the scowl he wore as he clenched his teeth tightly. There were urges to quell, needs to fulfill, and his faith in himself was beginning to falter with each misstep that had plagued him the last couple days.
The blonde man pulled his truck over in a parking lot that was vacant but for himself and a handful of other cars cast across the asphalt like a handful of jacks. He cut the engine, tipped his head back, and rested it on the back of the seat, closing his eyes and willing himself to relax. But the images that haunted him in his sleep, also seemed to rise up every so often to stalk him behind his closed eyelids even when he was fully and unmistakably awake. The stress was beginning to seep in, overpowering his will. He would have to vent soon, or he might be compelled into an act of blind rage, the consequences for which he would not be responsible, but nonetheless accountable. Blind fury is both cathartic and messy, and messy is hard to cover.
The sunset was a distant memory and the man was beginning to feel the tug of sleep, beckoning him to rest his weary head for the night. Although beset with fatigue, he knew sleep would be fleeting if he could not find a way to ease his troubled mind and clear away the fog that clouded his brain. There was penance to pay. And miles to go before I sleep, he thought.