Book World: DEAD ON by Robert W. Walker – Chapter Twenty-Five

After some time passed, and as Marcus felt surer and surer that Cantu was planning some sort of frontal attack, he kept watchful vigilance, going from one side of the house to the other, one window to the other. As he did so, Kat followed him about, and the couple soon began to talk again as she had complimented his scoped Bushmaster Varmint Special as he called it. “Five in the chamber,” she said again, “but I see the size of the rounds’re huge, and you’re right, of course, she’s a real beauty.”

Book World: DEAD ON by Robert W. Walker Chapter Fourteen

“From what JT told me, and from what I could see, the head and limbs were bound by yards and yards of heavy medical tape to tuck everything into the center at the torso. Hung up like a side of beef. Only thing keeping the flies off was the smoke.” Marcus had decided to leave no detail out; she needed to fear this man with every fiber of her being.

Book World: DEAD ON – Chapter Thirteen

As he approached over the water in the small excursion craft, Rydell wondered how much to tell Katrina. He’d seen the house come into view and seeing her standing out on the deck overlooking the lake, he felt like the proverbial husband sneaking in after a night of carousing. Surely, he faced her wrath.

Book World: DEAD ON Chapter Nine

Lately, Marcus felt the night terrors, the panic attacks, like an anvil on his chest, until the thoughts of suicide came on. Not tonight, not here. For one, he was too exhausted to think any thoughts, logical, illogical, or otherwise. Secondly, he felt something going on inside he hadn’t expected or felt for years—a growing sense of injury, pain, injustice that’d been meted out to him, alongside a renewed sense of purpose. A feeling he’d forgotten.

Book World: DEAD ON – Chapter Seven

Some time had passed when Kat Holley ordered an appetizer. “Haven’t eaten all day…feeling a bit light-headed.”

“Win on an empty stomach.” He nursed his near black beer. Silence thickened like hardening concrete between them until he added, “Look, Doctor, playing marionette in his game could get us both killed.”

“I realize he’s calling the shots right now but—”

“Calling th shots. Sweetheart, this murdering creep is weaseling his way around the corners of your life.”

“Get smart, Detective. He’s playing games with us both.”

Book World: DEAD ON Chapter Five

O’Dule’s bar and bistro stood like an invitingly cozy, ivy-laden, green painted Irish drawbridge at the bottom of a large brownstone castle—welcoming at the base of an older structure with pinnacles and spiral outcroppings, missing only the gargoyles. The building had character, the character of the sixties, but like Rydell’s building down the street, it’d been slated for eventual knock-down. Another mall was needed. And while the wrecking ball might take a year, it would find O’Dule’s, despite the sad hue and cry of old-time patrons. Blind as a wrecking ball had become the battle cry of the opposition in op-ed pieces in the Atlanta Constitution. To be sure, a small but vocal minority favoring old Atlanta to new—the same group that stood against gambling casinos and urban renewal plans geared only to the tourism trade. The same group who preferred to say confound it instead of a four-letter word. Still, who could fight it? The New Look of ’Lanta with its own theme song, an old Disney favorite about blue birds and butterflies, peaches and sunshine? And jobs! Men at work, even women at work alongside illegals at work. Meanwhile the fat got fatter, rich richer—men of position and wealth made it so; men with deep pockets who laid out small fortunes on a media campaign blitz that proved Pavlov’s Dog was alive and well.