Excerpt from Nine Minutes to Kill
No closer to catching the perp than the first day on the case, he wondered what had happened to him on his way up. He thumped the steering wheel again, out of sheer anger. Maybe it was his damned inflated ego that had been deflated by a crafty thug or any number of other things. He snorted. Hadn't he overcome personal hardships much more daunting than this? He had to come up with a new game plan—be his own cheerleader.
The sting of his palm reminded him that he could not sit in the sweltering car forever. How do people accomplish anything in this heat, he wondered, wiping the perspiration off his forehead before it trickled into his eyes? He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Primed, he opened the door and wrenched his six-foot-four frame out of the car, placing his size thirteen Nike on the grimy, brick alley. Moving with confidence, head erect, chest pumped, he approached the crime scene like he had every other time: with authority and assuredness. He had this covered.
Nine Minutes to Kill
DNA, time, an ancient code, and serial killer lead to a toxic elixir.