by Brian Thiem
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing. You’re my hero.” She reached up and kissed him softly on the lips.
Was she also giving him the gift early because she had separate plans for Christmas? Sinclair swallowed hard. “Christmas . . . so what are you doing for Christmas?”
“It’s crazy with my family. Dinner Christmas Eve, the following morning at my parent’s house with my brothers and sisters and their kids. Food flowing all the time. Children laughing. Adults talking over each other while engaged in multiple, simultaneous conversations. Italian families are loud. I hope you can handle it.”
“So . . .”
“If you don’t have any other plans, that is. Everyone’s heard so much about you, and they’re dying to meet you. Oops, that was probably a poor choice of words to use around a homicide detective.”
Sinclair laughed. “I can’t think of any place I’d rather be.”
“But we can also fit in any plans you have with Walt and Fred, or Cathy and her family.”
Sinclair felt enormous relief. He didn’t need to ask her to define their relationship. It just was what it was.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“A little sore, but otherwise fine.”
“Walt told me the doctors insisted you not be left alone, so I volunteered to take the night shift.” She took his hand, led him toward the leather recliner, and picked up the TV remote. “It’s the third quarter and the Raiders are down by three touchdowns. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll fix you some hot tea and a snack.”
He settled into his recliner and smiled as he watched Alyssa walk into the kitchen. Remembering the view of her hiking up a trail years ago and her jogging ahead of him a few days ago, he thought she looked pretty damn good in jeans, too.
Acknowledgments
It’s been a hell of a ride this past year watching Red Line make its way to readers while writing Thrill Kill. The list of those who helped me along the way includes fellow writers, active and retired police officers, and others who provided support, advice, and expertise to make this story and its characters as authentic as fiction can be: Andy Alexander, Dana Bottenhagen, Robert Chan, Jane Cleland, Bob Crawford, Wendy Cross, Christian Cruz, Carol Healy, Pam Kelley, Jack Kelly, Mike Martin, Lou Norton, Steve Paich, Dan Pope, Don Snyder, Emerson Thrower, Rachael Van Sloten, Shirley Whiddon, and Lynn Wilcox. I apologize to those I missed.
I’m blessed to be represented by the world’s greatest agent, Paula Munier, who holds my hand when necessary, kicks me in the butt when I need it, and teaches me how to write better. I’m doubly blessed to have the greatest New York publisher, Crooked Lane Books, whose editorial director, Matt Martz, and his talented team of editors, Maddie Caldwell, Heather Boak, and Sarah Poppe, made this book and me as a writer many times better, while publicists Dana Kaye and Julia Borcherts helped spread the word about Red Line and the Detective Matt Sinclair Mystery Series.
I’m especially grateful for my lovely wife, Cathy. Without her support, understanding, and patience, none of this would be possible or worthwhile.