by Joe Clifford
At the sink, I shoveled water into my mouth. I looked out the window, back up at Lamentation Mountain. The moon no longer balanced atop those peaks; the earth had shifted, everything off center.
This world would keep spinning. I’d wait here for that ball to teeter, topple past the tipping point, and start to roll, gather speed with the force of an avalanche and flatten these frozen fields of wheat and chaff.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
FIRST AND FOREMOST, thanks to my lovely wife, Justine. Living with a writer isn’t easy. I disappear for months at a time to craft and create, and even when I’m not hunkered down in the basement, I live in a fantasy world, carrying on imaginary conversations with make-believe people as I stare across the kitchen table with a blank, vacant gaze. Somehow the children survive, the lights and heat stay on, and you are still there in the morning. For this and more I am truly blessed.
Thanks to my boys, Holden and Jackson Kerouac. You guys are still too young to understand how your being born made my life worthwhile. I am lucky to be your dad.
To my remaining family—my brothers, Josh and Jason; and my sister, Melissa: Jay, thanks for letting me steal parts of your life to create Jay Porter. Josh, sorry I wasn’t a better big brother; I did my best. And, Melissa, Mom would be very proud to see the woman you’ve become.
Thanks to “Big” Jim Petersen. Every boy needs a dad, and even though you were under no obligation to do so, you stepped up and showed me the way. I shudder to think where I might’ve ended up had you not taken on the job.
Thanks to Rich, Tom, and Jimmy. The older I get, the fewer people I feel comfortable burdening with my problems. I’m glad I met you when I did, that you knew me when, and that after everything you still take my calls.
To my writing mentors and teachers—in no particular order, Steve Ostrowski, Tom Hazuka, David Cappella, Ravi Shankar, Lynne Barrett, Les Standiford, James W. Hall, John Dufresne, Dan Wakefield, and anyone else I may’ve missed: thank you for all you’ve taught me. You took a trembling, skinny kid fresh off the streets and kept him safe under your wings. I probably don’t have a writing career without you; I definitely don’t stay alive.
Thanks to my East Coast experts on drugs, alcohol, and firearms, Josh Karaczewski and Scott Hartan.
To the Berlin High Class of ’88: thanks for the continued support, and liberal use of your names, albeit for fictional purposes: Jim Case, Alison Hodgson, Tracy Bartlett, Christopher Ludko, Jack Lotko, Ron Lamontagne and Marc Boucher, and of course Vin Biscoglio, who is much, much nicer in real life.
To all my mystery writing peers and contemporaries: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, and I’ll probably keep saying it with every book I publish. You will never find kinder, more giving and supportive folks than those who write about murder for a living. Up until now, I’ve avoided listing everyone by name because I could fill up an entire book, but having just returned from Bouchercon 2016 in New Orleans, seeing your smiling faces, it’s hard not to feel the love. So here goes: Hilary Davidson, Brian Panowich, Rob Hart, Catriona McPherson, Angel Colon, Mike Creeden, Rob Brunet, Terrence McCauley, Rob Pierce, Danny Gardner, Renee “Brandy” Pickup, Thomas Pluck, Keith Rawson, Pam Stack, Mike McCrary, Erik Storey, Erik Arneson, Chris Irvin, Ron Earl Phillips, Hector Duarte, Jr., William E. Wallace, Mike Miner, Will Viharo, Eryk Pruitt, James R. Tuck, James Grady, Nik Korpon, Jen Conley, Sara J. Henry, Craig T. McNeely, Jordan Harper, Benoit Lelièvre, Mike Monson, Rebecca Swope, Michelle Isler, Charles Salzberg, Eric Beetner, David James Keaton, Benjamin Whitmer, Christa Faust, Johnny Shaw, Allison Davis, S.W. Lauden, Chris Dewildt, Fawn Neun, Nanette Blake, Todd Robinson, David Corbett, Ro Cuzon, and though I’ve already thanked him, I’ll do it again because I love him that much—an extra shout-out to my brother from another, Tom Pitts. Glad you made it out, too. I know I am missing someone. So let’s leave it at if we’ve ever shared a drink at the bar or a late-night e-rap session, this one goes out to you. (And special thanks to David Ivester for sticking around after hours, and Timothy McKean for bringing Jay Porter to life in our audiobooks.)
Thank you to my agent, Liz Kracht, and the Kimberley Cameron Agency. Your job is not all that dissimilar to my wife’s—you have to deal with my neurosis, impatience, and insecurities—for a fraction of the glory. You’ve sold five of my novels in five years. Can’t ask for much more than that. (Except France. I’d like to go to France.) Most of all, thank you for being my friend.
Thanks to the Oceanview team. Pat, Bob, Lee, Emily, and Lisa, you’ve given Jay Porter a home, and for that I am forever grateful. You have been everything I could ask for in a publisher. Thank you for believing in me. I will continue to work tirelessly to reward that faith.
And, finally, a hearty, heartfelt thank-you to all my readers and fans. You are why I do what I do . . .
Table of Contents
Cover
Half title
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Acknowledgments