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Amber Quill Press
Amber Quill Press
Amazon
Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: Amber Quill Press
ISBN-10: 1611247934
Type: Fiction
Pages: 248
Copyright: Dec 29, 2014
ISBN-13: 9781611247114
Price: $6.29 (eBook)
Fear is the fresh catch of the day and it’s served ice cold for one Louisiana sheriff whose men are targeted by a killer sniper.
What happens when those sworn to protect are attacked and need protection themselves?
When a high-ranking cop is gunned down by a sniper, Louisiana Sheriff Calvin Burke puts London Carter and Bethany Riggs on the case. London and Bethany quickly uncover information involving a sex triangle within the sheriff’s office and they subsequently arrest police sniper Kenneth Lewis for the killing.
When Kenneth commits suicide in police custody and another high-ranking cop is killed two days later, however, London and Bethany realize the case is far from closed. Things are further complicated when they locate a mysterious message at two of the crime scenes—the words “James 516.”
Immense pressure is put on London and Bethany to solve the case. As they scramble to track down the killer, that pressure turns to heat, and they find themselves falling for each other even as they attempt to decipher the meaning of the message “James 516” before the murderer takes out the sheriff’s entire staff.
Excerpt
...I kept my crosshairs focused on the front door to the bank. The minutes ticked by like hours. The sun had slid low to the west and long shadows stretched across the southeastern side of the parking lot, but it did little to stifle the heat.
“It’s here,” Jerry finally said.
I moved my rifle slightly to the right and saw a white SUV with dark tinted windows pull into the parking lot behind Betty Jo’s. Captain Landry walked over and spoke with the driver, a young patrol officer. After a brief moment, Captain Landry walked toward the eastern side of Betty Jo’s and stood behind a patrol car where he could watch the exchange. The patrol deputy drove the SUV around Betty Jo’s and parked it directly in front of the bank, about twenty feet from the front door, with the passenger’s side positioned toward the door. He then rolled out of the driver’s seat and made a run for one of the patrol cars parked nearby. When he reached it, he squatted beside a SWAT officer who had been there all afternoon.
I saw Captain Landry lift his radio to his mouth and his voice boomed beside me. “All units…pull your vehicles out of the parking lot, ASAP.”
The area suddenly came to life as officers scrambled into the cruisers stationed around the bank. They sped away, some pulling back as far as Food-N-Stuff and some driving around to Bestman’s Market. Just as the bank parking lot cleared out, I detected movement from inside the bank. “Jerry, you catching this?”
“Yeah, is that…”
“It sure the fuck is!” From the number of legs moving, it looked like three people were walking toward the door. A large curtain was draped over their bodies. My heart began to thump in my chest. If they made it to the SUV and sped off, the hostages were as good as dead. I quickly surveyed their feet. The last person in line wore faded jeans and boots. The others wore slacks and dress shoes.
“The suspect’s at the back of the line,” Jerry said.
“Unless they changed clothes,” I warned. “I can’t take the shot unless I know for sure.” They continued to walk, bumping into each other as they moved.
“They’re almost to the car…you’ve got to do something!” Jerry called, his voice tense.
I didn’t answer. As the curtain jostled with their movements, I strained to see beneath it. Nothing.
“Sierra One, they’re almost out of runway. Take the shot,” said a nervous Captain Landry.
I centered the crosshairs over the head at the back of the line, then hesitated. I couldn’t shoot what I couldn’t identify…period. I glanced back to their legs, hoping for some hint of verification. Still nothing.
Just as they reached the SUV, the person in the front jerked the curtain up and bolted from the group. In that split second, I saw that the person in the middle was a white male with blond hair and a tattoo on his neck, and his gun hand was starting to rise. The very instant my crosshairs touched the center of the suspect’s right ear canal, my rifle bucked against my shoulder. The explosion made my ears ring.
By habit born of a million repetitions, I automatically bolted another round and prepared for a follow-up shot. Almost immediately I heard the boom from a flash-bang and a faint pop from somewhere near the bank. The two bank employees, one a woman and the other a man, were screaming as the entry team forced them to the ground and secured them. The suspect lay in a bloody heap where he had fallen, unaware that he had even died.
The police radio suddenly erupted in confusion. Amidst a dozen voices trying to talk over each other, one frantic voice dominated. “Shots fired! Officer down! Officer down!”
“Who the fuck fired that shot?” someone else bellowed over the radio. “Damn it, who the fuck fired that shot?”
I jerked my scope to the bank. Are there two gunmen? Who is down?
I searched frantically, but saw no other movement from inside. Several of the SWAT officers tore from the group in front of the bank and ran south toward Betty Jo’s. They were yelling something I couldn’t hear. I swerved my rifle in that direction, but before I could see what was going on, I heard Jerry gasp beside me.
“Oh, fuck! They…they got him! They got Captain Landry!...”
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