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 – Chapter Twenty Three – by Robert W. Walker

Book World: Dead On – Chapter Twenty Two by Robert W. Walker

  Robert W. Walker’s DEAD ON   Chapter NINETEEN   The children had abandoned Paco for their mother instead; Nora hugged her little ones to her where they huddled at…

  Robert W. Walker’s DEAD ON Chapter SEVENTEEN   Now is the time for all good men to come to the aide of their country, Marcus Rydell thought where he…

“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.

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.

  DEAD ON By Robert W. Walker   Chapter ELEVEN   Rydell’s dropping in on crime scenes was nothing new, so showing up at this particular one surprised no one…

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.

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.”