“Your father is our new governor,” Addy said softly after a few moments, shaking her head. “Isn’t life amazing?”
“I always felt like a black sheep. Nice to know it’s from a good flock.”
She snorted. “Sheep’s clothing, maybe. Scratch that. You don’t look like anything other than what you are.”
“Thanks.”
“I meant it as a compliment.”
“It is,” I said. “I’m my mother’s son.”
Addy looked at me quizzically. “Perhaps that’s why you broke away from your grandfather’s way of life. Moira’s influence, for however long she had you.”
“I’d had that same thought. It occurred to me that all my stress about what I might have inherited from Sean Burke was a clue in itself. Burke’s a damn sociopath, or spitting distance from it. Not capable of that kind of introspection. For all the similarities in our lives, at the core I’ve got something he’s missing. Chalk that up to Mom.”
The stout tasted like coffee and smoke. Perfect.
Addy nodded to the three young women laughing, slapping their hands on the table made from a repurposed door. “I like Wren. She’s got focus.”
“Yeah.”
Me, too, it seemed. I knew what I wanted now.
Wren may have sensed our attention. She looked up and smiled at us. I toasted her with the pint.
“Addy,” I said. “Your cabal of friends. You mentioned one of them used to run the United Way around here.”
“That would be Connie,” said Addy, “and she used to run the United Way. Of America.”
“Ah.” Addy’s network never ceased to surprise. “So she would know something about setting up a charity.”
“You could safely say that, yes. Why? Are you thinking of starting a benevolent fund for burglars?”
“Their children, actually.”
She set down the vodka she’d barely been tasting. “You’re serious.”
“I am. Moira was a volunteer with something similar. Foster kids and others whose parents are doing time. Like Cyndra was. I was thinking about how to create an organization like that.”
“Define ‘create.’”
“Hire somebody who knows what to do. Give them funding.”
“Funding from . . . ? You can’t start a charity with stolen money.”
“Depends on who it’s stolen from. But let’s work on the assumption that any proceeds can be legitimately explained.”
“That sounds like a very gray area.”
“I’m very comfortable with very gray. Can you help me?”
She took an actual drink of her vodka this time. “I’m willing to consult. That’s as far as I’ll go for now.”
“Thank you.” We clinked glasses, and I started a circuit of the room to say hello to everyone. Wren met me halfway, at the stained-glass window that gave the regulars a nicer thing to look at than the alley beyond.
“Hey,” she said. “You throw a good party.”
“I dunno. I might not stay too late.”
“No? There’s somewhere else to be?”
“A christening.” I took a set of keys from my pocket, showed them to her. “I got a late birthday present. A lawyer contacted me yesterday. He asked me to come to his office to go over a mess of papers and other things, but the upshot is that for the next twenty months I hold the prepaid lease to a high-rise apartment in Belltown. And a new truck. An inheritance, kind of.”
She took the keys to give them a closer look. “This is . . . from the guy you thought was your dad? Burke?”
“Yeah. He’s skipped town. For good. But after he left he arranged this little surprise. I’m still wrapping my head around it.”
“So you have a new place to live.”
“I do.”
Wren stood close. She seemed to radiate something more than warmth. I could feel it down to my marrow. “And when you say you want to christen it, you mean . . .”
“I do.”
“Hah. I’d better let Elana know we need to ease back on the tequila shots, then. Too many more and I’ll be no good to you.”
I grinned at her. Enjoying the challenge in her eyes.
“I have faith,” I said.
Author’s Note
This novel is fiction, which means I get to make up anything and everything, including but not limited to businesses real or imagined, jurisdictions, history, or anything else that might keep the story moving, keep the lawyers bored, and keep potentially dangerous information where and with whom it belongs.
That said, it’s worth recognizing a few of the more egregious liberties taken:
Sharp-eyed Seattle residents may have noticed that I’ve compressed and slightly accelerated the timeline of the long-awaited opening of the Alaskan Way underground tunnel, and the subsequent demolition of the old elevated viaduct. Neither had happened during January of the same year.
Washington State gubernatorial recalls, regardless of the circumstances, do not result in a runoff election between parties. The order of succession is a sedate process, where the duties would automatically fall upon the lieutenant governor. My way is more fun.
The beautiful Japanese Garden in Seattle’s Washington Park Arboretum is closed to visitors during the winter months. Nor does it admit dogs at any time. Not even Stanley. These limitations aside, a peaceful hour spent in the garden is like a day’s vacation anywhere else. If circumstances permit, I encourage you to see it for yourself.
Acknowledgments
With gratitude to the people who unleashed A Dangerous Breed:
Lisa Erbach Vance of the Aaron Priest Literary Agency, a wonderful agent and first through the door in representing this and all my other works. Taking point takes courage and competence, and Lisa has both in spades.
Lyssa Keusch at William Morrow, a brilliant editor who hones and polishes every novel for the better, while making it seem like any improvements were my idea. And to the team at Morrow who steer and power the creative machine: our renowned publisher Liate Stehlik, Danielle Bartlett, Pamela Jaffee, Kaitlin Harri, Bob Castillo, Kyle O’Brien, and Mireya Chiriboga.
Caspian Dennis of the Abner Stein Agency, Van Shaw’s top operative in the UK.
And to those who lent their knowledge and technical expertise. They offered their time and energy to make the story richer, sometimes only to find their hours of conversation distilled into a single line in the final draft. Any mistakes are my own darn fault.
Patricia Powell, MD, and Dave “Doc” Powell, USN, for specifics on field medicine, pharmaceuticals, oncology, and all things related to the healing sciences.
Christian Hockman, Bco 1/75 Ranger Regiment, for his military and tactical support.
John N. Nassikas III, Partner at Arnold & Porter and former federal prosecutor, for the structure and operations of joint task forces and their work with confidential informants.
Jeannette Wentworth and Betsy Glick of the FBI, for lessons on the science of DNA collection, profiling, and analysis.
Sheryl Moss of the Office of the Secretary of State, for insights into Washington State’s political processes.
Los Anarchists Junior Roller Derby in Los Angeles, where our own young jammer skated hard.
And finally, for support both emotional and spiritual:
Jerrilyn Farmer, and the Saturday Gang—Beverly Graf, Alexandra Jamison, and John McMahon. Fighting the good fight, word by word.
Rick Martens, charity auction “character name” winner. Rick, for the benefit of anyone reading this first, I won’t spoil whether your fictional counterpart makes it out alive.
My sincere thanks to every reader who gave this book a try; I hope you enjoyed the tale. And to the booksellers, reviewers, and fans who might have helped that reader find the novel in the first place. Your dedication transforms a solitary pursuit into a warm and welcoming community of friends.
Amy, Mia, and Madeline, I love you so much. Thank you for your unwavering faith and for making our home a peaceful harbor from any storm, includin
g the occasional tempest inside my head.
About the Author
A native of Seattle, GLEN ERIK HAMILTON was raised aboard a sailboat and grew up around the marinas and commercial docks and islands of the Pacific Northwest. His debut novel, Past Crimes, won the Anthony, Macavity, and Strand Critics awards and was also nominated for the Edgar, Barry, and Nero awards. He now lives in California with his family, and he frequently returns to his hometown to soak up the rain.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
Also by Glen Erik Hamilton
Past Crimes
Hard Cold Winter
Every Day Above Ground
Mercy River
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
a dangerous breed. Copyright © 2020 by Glen Erik Hamilton. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
first edition
Cover design by Richard L. Aquan
Cover photograph © nexus7/Shutterstock
Art by nexus7/Shutterstock, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
Digital Edition July 2020 ISBN: 978-0-06-297853-0
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-297851-6
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
Bay Adelaide Centre, East Tower
22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor
Toronto, Ontario, M5H 4E3
www.harpercollins.ca
India
HarperCollins India
A 75, Sector 57
Noida
Uttar Pradesh 201 301
www.harpercollins.co.in
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand
Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive
Rosedale 0632
Auckland, New Zealand
www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF, UK
www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
www.harpercollins.com
A Dangerous Breed Page 38