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A prominent author dies at a mystery writer's retreat. Who Did it? Recently promoted to investigations, Deputy Sheriff Christine Urich is eager to succeed. Show she is not merely a pretty face promoted to make the Department look fair. But will this first case derail her dream? Why? The lead Detective, Robert Jordan, struggles with Demons of his own. His career circles the drain after being hounded out of Memphis Homicide. Landing in this rural county, Jordan seems content to finish his career making as few waves as possible.
As they struggle to build a working relationship while stumbling over the writers shadowing their every move, they discover that everyone there wanted the victim dead. Are the writers interested in watching the police at work, or are one or more of them killers covering their trail while pretending to cooperate? Can the detectives put their differences aside and bring the killer to justice? Come find out!
Genre: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Police ProceduralSeries has won international awards and has been on the best seller list on several occasions. This is the first book in the series. It sell well and has a great read through average for the series.
She stumbled but caught herself. She might have to slow down on the wine, she thought, as she poured another glass. It seemed more potent than usual. She sipped again then spat it out when it failed to go down.
How could this be happening? She asked herself as the horrible realization entered her mind.
She’d been so careful. Made a point of talking with the kitchen staff. Made them aware of her allergy. How? How could this happen?
Unable to speak or breathe, she tripped over her feet as she rushed to her hold-all bag. Weaving, she groped inside, until she grasped the allergy injector double pack. After flipping the yellow cap off with her thumb, she pulled one from the carrier. Snapped off its blue lid, then jammed it against her leg. It clicked. The needle’s sting usually elicited a relieved sigh, but the air remained trapped in her throat.
To keep her fear in check, she counted to ten, waiting for the epinephrine to work.
The room spun around her as she struggled.to remain on her feet. Still unable to breathe, she hobbled to the chair. Seated, she might calm, catch her breath. In the past, the medication worked quicker than now. Maybe she needed the second injector. As she neared the chair, she realized the other pen lay on the bed near her bag.
Dizzy and woozy, she staggered to the bed. As she fell on the bed, she grasped the pen. As she flipped off the cap, it slipped from her hand and dropped to the floor. When she lunged for it, she lost her balance and tumbled to the carpet beside it. Her hands trembled as she again removed the cap. It took all her strength to remove the carrier from its tube. Kathy grasped the blue cap, freeing it from the pen. She again drove the orange tip into her thigh, but it slipped in her weak grip. Desperate, she rolled on it. Her body weight made it click.
The room lights faded. The pain in her chest exploded before she faded away.
