Black Water Transit
Carsten Stroud
Language: English
Pages: 432
ISBN: 0440237092
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Jack Vermillion is seeing red. So is Earl V. Pike. So is a smart, beautiful NYC detective named Casey Spandau. For Jack, it began when Earl asked for a little favor--one former soldier to another. With Jack’s son in serious trouble with the law and his shipping company, Black Water Transit, about to hit the big time, Jack saw a chance to be a good father, a good citizen, and a good CEO--by ratting out Earl V. Pike to the feds. It was a monumental mistake.
Now Pike is mad. Bodies are piling up. And all the backstabbers are coming out of the woodwork in Jack’s rattled world. Jack’s only hope: detective Casey Spandau, who began her week hunting for a sex criminal and ended up with Earl V. Pike--a man using guile, skill, and one astounding long-range weapon to kill everyone who gets in his way. For Casey and Jack Vermillion, making Earl V. Pike angry has turned into a cross-country nightmare. But taking him down will be even worse.
Creek Johnson’s name for the boy—was only really happy when something small and furry was coughing up blood in a corner. But the boy was his responsibility and Jack loved him as hard as he could. He was all the boy had, since Janice had finally bailed out on both of them when Danny was seven. For some reason, maybe his Catholicism, Jack had never legally divorced Janice, so for years she had cruised into and out of their lives like a bad-luck comet, staying a few days, leaving radio static and
upper lip. Another tiny red dot crawls out of his right eye, very near the tear duct, and moves over the bridge of his nose. Then another. The car begins to roll forward. Pike closes his eyes, presses hard on the brake, the Benz lurches to a stop. More tiny red spiders crawl across the insides of his lids, black silhouettes against the sun glare. They float in his vision, a constellation of pinpricks. They begin to pour out of his ears. He can feel them in their thousands as they race across his
and although the cat had gotten used to being inside, he was a long way from tame. Jack liked him because he was a cranky loner who reminded him of himself, although he had lately come to the conclusion that Smoke was about the stupidest cat in the eastern United States. But he was company, about all Jack could stand. Jack was listening to a soundtrack of the music from Chinatown. The trumpet solos followed him as he walked from room to room, along with the tinny cross talk on the marine radio
to buy gas. His hand was bandaged. The only thing that says he’s innocent is the Benz, and I think Casey’s right. I think he managed to get the car cleaned up somehow. If we can match his DNA with the crime scene, we don’t even need the damned car.” Pete looked from one to the other, his mind working. “Okay. Okay. That works for me. Nicky, I’ll take this back to Albany, get it matched right away. Any idea where Pike is now?” “No. I haven’t really looked. But we’re not the only people who want
my witness. Young woman, until the governor of this great state advises me that I am no longer in charge of this investigation—which, I take no pleasure in advising you, miss, is how the statute actually reads in Pennsylvania—I will conduct this investigation as I see fit. Now you and your whirlybird pals have scattered my crime scene to the four winds, and although we are recent acquaintances, miss, I find you a most abrupt and unpleasant person and Henry here—stand up straight, Henry!—is going