Newlywed Chief of Police Kate Burkholder is awakened by an urgent midnight call summoning her to a suspicious fire in the woods. When she arrives at the scene, she discovers a charred body. According to the coroner, the deceased, an Amish man named Milan Swanz, was chained to a stake and burned alive. It is an appalling and eerily symbolic crime against an upstanding husband and father.
Kate knows all too well that the Amish prefer to handle their problems without interference from the outside world, and no one will speak about the murdered man. From what she’s able to piece together, Swanz led a deeply troubled life and had recently been excommunicated. But if that’s the case, why are the Amish so reluctant to talk about him? Are they protecting the memory of one of their own? Or are they afraid of something they dare not share?
When her own brother is implicated in the case, Kate finds herself not only at odds with the Amish, the world of which she was once a part, but also the English community and her counterparts in law enforcement. The investigation takes a violent turn when Kate’s life is threatened by a mysterious stranger.
To uncover the truth about the death of Milan Swanz, Kate must dive deep into the Anabaptist culture, peering into all the dark corners of its history, only to uncover a secret legacy that shatters everything she thought she knew about the Amish themselves—and her own roots.
The Burning by Linda Castillo once again is a wonderful read. She seems to have outdone herself with a horrific crime and putting her main character through the wringer.
Unfortunately, this year Linda Castillo is unable to give an interview because a close family member is seriously ill, and she needs to be at home for them. But last year in an interview she noted about this story, “Regarding the murder I want to keep things fresh. I have readers peek back into the reformation by burning someone at the stake, and another person drowned. This is what was done to the Anabaptists during the reformation.”
The plot begins with newlywed Chief of Police Kate Burkholder awakened by an urgent midnight call summoning her to a suspicious fire in the woods. When she arrives at the scene, she discovers a charred body. According to the coroner, the deceased, an Amish man named Milan Swanz, was chained to a stake and burned alive. As with most of her books, many of the victims are not well liked. In this case, Swanz loved to argue with people, had a temper, kept grudges, sought revenge, demanded obedience and submission from his family, and was basically devoid of a moral compass.
To uncover the truth about the death of Milan Swanz, Kate dives deep into the Anabaptist culture, finding all the dark corners of its history. She uncovers a secret legacy that verges on Amish vigilantism. Because of her due diligence she becomes a target, realizing that violence and ruthlessness are being used to rid the world of those who “are not fundamentally good.”
As the story unfolds, her brother Jacob, known to have argued with Milan, becomes a suspect in the killing of Swanz and is arrested. Because it is now a conflict of interest, she is ordered off the case but decides to work the case behind the scenes with her husband, John Tomasetti, an Ohio BCI (Bureau of Criminal Investigation) investigator, to prove her brother’s innocence. She knows she must continue to investigate because one of the law enforcement officers, working for the Ohio BCI, assigned to the case, has tunnel vision and only sees her brother as the suspect. Working together, Tomasetti and Kate must find the killer to clear her reputation and her brother. In the story she is attacked three times, sometimes brutally, making readers wonder if she should take some self-defense classes.
It is very interesting how Castillo explores Kate and Jacob’s relationship. He is her older brother, someone who she has looked up to as a child. She knows him well and realizes he is not forth coming with the answers to her questions. Although she sees him as honorable, she also recognizes he is keeping secrets.
There are also glimpses in the book about the relationship between Tomasetti and Kate. They dance around the subject of starting a family. A powerful book quote, “the part of me has always wanted children. The idea terrifies the part of me that is a cop and knows too much about the dark side of a world that can be cruel.”
Linda commented last year, ““I loved writing this book. Kate is still adjusting to being married and does feel the tick of her biological clock regarding having children. This is something that a lot of women have in the back of their mind, how long can I wait before I have a baby? This is where she is right now. I think for the next several books she will only be married. Remember Tomasetti had his first wife murdered. He is cool with her being a cop and police chief. In fact, he nicknamed her ‘Chief.’ But how much will he put up with if she is endangered or gets hurt? This will come to a head at some point. But in The Burning book, it is simmering in the background. If she does have a child, does she want to risk her children being without a mother. This is a huge question. This is a high-risk profession. Kate and Tomasetti must figure it out. It is something that will be addressed starting with The Burning book.”
Per usual this story is a winner with many twists and turns. Kate takes a dark and twisted journey with evil and danger lurking everywhere, putting both her life and career in jeopardy. A bonus is how Castillo explore Kate’s personal life and feelings.
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About the Author
Linda Castillo is the author of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Kate Burkholder series, set in the world of the Amish. The first book, Sworn to Silence, was adapted into a Lifetime original movie titled An Amish Murder starring Neve Campbell as Kate Burkholder. Castillo is the recipient of numerous industry awards including a nomination by the International Thriller Writers for Best Hardcover, the Mystery Writers of America’s Sue Grafton Memorial Award, and an appearance on the Boston Globe’s shortlist for best crime novel. In addition to writing, Castillo’s other passion is horses. She lives in Texas with her husband and is currently at work on her next book.
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BIO: Elise Cooper has written book reviews and interviewed best-selling authors since 2009. Her reviews have covered several different genres, including thrillers, mysteries, women’s fiction, romance and cozy mysteries. An avid reader, she engages authors to discuss their works, and to focus on the descriptions of their characters and the plot. While not writing reviews, Elise loves to watch baseball and visit the ocean in Southern California, with her dog and husband.
UNSUB (An UNSUB Novel Book #1) by Meg Gardiner is the gripping first book in this crime thriller series that I am late to the party reading, but better late than never. This story introduces readers to the series protagonist, Caitlin Hendrix as a detective, before she joins the FBI’s Behavioral Unit.
In the 1990’s, the San Francisco Bay area was terrorized by a serial killer known as the Prophet. Caitlin’s father was the lead investigator on the case, and it destroyed his mental health and marriage. Caitlin still has nightmares from that time but has grown to be an investigator like her father.
Now, twenty years later, the Prophet has returned and is determined to begin again where he left off and he is excited to pull Caitlin into the case, to destroy her as he did her father. This is Caitlin’s first major case, and she is determined to decipher the Prophet’s twisted poems and messages and stop the carnage. While her father and mother warn her away from this case, Caitlin believes she can stop the killer and avoid the mistakes her father made, but can she catch the Prophet before he destroys her?
This is an edge-of-your-seat, cat and mouse thriller that I could not put down, even when the descriptions of the Prophet’s kills were quite graphic. Caitlin is a complex protagonist with a background that is revealed with flashback personal information placed throughout the story. The Prophet is vicious and determined. Each encounter ramped up my anxiety and dread. Be aware, this is a serial killer thriller, so the violence is up front and in your face. All the secondary characters are believable, and you never know who will live to the end. The climax is savage and answered many questions but left a thread to follow into the next book as well as moving Caitlin to the FBI.
I highly recommend this serial killer crime thriller and cannot wait to dive into book two, Into the Black Nowhere.
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About the Author
Meg Gardiner is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of seventeen thrillers. Her latest is Shadowheart, featuring FBI profiler Caitlin Hendrix. The Real Book Spy calls it “A mind-trip of a story.” Booklist says, “As always, the writing is exquisite and the story is perfectly crafted.” UNSUB, the first novel in the series, won the 2018 Barry Award for Best Thriller. The Dark Corners of the Night was bought by Amazon Studios for development as an hour-long television drama.
Her previous novel, Heat 2, is a prequel/sequel to the film Heat, co-authored with the film’s writer/director, Michael Mann. It debuted at #1 on the NYT best seller list.
Meg is the author of the Evan Delaney series, the Jo Beckett novels, and several stand alones. China Lake won the 2009 Edgar award for Best Paperback Original. The Nightmare Thief won the 2012 Audie Award for Thriller/Suspense audiobook of the year. Phantom Instinct was one of O, the Oprah magazine’s “Best Books of Summer.”
A graduate of Stanford Law School in California, Meg practiced law in Los Angeles and taught writing at the University of California Santa Barbara. She lives in Austin, Texas.
A U.S. destroyer is torpedoed by an Iranian submarine and Captain Murray Wilson of the U.S.S. Michigan is flown to the Pentagon to meet with the Secretary of the Navy (SecNav). There Wilson learns that the Iranian submarine is just a cover story. One of the United States’ own fully automated unmanned underwater vehicles has gone rogue, its programming corrupted in some way. Murray is charged with hunting it down and taking it out before the virus that’s infected its operating system can infect the rest of the fleet.
At the same time, the head of the SEAL detachment aboard the U.S.S Michigan is killed and Lonnie Mixell, a former U.S. operative, now assassin for hire, is responsible. And that is only the first SEAL to be hunted down and killed. Jake Harrison, fellow SEAL, discovers that these SEALs had one mission in common – they were all on the team that killed Bin Laden. Or so the world was told.
As Wilson discovers that his mission is actually meant to cover up dangerous acts of corruption, even treason, Harrison discovers that the assassin is out to protect the same forces. Forces too powerful for either of them to take on alone.
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Elise’s Thoughts
The Bin Laden Plot by Rick Campbell is a great military-espionage story. The book has the CIA Director, Christine O’ Connor, along with a former SEAL, Jake Harrison, now a CIA contractor, working together to find out if there is a cover up that includes dangerous acts of corruption, even treason.
This plot starts with the destruction of a destroyer in the Persian Gulf. The explanation from the Secretary of Navy is that it was the result of a rogue UUV (Unmanned Underwater Vehicle). A decision is made to send a submarine to destroy it, headed by Murray Wilson, the USS Michigan Captain.
At the same time, Lonnie Mixell, a former U.S. operative, now assassin for hire, is responsible for eliminating those SEALS responsible for killing Bin Laden, including Jake Harrison, a fellow SEAL, who was also on the mission. CIA Director Christine O’Connor is suspicious about who is really behind the killing and what really happened with the UUV. This pits her and Jake working together again to find out what is really happening.
This story will take readers on another thrill ride with unexpected twists and turns. In some ways it is a cliff hanger with the groundwork set for the next novel.
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Author Interview
Elise Cooper: Idea for the story?
Rick Campbell: I did address the question you asked last time if there will be more of Christine. The overlying question, is did America really kill Bin Laden? By dumping his body in the ocean what happened to the conclusive proof? The book is set up in this way: did he live, but after they did get the DNA analysis was it proof, or was it covered up with a fake DNA analysis? All the technology is definitely feasible. I need to deliver a submarine thriller.
EC: Where are you going with the relationship?
RC: Christine and Harrison must work through their issues. It will resolve itself to some extent. In the relationship they still love each other with Harrison’s wife feeling inferior and is jealous of Christine. They still care for each other, but Christine is very careful not to cross the red line in the sand. Going back a couple of novels after she was put through a lot on the submarine she did ask Harrison about his relationship at home. She was trying to be honorable and not having an affair.
EC: What about the Khalila-Harrison professional partner relationship?
RC: He considers her a sociopath. She could be a double agent and ruthless. She trusts him completely, but Harrison is having problems trusting her.
EC: How would you describe one of the bad guys, Lonnie Mixell?
RC: He feels betrayed, someone seeking revenge and vengeance. He is disloyal because he was a former friend of Christine and Harrison. He has anger-management issues. Someone who is pure evil.
EC: How about the other bad person, Secretary of the Navy Brenda Verbeck?
RC: She is conniving, power hungry, manipulative, ambitious, and ruthless. I do reference if someone is wealthy and powerful they get away with what normal people don’t. She is resentful and vindictive.
EC: Next book?
RC: It is titled, Vengeance, probably out in the spring/summer of next year. There are four characters who all want revenge. Christine will be a central figure, as will Khalila and it will have as one of the settings, the Middle East. I will write these types of books if I have good plots. My challenge is that at least 1/3 of the plot must be submarine based.
I signed a six-book contract with another publisher for a different series. It is military-science fiction. I am a science fiction fan, which is where my passion lies. It takes place 1000 years in the future. The basic premise: humanity has been at war with an alien species for three decades.
THANK YOU!!
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BIO: Elise Cooper has written book reviews and interviewed best-selling authors since 2009. Her reviews have covered several different genres, including thrillers, mysteries, women’s fiction, romance and cozy mysteries. An avid reader, she engages authors to discuss their works, and to focus on the descriptions of their characters and the plot. While not writing reviews, Elise loves to watch baseball and visit the ocean in Southern California, with her dog and husband.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for KNIFE RIVER (The Sheriff Ty Dawson Crime Thriller Series) by Baron R. Birtcher on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Kingsumo giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
A sheriff fighting to keep the peace in 1970s Oregon faces a shocking secret from his town’s past, in this crime thriller from the author of Reckoning.
There are rules in the West no matter what era you were born in, and it’s up to lawman Ty Dawson to make sure they’re followed in the valley he calls home. The people living on this unforgiving land keep to themselves and are wary of the modern world’s encroachment into their quiet lives.
So it’s not without some suspicion that Dawson confronts a newcomer to the region: a record producer who has built a music studio in an isolated compound. His latest project is a collaboration with a famous young rock star named Ian Swann, recording and filming his sessions for a movie. An amphitheater for a live show is being built on the land, giving Dawson flashbacks to the violent Altamont concert. Not on his watch.
But even beefed up security can’t stop a disaster that’s been over a decade in the making. All it takes is one horrific case bleeding its way into the present to prove that the good ol’ days spawned a brand of evil no one wants to revisit . . .
Genre: Crime Thriller Published by: Open Road Media Publication Date: April 23, 2024 Number of Pages: 338 ISBN: 9781504086523 (ISBN10: 150408652X) Series: The Sheriff Ty Dawson Crime Thriller Series
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
KNIFE RIVER (The Sheriff Ty Dawson Crime Thriller Series) by Baron Birtcher is an intricately plotted crime thriller with buried appalling crimes and secrets from the sheriff’s small town’s past that are about to be revealed and become the cause of a horrific crime in the present. This is the fourth book in the Ty Dawson series, but each is easily read as a standalone story.
Sheriff Ty Dawson is a Korean War veteran, rancher, and sheriff in the 1970’s small town of Meridian, Oregon. Ty discovers a new music studio compound has been built outside town. A famous young rock star is recording a new album and filming his sessions. It will culminate in the filming of a live concert built in a new outdoor amphitheater. Ty does not want the headaches and crimes related to a large intrusion of outsiders, but he has no choice.
What Ty does not know is the singer has ulterior motives for picking this location and is in danger from someone who does not want crimes from the past to resurface.
This is a story that pulled me in, and I did not put the book down until the end. I enjoy that it is set in the 1970’s and I especially like the references regarding the music scene and musicians. The flashback scenes to the buried secrets were interwoven throughout the present in the story and just kept ratcheting up the tension to the climax when the two collide. Sheriff Ty Dawson is a fully developed character of moral conviction with a love of his family, friends, and town, but he is not blind to the changes happening in the world. There is just something in Mr. Birtcher’s writing style that pulls me into each book in this series and makes me believe Ty is real and could walk right off the page.
I highly recommend this exceptional crime thriller addition to the series, the entire series, and this author!
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Excerpt
Prelude:
FACING WEST
SOME SAY THAT to be born into a thing is to be blind to half of it. Oftentimes, the things we seek and discover for ourselves are those we hold most dear.
Any cattleman will tell you that a ranch is a living thing. Not only the livestock that graze the meadowland, but the blood that nourishes the hungry soil, the trees that inhale the wind, and the rain that carves runnels into the hardpan that, in time, grow into rivers. The Diamond D is no different in that respect, some would even say it was the beating heart of Meriwether County, Oregon.
As both a stockman and the sheriff of this county, I believe this to be true.
But the events that unfolded in the autumn of 1964 cast a cloud across that land. Not just across my ranch, but the entire valley, though they didn’t bear their terrible fruit until nearly a dozen years later, in the spring of 1976. The incidents still haunt me, though others paid a steeper price than I; some with their lives, or the lives of their loved ones, while some forfeit their sanity, and still others with their souls.
That is where this story begins.
CHAPTER ONE
LAMBS AND LIONS hold no sway over the springtime here in Meriwether County. Some years it will snow through mid-May, other times the golden sun rides high and bright, and the river flows fast, clear and deep with high-country melt on the first day of March. Most years, it’s both, with Mother Nature keeping her whims to herself until she alone decides to turn them loose upon us.
But this particular Saturday morning was unusually quiet, not even a breath of breeze stirring the leaves of the cottonwoods that grew thick and untamed along the creekbank. I was standing outside on the gallery, sipping my coffee as I leaned on the porch rail, watching my wife, Jesse, hammer the last nail into a birdbox she had made. She must have felt my eyes on her, as she looked up from her work and smiled. A few moments later, she stepped up the stairs to where I stood and kissed me on the cheek, smelling of sawdust and lemongrass tea.
“The bluebirds are back,” she said. “I just saw them.”
“You haven’t lost your knack for building those things.”
“Plenty of practice. You got home late last night.”
I had spent the previous day transporting a man all the way from Lewiston up to the Portland lockup to await his trial. He stood accused of murdering his own wife and young child. It had been a long, depressing day, and by the time I completed the intake paperwork, locked up the substation in Meridian, and finally drove home to the ranch, Jesse was already asleep.
But this morning, everything in her expression seemed overflowing with hope and expectation. Springtime was her season and always had been.
“Want a hand putting that thing up?” I asked.
She replied by handing it to me, together with the hammer.
She watched me hang the birdbox on a post beside the vegetable garden, outside the kitchen window where I knew she’d spend her quiet mornings secretly observing the bluebirds as they built their nest and reared their brood.
“You plan on helping Caleb pick the new cowboys today?” She asked me when I came back inside.
It was the time of year when we hired a few temporary hands for Spring Works, when we’d round-up the cattle and calves from every corner of the ranch; we’d vet, brand and sort the livestock, and mend a perpetual string of breaks in the wire along miles of fenceline before we turned the herd out to the pastures for summer grazing. The Diamond D employed three permanent cowboys in addition to me and old Caleb Wheeler—our foreman for more than three decades—but with 63,000 deeded acres and another 14,000 under a Land Management lease, Spring Works was more work than the five of us could handle in the short span of time required to get it done. Every year a couple dozen hopeful itinerant riders, ropers, rodeo bums and saddle-tramps would answer the call for a temporary employment opportunity, and every year Caleb Wheeler got more riled up about what he viewed as the eroding quality of the contemporary American cowboy. He’d cuss and grump and holler about it, but he’d end up settling on three or four hands he reckoned could help us get the job done with a minimum of aggravation.
“I’m staying out of it this year,” I said, and Jesse grinned. “Figured I’d lay in a cord or two for the woodshed instead, before the weather gets too hot.”
“I saw some deadfall down by Corcoran’s,” she said.
“That’s where I was headed.”
“Make you some lunch to take with you?”
“I don’t intend to be out that long.”
“Good to hear,” she said, and winked at me before she turned, and stepped inside the house.
* * *
HALF AN HOUR later I was straddling a fallen spruce, angling the chainsaw to buck the trunk into three-foot rounds that I’d later split into quarters with the long-handled axe. The solitary labor, the sweat staining my shirt, and the burn down deep inside my muscles were a welcome balm after the week I’d had, and the air was rife with the smell of pine tar, sap and chain oil. I looked up and caught some movement in the distance, where the BLM forest gave onto an open range already knee deep with wildflowers and whipgrass. I recognized Tom Jenkins’ roping horse moving hellbent-for-leather across the flats, with young Tom leaning across her withers, one hand on the reins and the other holding his hat in place on top of his head. His mount was an admirable animal, a grullo Quarter Horse that stood nearly seventeen hands, fast and thick through the chest. Tom Jenkins handled her well, and he was beelining in my direction like he had something on his mind.
I killed the power on the chainsaw and set it in the bed of the military surplus jeep I use when I do ranch work, stepped over to the fence and took a splash of water from the canteen I’d hung in the shade of a young cedar. I didn’t have to wait long before Tom pulled up in a skidding stop inside a cloud of dust, throwing a cascade of torn earth and pebbles through the barbed strands of the wire.
“Mr. Dawson,” he said and touched a finger to his hat brim, sounding nearly as breathless as his horse. “I was hoping that was you.”
“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” I asked, but suspected I already knew the answer.
When I’d first met Tom Jenkins, he was nothing but a kid with a limp handshake, no eye-contact, and the familiar slope-shouldered gait and posture of the typical aimless teenaged slacker. At that time, he’d been well on his way to serious trouble, the variety and scope of which would have landed him in a six-by-eight jail cell where the other inmates would have eaten him alive.
He is the nephew of my neighbor to the south of me, Snoose Corcoran, whose sister had sent the kid up here from California’s central valley to his uncle’s ranch in southeastern Oregon in hopes of putting some distance between young Tom and his unquestionably poor choices of acquaintances. Ill-equipped to deal with the boy himself, Snoose begged me to take the kid on as a maverick, and I’d reluctantly agreed. After six months working side by side with trail hardened cowboys on the Diamond D young Tom Jenkins’ attitude had been readjusted, straightening both his spine and fortitude. Now, at barely 18 years of age, Tom had assumed the reins of the floundering Corcoran cattle operation from his uncle Snoose, who had been gradually disappearing into a bottle.
“Cow and a calf went missing from my place,” Tom answered. “Fence busted by the westward line, and I figured them two mighta headed for the water.”
My ranch hands ended up nicknaming the kid “Silver,” after he’d astonished us all by stepping up and winning a silver buckle for the Diamond D in the team roping event at the annual rodeo. I knew Tom secretly treasured the handle they’d bestowed, wore it like a medal, but I never spoke it; that was between my men and him.
“Where’s your uncle?” I asked.
His shrug spoke sorrowful volumes.
“So, what set you hightailing over here to see me, son?” I asked. “What’s the trouble? Besides the missing beeves.”
“I was up there on the other side of the tree line,” he said. He twisted sideways in his saddle, took off his hat and gestured with it toward a distant stretch of blue sky. “There was an eagle making low passes over the meadow, so I stopped to watch it for a minute. It was so still and quiet out there, I could hear the eagle calling out while it was gliding on the thermals.”
“You don’t see something like that every day,” I said. “Not even out here in the boondocks.”
“No sir, that’s a fact,” Tom said. “But, while I sat there watching that creature flying, all of a sudden and out of nowhere, a helicopter come buzzing across the ridge, you know the one…”
“Big stone bluff, looks like somebody cut it down the middle with a KA-BAR knife.”
“That’s the one,” he said. “Well, that chopper came in fast, and went straight toward that bird…” The young man’s voice trailed off, his face contorted like he’d encountered a foul odor. “They circled it as it flew, like they were teasing it. Two men inside the—whattaya call it?”
“Cockpit.”
“Yeah, the cockpit. Then they started closing in on him, chasing it. The guy in the passenger seat had a rifle in his hands. I could see the barrel sticking out.”
What Tom was describing to me was not only a despicable and loathsome act, it was a serious crime. The mere harassment of a protected species is a federal offense; hunting and killing one merely for the sick thrill of it was another matter entirely.
“What happened, Tom?”
He swallowed drily, shook his head and looked down at the ground between us.
“He shot that bird right out of the sky, sir,” he said. “That eagle wasn’t even doing nothing, just gliding circles on the wind, and those assholes—sorry, sir—they shot him cold dead.”
I could imagine the creature’s confused and lonely cry as it spiraled down, bleeding, terrified and helpless, to the earth.
“You pretty sure about the location, Tom?”
“About four, five miles thataway, near the bluff, where the river makes that sharp bend to the south.”
“Did you get a look at either of the men?”
“Naw, they were too far away and moving pretty fast. But I got a good look at the whirlybird.”
I asked him for a description of the helicopter, and I knew right away he was referring to a Bell H-13, known to soldiers as a “Sioux.” They’d been in common use as scouting and medical evacuation aircraft by the military. I’d seen them every day when I was stationed in Korea.
“Like the choppers on that TV show?” I asked.
“Yes, sir. Exactly like on M*A*S*H.”
“Big glass bubble on the front? No doors? Looks kinda like a dragonfly?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you see any numbers written on it? On the tail? Or maybe on the underside?”
Tom Jenkins pressed his hat back on his head and gazed up at the empty sky beyond the forest, like he could return that beautiful animal to where it rightfully belonged through sheer force of his will. The high peaks beyond the meadow were streaked with deep blue shadows in the sunlight, their cloughs and gorges washed in purple and topped with snow so white it hurt your eyes.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I don’t remember seeing numbers or anything like that.”
His face took on the aspect of defeat, as though some personal failure had cost the animal its life.
“You did good, Tom. You did the right thing coming to me straight away. There was nothing else you could have done.”
He nodded once, his lips pressed tight, and he leaned down to adjust a stirrup that needed no adjustment.
“You want some help finding your cows?” I asked, thinking he might appreciate the company.
“I can do it, sir, but thank you. I can haze ’em back home on my own.”
“You gotta get eyeballs on the critters first. I can help you, son.”
“Thank you just the same, Mr. Dawson… Sheriff… Hell, I don’t even know what to call you.”
His expression softened for the first time since he’d showed up, a brief and fleeting smile, then his focus drifted far away again.
“Something else, Tom?”
“Just wondering.”
“Wondering what?”
“Do you think you can catch those guys who shot that bird?”
“I’m going to try my damndest.”
His eyes remained fixed on the horizon.
“What’ll happen to ’em if you do?”
I drew a bandana from the back pocket of my jeans, removed my hat, and dried the sweat that had been leaking from beneath the band.
“It’s been against the law to kill an eagle since the 1940s. If you’re not an Indian, you can’t even possess a single feather. If you get caught, you pay a steep fine and then they send you off to jail. If you’re a rancher, you could lose the leases on your land.”
Tom turned his gaze back on me, and I noted for the hundredth time that this young man no longer bore any resemblance to the person he had been on the day he first arrived here from California.
“That punishment don’t seem tough enough,” Tom said. “Not for what I seen ’em do.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
He clucked softly to his horse, and reined her back in the direction from which they’d come.
“I’d better get a move on,” he said.
“Be careful out there, son,” I said to his retreating back, but my words were lost in the distance.
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Author Bio
Baron Birtcher is the LA TIMES and IMBA BESTSELLING author of the hardboiled Mike Travis series (Roadhouse Blues, Ruby Tuesday, Angels Fall, and Hard Latitudes), the award-winning Ty Dawson series (South California Purples, Fistful Of Rain, Reckoning, and Knife River), as well as the critically-lauded stand-alone, RAIN DOGS.
Baron is a winner of the SILVER FALCHION AWARD, and the WINNER of 2018’s Killer Nashville READERS CHOICE AWARD, as well as 2019’s BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR for Fistful Of Rain.
He has also had the honor of having been named a finalist for the NERO AWARD, the LEFTY AWARD, the FOREWORD INDIE AWARD, the 2016 BEST BOOK AWARD, the Pacific Northwest’s regional SPOTTED OWL AWARD, and the CLAYMORE AWARD.
Everyone has secrets, but not everyone has remorse…
A terrible accident.
Meghan Michaels is trying to find balance between being a single mom and working full time as an ICU nurse, when a patient named Caitlin arrives in her ward with a traumatic brain injury. They say she jumped from a bridge and plunged over twenty feet to the train tracks below.
A shocking revelation.
When a witness comes forward with new details about Caitlin’s fall, it calls everything they know into question. Was a crime committed? Did someone actually push Caitlin, and if so, who… and why?
No one is safe.
Meghan lets herself get close to Caitlin until she’s deeply entangled in the mystery surrounding her. Only when it’s too late, does she realize that she and her daughter could be the next victims…
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Elise’s Thoughts
She’s Not Sorry by Mary Kubica is a suspenseful thriller with a compelling twist. The characters are gripping although unreliable.
The main character is Meghan Michaels who is like any single mom, trying to find balance between working full time as an ICU nurse and being a doting mother. Now one of her patients, Caitlin Beckett, is in a coma with traumatic brain injury. As the story goes on authorities begin to question if she suicidally jumped from a bridge or was pushed.
Then there is Natalie (Nat) Cohen who Meghan runs into on the street. Nat was a high school classmate. After noticing a huge bruise on Nat’s face and having experience with abuse Meghan is worried and invites Nat to stay with her and her daughter Sienna.
Also wanting to make sure her teenage daughter is safe Meghan becomes a formidable character. Although thoughtful and caring she can become a “mama bear” if someone in her family is threatened.
As the story unveils readers see Meghan as strong but someone who has secrets that need to be kept. This is what compels readers to not want to put the book down.
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Author Interview
Elise Cooper: Did you have the idea for the ending or the plot first?
Mary Kubica: I started with the twist first, which is unusual for me. I have a starting point and no idea where I am going with it. With this one the twist came first and then I stepped backwards and created the characters to go with it, building up to it.
EC: Comas played a role in the book?
MK: I did not know anyone who has been in a coma, but I did quite a bit of research. This book has a medical setting and there was a patient in a coma. I am also very fortunate to have several friends who are nurses, some ICU nurses. There is nothing like speaking to someone who knows the information and lives in that world. I asked them some very specific questions including the day-to-day experience of being a nurse. I wanted a couple of nurses to read the book after it was finished for accuracy.
EC: How would you describe the daughter Sienna?
MK: A typical sixteen-year-old girl. My daughter would have been the same age at the time I started writing this book. She is a little sassy, defiant, and likes to push the boundaries. She and her mother Meghan have a great relationship. They are close. She is obviously not shy and speaks her mind.
EC: How would you describe Meghan?
MK: I think characters will find her relatable. As a mother she puts her daughter first: Sienna’s happiness and safety. She has recently gone through a divorce and is trying to find her footing. Being a nurse and having to work she is trying to find the right balance between being a solo parent and working mom. She is very empathetic. But will do anything to protect those she loves. She is compassionate, guarded, and tough.
EC: What role did Nat play in the story?
MK: Meghan remembers her as a high school friend. She thought she knew her more than she did. She felt safe with her because Nat was someone she grew up with. Because she went through this divorce, she feels isolated, desperate, and alone so she confides in her a deep secret.
EC: How did you come up with the prologue scene at the beginning of the book?
MK: This was not the first thing I wrote. I knew I wanted to start something out with a bang that would grip the readers. As a parent the idea of someone taking their child is every parent’s worst nightmare.
EC: I never heard of virtual kidnapping, is it true?
MK: Sadly, this is prevalent these days. It is a way to get money even though there was never a kidnapping. They do not have that person.
EC: Would you have paid the money straight out?
MK: I do not know. This is one of the things I would bring up in my books. What would the reader do? Thankfully, most of us have never been in this situation. But if I thought someone had my child and had a short time to pay this ransom, I might have done it.
EC: Role of Caitlin?
MK: She is the patient in the ICU and unconscious. Because she cannot speak the readers get information from her parents, the Becketts. They reveal more and more about her over time. The more we learn about her, the less we like her. In the beginning Meghan bonds with Mrs. Beckett because they are both mothers who care so much about their daughters.
EC: Next book?
MK: I just started it so no title and no release date. It is another suspense novel. This has a new setting, the North Woods of Wisconsin. Two families go on vacation together and bad things start to happen.
THANK YOU!!
***
BIO: Elise Cooper has written book reviews and interviewed best-selling authors since 2009. Her reviews have covered several different genres, including thrillers, mysteries, women’s fiction, romance and cozy mysteries. An avid reader, she engages authors to discuss their works, and to focus on the descriptions of their characters and the plot. While not writing reviews, Elise loves to watch baseball and visit the ocean in Southern California, with her dog and husband.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE LEOPARD OF CAIRO (Apex Predator Espionage Thrillers Book #1) by Bayard and Holmes on this Author Marketing Experts Blog Tour.
Below you will find a guest post from the authors, a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book, and the authors’ bios and social media links. Enjoy!
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Guest Post from the Authors
As Bayard & Holmes, we are known for accuracy in our espionage tradecraft. This is due to Jay Holmes’s fifty years of military and intelligence experience fighting against the Soviets and the terrorist groups they sponsored during the Cold War, straight through to the current Global War on Terror. As a result of our experience and authenticity, people like to ask us questions about the shadow world.
One of the common questions we receive is, “What are some of the most common mistakes writers make about the CIA?” The answer to that would be vocabulary.
Our espionage professionals at the CIA do not refer to themselves as spies. The word “spy” is considered a bit derogatory. As Holmes says, “Spying is seamy. It’s what the Russians do.” Technically, spies are foreigners who are spying on us, or they are foreigners who are spying on other countries for us.
Also, and this is a big one for the folks at the CIA, the intelligence personnel at the Agency are not “CIA agents.” In the world of the CIA, agents are people, most often foreigners, who are spying for our behalf on their own or other foreign governments.
The exceptions to that rule are the actual guards at the physical facilities. For example, if you were to go to headquarters, the personnel in security who would greet you at the gate are “CIA agents.” An easy rule of thumb is that if the position someone holds regards law enforcement, physical protection, or facilities security, they are agents.
In other words, Jack Ryan is not a CIA agent, but the guard he talks to at the front gate of headquarters is an agent, and the foreign spy who gives him information is an agent.
Instead of being spies or agents, our intelligence personnel are referred to as “officers” and “operatives.” Intelligence personnel at the CIA are technically called officers, which is a label particular to the CIA. CIA officers are actual employees of the CIA rather than contractors, and they get pretty touchy when you call them agents.
The term operative can apply to CIA officers and contractors, as well as to personnel from other civilian and military intelligence organizations. The term is rather vague and has no official definition, but it generally refers to men and women who work in field operations.
So to sum things up, Jack Ryan is not a spy or an agent, he is a CIA officer who must guard against foreign spies, collect intelligence from foreign agents, and sometimes goes into the field with operatives.
This is just one example of the accuracy that is the hallmark of our Bayard & Holmes fiction. To supplement, we have a Truth & Fiction section at the end of The Leopard of Cairo and all our novels, and we are happy to take your questions about the shadow world at the Contact page at our website, BayardandHolmes.com.
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Book Summary
John Viera left his CIA fieldwork hoping for a “normal” occupation and a long-awaited family, but when a Pakistani engineer is kidnapped from a top-secret US project and diplomatic entanglements tie the government’s hands, the Intelligence Community turns to John and his team of ex-operatives to investigate — strictly off the books. They uncover a plot of unprecedented magnitude that will precipitate the slaughter of millions.
From the corporate skyscrapers of Montreal to the treacherous alleys of Baluchistan, these formidable enemies strike, determined to create a regional apocalypse and permanently alter the balance of world power. Isolated in their knowledge of the impending devastation, John and his network stand alone between total destruction and the Leopard of Cairo.
THE LEOPARD OF CAIRO (Apex Predator Espionage Thrillers Book #1) by Bayard and Holmes is an edge-of-your-seat international espionage thriller with storytelling that pulls you into exotic locations and takes you on a thrilling adventure to stop a plot to change the world’s governments balance of power. This is the first book in the series, and I cannot wait to get started on book #2, The Panther of Baracoa.
John Viera has left the CIA to start a “normal” life, but occasionally gets called back into off-the-book operations with a team of other ex-operatives who are able to accomplish jobs the government legally or politically cannot. John and the team are sent to discover why an engineer and his young daughter have been kidnapped, but what they discover is just the tip of the iceberg in a conspiracy that could end up killing millions.
This plot never lets up on the action and peril. The authors are able to introduce you to many characters, both good and bad, while never losing the fast pace of the story and also surprising you with the many plot twists throughout. John Viera and the rest of the team are fully developed both in their personal lives and their contributions to the team. The intrigue and mystery of the shadow cabal is a great way to keep me hooked and ready to grab the next book in the series.
I highly recommend this exciting start to this international espionage thriller!
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Excerpt
THE LEOPARD OF CAIRO
John Viera jumped back from the swirl of soot. The bright green-and-blue Quetta city bus choked out another cloud, and a donkey beside it snorted, rattling its cart full of secondhand housewares. The vendor in the driver’s seat searched the crowd for one last customer. John ignored his hopeful glance and watched the bus chug deeper into the bowels of the Hazara Town market district.
The aroma of fresh bread sweetened the stench of exhaust that hung over the rush-hour crunch. John ducked into the bakeshop’s recessed doorway and scanned the street.
Bright paints battled vainly to beautify cement walls between dirty gray roll-down metal shop doors. Signs above the portals broadcast goods and trades in Urdu and English, revealing the creep of Westernization into the Islamic stronghold. Above John’s head, electrical wires crisscrossed, tying the one- and two-story structures together.
Vendors bustled to secure their wares in time for evening prayers. Mothers gripping plain cloth shopping bags herded children down sidewalks while bicycles competed with cars and donkey carts for street rights. None of them appeared to notice John. Western influence was widespread enough that he did not stand out with his collar-length umber hair, reddish beard, blue jeans, and khaki jacket.
Satisfied there were no immediate threats from the street, he glanced at his watch: 5:45. Martin would be waiting. John exited the bakery doorway and continued in the bus’s wake.
A bicyclist veered into traffic, and a truck swerved and jerked, cutting off a rusty sedan. The sedan’s horn blared. John flinched and pressed his hand to his ear.
¡Hostias! ¡Qué idiotas! He wished for a split second that he was still crouched in the mountains of Afghanistan, where he was sanctioned by the US government to capture or kill hostile actors, or at least to slam their heads in their car doors. In the city, though, he was constrained by rules of law and discretion. John quelled his irritation and strode to the corner.
He crossed with the light and visualized the remainder of his route to Martin’s. His MI6 counterpart had said his good-byes only a few weeks before, anticipating the welcoming women and rich cigars he would explore at his new post in Cuba. What ill wind could have blown the man from paradise back to hell so soon? Had he identified the mole in MI6? John picked up his pace.
An open truck shoved past, its load of sheep bleating protests through warped wooden slats, stinking of mud and hay. John wrinkled his nose. A block up the street, the truck spun a U-turn through an unlikely gap in the traffic and parked in front of a restaurant.
The bus ahead of John stopped at the corner across from the sheep. Passengers crowded on. Then a shopkeeper stepped from his corner store and threw his arms wide. The bus driver sprang to the sidewalk. The men clasped in a hug and submerged into conversation.
A fresh-faced woman in a pink hijab and sky-blue kameez veered around the talking driver, a little boy in tow. The child hugged a toy blow-up horse and grinned as if he clutched the Koh-i-Noor diamond. John gave the boy a smile when he passed.
Suddenly, three men in gray kameez tunics and salwar trousers burst around the opposite street corner. John’s head snapped up, drawn by their speed and focus. They stopped and scanned the crowd. One pointed toward the truckload of sheep and then pulled a pistol and fired.
John dove behind a parked car and drew his Makarov pistol from his waistband. Fight or flight? He stilled his urge to fire back. The last thing he needed was to become embroiled in a local turf war, particularly so near Martin’s. He only hoped his friend was not involved. He had to get to Martin.
More shots. Horns blared, and cars crowded one another to escape. The bus driver levitated into his vehicle. He threw it into gear and bullied his way around the corner. People who had sheltered behind the bus scrambled toward shops, even as shopkeepers slammed down their corrugated metal doors. Only two people weren’t moving—the child with the toy horse kneeling beside the woman in the pink hijab.
Blood seeped across her shoulder and rib cage. She gestured toward a shop with her good arm and shouted in Urdu. “Run. Now. Run.” The child burrowed closer.
John shoved his pistol in his waistband and charged to the woman. He swept her up and spoke to the boy in Urdu. “Follow us.” He sprinted toward a spice stall. The child dropped the horse and dogged John’s heels. The shopkeeper met John’s eyes, shook his head, and crashed down his metal door.
A bullet whizzed past and shattered a divot from the cement wall. John ducked away from the flying chips. The woman in his arms screamed, and her gaze sought her son. The boy tugged the end of her kameez and let go.
“Here,” cried a voice.
The bus driver’s friend crouched, holding open a slice of doorway at his corner shop. John ran, the boy beside him. The man rolled up the door to let them in and then slammed it down behind them.
Frightened people shuffled aside, and John laid the woman on the floor. Bright red oozed from her shoulder, shading her blue kameez a deep purple. She gripped her arm close and grimaced. John whipped off his jacket, peeled out of his T-shirt, and pressed the cotton against the wound.
The woman groaned. “Hakeem. Where is Hakeem?”
“I have him.” A man pushed forward and showed her the child in his arms. “He is unharmed.”
John spotted the shopkeeper. “Call an ambulance, and bring some towels.”
“We don’t have towels,” the man said. A woman with her hands full of T-shirts pushed past him.
“We can use these. I’m a nurse.” She knelt beside John. “I will care for her.”
“Thank you.” John moved out of the woman’s way and turned to the store owner. “Where is your bathroom?”
The man pointed to a door at the back of the store. John wedged through the people and opened it onto a reeking closet where a window gaped wide above a hole in the ground with a footprint on each side. He pulled himself through the window into an alley, and he landed on his feet and ran.
Three blocks later, he slowed to a walk. A knife vendor gawked and John glanced down. His blood-smeared jacket hung open, revealing his bare six-pack. He zipped up the coat.
A block away, a sign reading Changezi’s tilted across the street front of a three-story cement apartment building. In front, a white panel van purred to life and whisked away as John crossed the street. John circled toward Changezi’s dwelling at the back of the building. He turned the corner and froze.
Changezi’s goat pen hung open, and his three nannies clustered at his front door. John’s skin prickled. Even Changezi’s youngest child would not be so careless with such valuable property. He drew his pistol and shooedthe goats the five steps into the pen. Then he knocked at the manager’s door. Silence answered—a sound unprecedented from a home with two wives and five young children.
John bounded up the steps to Martin’s old apartment door. A bullet hole gaped next to the doorknob, and splinters littered the ground. His heart racing, he hugged the wall, pistol in hand, and tried the knob. The door swung wide. More silence.
He ducked low and peeked around the corner into the apartment’s shadowed hallway. Nothing. He crept up the passage to the living room.
A threadbare divan squatted under a window next to a weathered table that had been tipped sideways. Two straight-backed chairs stood by an upended bowl with two apples on the floor.
“Come out,” John said.
A man rose, his hands up. His gaze riveted to the bloodstains on John’s jacket, and his knees quivered. “Don’t shoot. I have a wife and child. Please.” A woman in a navy-blue headscarf peered from behind him. She clutched a bundle in her arms.
John lowered his weapon slightly. “I’m looking for a man named Martin. He’s English. My height and build. Blond hair and blue eyes. Have you seen him?”
The man’s eyes grew wide. He shook his head. “I saw nothing.”
John dropped his pistol to his side. “I don’t even need to know your name. What happened, and did you see him?”
“Nothing. Nothing happened.”
The woman’s glance darted from John to her husband and back. Then she lowered her eyes and stared at the child in her arms.
“It’s clear a bullet came through that door recently. I’m not with whoever did that. I only want to find my friend.” John retrieved an apple from the floor and settled into a chair with the manner of an overlord. “I can see something happened here, and I’m not leaving until you tell me.” He raised the apple to take a bite.
“Wait,” the man said.
John moved the apple away from his mouth and cocked his head.
“I saw a blond man in the hallway. I was taking out my trash, and he ran out of the flat next door. He jumped down the rubbish chute. Then three men ran up the stairs and started shooting. I barely made it back inside.”
John stood. “Have you seen these men before?”
“Never.”
“What did they look like?”
The man shifted and glanced toward the door, as if expecting the men to reappear. His voice was barely audible. “Black hair and gray clothing. That is all I saw.”
John’s mind flashed on the shooters at the market, and dark fear unfolded. He tossed the unbitten apple to the man. “Thank you.”
He readied his Makarov and stole from the apartment. The next door slanted ajar. Standing against the wall, John reached out and tapped it. It creaked open. A sharp whiff of bleach wafted into the hallway. He peered inside.
Chaos. A table skewed sideways, kitchen drawers dangled, and stuffing sprouted from chair cushions. No sign of Martin. John scanned the debris and noticed a minute red spot on the carpet. He knelt down and touched it. Then he sniffed. The iron tang of blood filled his nostrils.
John bolted down the stairs to the trash room. A red trail spotted from the Dumpster to the back door and stopped. A chill ran up his spine. He combed the alley. It was empty—no one and no clues. Martin was gone.
***
Author Bios
Piper Bayard is an author and a recovering attorney with a college degree or two. She is also a belly dancer and a former hospice volunteer. She has been working daily with her good friend Jay Holmes for the past decade, learning about foreign affairs, espionage history, and field techniques for the purpose of writing fiction and nonfiction. She currently pens espionage nonfiction and international spy thrillers with Jay Holmes, as well as post-apocalyptic fiction of her own.
Jay Holmes is a forty-five-year veteran of field espionage operations with experience spanning from the Cold War fight against the Soviets, the East Germans, and the various terrorist organizations they sponsored to the present Global War on Terror. He is unwilling to admit to much more than that. Piper is the public face of their partnership.
Together, Bayard & Holmes author non-fiction articles and books on espionage and foreign affairs, as well as fictional international spy thrillers. They are also the bestselling authors of The Spy Bride from the Risky Brides Bestsellers Collection and were featured contributors for Social In Worldwide, Inc.
When they aren’t writing or, in Jay’s case, busy with “other work,” Piper and Jay are enjoying time with their families, hiking, exploring back roads of America, talking foreign affairs, laughing at their own rude jokes until the wee hours, and questing for the perfect chocolate cake recipe.
