By Iris Johansen
The number 1 New York Times bestselling writer Iris Johansen returns with an electrifying and all-too-plausible mystery that pushes the extent of suspense to the utmost and not we could up. From the stressful establishing scene to the ultimate explosive web page, Johansen provides a knockout novel, as an not going pair of allies needs to divulge a group of killers hiding at the back of an unspeakable act of terror—and hazard finishing up their subsequent target.
She witnesses demise throughout the eye of her digicam. Now a constant killer is concentrated on her. A celebrated photojournalist, Alex Graham has visible it all—but her most modern project has pressured her throughout a deadly line. What occurs while a reporter does greater than simply file? She has recorded probably the most tragic and heartbreaking of catastrophes, every thing from typical failures to notorious acts of terror. Her reports have left her eternally marked with the human aspect of tragedy. So whilst a dam breaks in Arapahoe Junction, Colorado, Alex is once again on the web site doing greater than simply snapping pictures—she is within the dust with a shovel digging for survivors.
What occurs whilst the reporter turns into the tale? Alex reveals greater than she bargained for. in a single bad immediate, she is witness to a conspiracy that might stun a kingdom. The reputable tale is simply a cover-up for a fact so scary, so unthinkable, somebody who threatens to bare it has to be silenced. ceaselessly. And now that somebody is Alex Graham.
The first try on her existence is speedy and brutal. in simple terms slightly escaping, she unearths an best friend in an unbelievable resource. Billionaire financier John Logan has his personal purposes for shielding Alex, and those purposes on my own are inclined to get her killed. utilizing his enormous connections and affects, Logan assigns a bodyguard to guard her. Judd Morgan is the simplest covert commando within the enterprise, and if someone can preserve Alex secure, it’s this quietly risky guy. the matter is, Alex doesn’t are looking to be saved secure through Judd, whose checkered prior has made him the objective of an unseen murderer who canines his each step.
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Dead Aim (Eve Duncan, Book 4.5)
The number 1 big apple instances bestselling writer Iris Johansen returns with an electrifying and all-too-plausible mystery that pushes the extent of suspense to the utmost and not we could up. From the annoying starting scene to the ultimate explosive web page, Johansen supplies a knockout novel, as an not going pair of allies needs to reveal a staff of killers hiding at the back of an unspeakable act of terror—and hazard finishing up their subsequent goal.
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Extra resources for Dead Aim (Eve Duncan, Book 4.5)
Sample text
C’mon,” I said, leading him into my office suite, otherwise known as my dining room. “Have a seat,” I said, gesturing to the dining table. Howard started for a chair, and I screeched in dismay. “Hey! ” I scooped my cat Prozac off the chair Howard was about to sit in and tossed her in the kitchen. She glared at me balefully, then got revenge by leaping on top of the dryer, onto a pile of freshly folded laundry. I turned to Howard and smiled my most encouraging smile. “So. ” He blinked, as if hearing this news for the first time.
Finally, I flipped to the news—just in time to see a skinny guy with a bobbing Adam’s apple being taken into police custody. Wait a minute. I knew that skinny guy. It was Howard Murdoch. I sat up straight in bed. What the heck was Howard doing in police custody? The TV reporter obligingly filled me in. My mild-mannered client, a guy so timid he was probably afraid of Count Chocula, was being arrested for the grisly murder of Westside aerobics instructor Stacy Lawrence. ” I sat across from Howard in the visitors’ room of the county jail, a stark, fluorescent-lit cavern that smelled like old oatmeal.
1622 Bentley. ” Five minutes later, I was on the freeway, heading over to Westwood. I wanted to talk to Stacy’s neighbor in Apartment Seven, the lady who’d heard Howard screaming. If she heard Howard, maybe she’d heard something else, something that would point me in the direction of the true killer. Wait a minute, you’re probably asking yourself. I’m a freelance writer, right? I. Warshawski? That’s just what I was asking myself that day as I headed over to Stacy’s place. What on earth did I think I was doing?