Kindle Edition
Lost in America
Lost in America
Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
A top notch private eye, Lovelace Miller, is hired by a college friend, a Chicago congressman, to locate his wayward troubled daughter, who is running with her drug dealing boyfriend. Even before a shootout that occurs as a result of drug deal gone bad, Miller knows Laura St. John is in over her head, and he has to rescue her before it's too late.
Lovelace Miller is a high end internationally known private investigator. Bi-racial, he had self identity issues growing up. Miller has learned to use his racial ambiguity to his advantage by becoming a master of disguise.
Miller takes on a case out of his usual realm. A college buddy, now a Chicago congressman, hires him to locate his drug addicted runaway daughter, Laura, who like Miller, is dealing with racial identity issues.
Miller learns that Laura is traveling with her drug dealing pornographer boyfriend and his demented Gulf War vet partner. Miller soon discovers Laura is in more danger that she realizes. He knows he has to embark on a cross country chase to rescue her in time.
Lost in America is a mix of a tough, hard-edged crime story, and a literary novel dealing with racial identity, ethics, and a warped vision of achieving the American Dream.
Excerpt
From the stall with the urine spill came a short black man dressed in dark blue. He had been seated with his feet atop the toilet. He drew an Uzi and fired three bursts into Crane’s back. Crane was propelled forward, blood gushing from his mouth. By the time he hit the floor he was dead and gone.
As soon as the assassin popped from the door J.J had ducked backwards and positioned himself under the wash basins, drawing his 9MM in the same motion. In a hurried aim that worked out, he fired a shot at the assassin. The assassin was hit in the right leg two inches below his knee. The impact of the bullet sent him tumbling forward, momentarily losing possession of the Uzi.
Rip couldn’t draw his .32 smoothly. He pulled it and squeezed off a hurried shot that blew a chunk out of one of the wash basins. He never got off a second shot.
J.J was able to get a good bead on Rip. The result was a pair of bullets landing within a inch of each other. The target was Rip’s stomach. His white hockey jersey was turned crimson by blood stains as he tumbled backwards to his death.
The assassin had the intention of firing a burst from his Uzi in J.J’s direction. But J.J acted a split second ahead of him. Two slugs hit the assassin directly between the eyes almost in the same exact spot. His body was twisted about. His leg twitched twice before he died.
J.J rose to his feet. In the aftermath of the carnage there was a moment of quiet calm.
J.J’s words came out in a whisper. “Goddamn. Rip tried to rip me.”
A second later he was racing toward the exit as quickly as possible.
When she heard the first bursts of gun fire Laura felt compelled to get up and move to the end of the aisle toward the walk way.
Miller suddenly found himself somewhat hemmed in. The crowd had reacted to the shots by standing, turning about, and looking in the direction of the noise. He couldn’t move to the left or right or straight behind him. But there was a lane for him to go down a couple rows and then slide to the end of the aisle.
Laura came within five feet of the bathroom door as J.J came running out, his gun still in his hand.
“Thank God you’re all right.”
“Let’s haul ass outta here.”
There were two lines of customers at the nearby concession stand.
“Get the fuck out the way!” J.J shouted.
Before people could react J.J grabbed Laura by the hand, pulling her along with him. They crashed through a teenage girl and a boy of ten. The folks in the second line scattered as J.J and Laura approached them. A chubby Mexican woman took notice of J.J’s weapons and shouted:
“He’s got a gun! He’s got a gun! He got a gun!”
A security guard in the vicinity spoke into his walkie talkie and then tried to catch up to the situation.
Miller found himself caught in a log jam trying to make it all the way up the aisle. He pulled out his law enforcement ID and said:
“Off duty cop. Please let me through. Off duty police!”
Enough people cleared the way, enabling him to push his way clear. Once he hit the walk way he took off quickly trying to make up ground, veering to the left and right looking for a path of daylight the way a football running back would. Miller drew his pistol. A teenage girl in his path stopped in her tracks and cried:
“Oh my God! A gun! A gun!”
Miller kept moving. He got to the intersecting gateway out of the stadium just in time to see J.J and Laura ten feet down the line. He raised his gun with the idea of firing low and taking J.J off his feet. But a couple people apparently oblivious to the situation screened out the brief angle he had.
However, a clear lane opened up and Miller ran toward the fleeing couple. Miller watched a female security guard attempt to block J.J’s escape. J.J let loose of Laura’s hand and she veered off to the right.
Miller thought he had his chance for a clear view of his target. But J.J grabbed hold of the guard and twisted her all the way around. And once again his line of fire had been blocked.
J.J seemed to trip over his own feet and tumble forward. He was about to land on his face, but at the last minute he got his free hand down in time to break his fall and regain his balance.
Laura and J.J made it outside the gates, raced through the court, and veered toward the parking lot.
Miller made it to the court thinking he would now have a chance to catch up, and if it came to that, he could win out in an gun battle with J.J.
In the next instant he heard people shouting behind him.
“Stop or I’ll shoot!”
“Drop the gun right now!”
Miller assumed the people yelling at him were security guards. Since he wasn’t sure how many were behind him, he decided it wasn’t a good idea to whirl about and mount a challenge. So he stopped in his tracks and raised both hands high in the air. He let the automatic slide down his finger and hit the concrete with a thud.
“Turn around slow and get down on your knees.”
“I’m in law enforcement. Let me show my ID.”
“Hit the ground first.”
Miller saw J.J get to his Mustang with Laura, get inside, and back up in a rush.
“I can’t do this. The shooter will get away.”
Miller started moving in the direction of the parked cars. He didn’t dare risk regaining possession of his gun.
“Stop. Or I’ll shoot.”
“Hold off.”
Miller ran toward the lane between two rows of parked cars. As the Mustang approaching him slowly picked up speed, he could only think of one move to make. At the right moment he pivoted, reached out and grabbed the front door handle with his left hand. He was hoping Laura would give him some help by opening the door on the passenger side so he could pull her from the car. Instead she sat still with a distressed expression on her face.
The car was increasing its speed. Miller had to let go to avoid having his arm yanked from its socket or worst. This left him hurling forward at a low angle heading right for the cement base to a light pole. He tried to shift his body but it was too late. He felt the initial impact, and then everything went black.
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