New York Times bestseller Tami Hoag is at the top of her form in her newest thriller, blending unforgettable characters, breakneck suspense, and chilling twists. It is the story of two hard-boiled cops who dare to cross the thin and dangerous line that separates good and evil as they risk their lives to investigate the suspicious death of one of their own.
Sorry. The single word was written on the mirror. In front of it hung the body of Andy Fallon, a Minneapolis Internal Affairs cop. Was it suicide? Or a kinky act turned tragic accident? Either way, his death wasn't a crime. The investigation will be a formality, a duty that veteran Homicide detective Sam Kovac isn't looking forward to. He doesn't want to spend any more time than he has to in the bleak, empty world of the victim's father, Iron Mike, Kovac's old mentor and a department legend. It's too much like looking into his own future. But Kovac has a sixth sense for crime, and it's burning.
Together with his partner, the wisecracking, ambitious Nikki Liska, Kovac begins to dig at the too-neat edges of Fallon's death, uncovering one motive and one suspect after another. The shadows of suspicion fall deeply not only on the city's power elite, but into the very heart of the police department itself.
But Fallon's death has been officially ruled an accident, and the department brass want the case to go away. Iron Mike, gunned down in the line of duty twenty years earlier and forced to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair, has suffered enough, they say. They would much rather have the publicity spotlight remain on their latest legend, retiring Captain Ace Wyatt, who is headed for the bright lights of Hollywood.
Unfortunately, neither Kovac nor Liska believe Fallon died by his own hand--accidentally or otherwise. As the case unfolds, it seems more and more likely that his death is somehow tied to his work. The question is whether he was killed for a case two months old--the murder of a gay patrol officer--or a case twenty years closed--the one that left his father a paraplegic and made Ace Wyatt a hero.
As Kovac and Liska dig deeper, they find their careers and lives on the line, because a killer wants the truth left dead and buried. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.
"They oughta hang the son of a bitch came up with this shit," Sam Kovac groused, digging a piece of nicotine gum out of a crumpled foil pack.
"The gum or the wrapper?"
"Both. I can't open the damn package and I'd rather chew on a cat turd."
"And that would taste different from a cigarette how?" Nikki Liska asked.
They moved through a small throng of people in the wide white hall. Cops heading out onto the steps of the Minneapolis city hall for a cigarette, cops coming back in from having a cigarette, and the odd citizen looking for something for their tax dollar.
Kovac scowled down at her from the corner of one eye. Liska made five-five by sheer dint of will. He always figured God made her short because if she had the size of Janet Reno she'd take over the world. She had that kind of energy--and attitude out the wazoo.
"What do you know about it?" he challenged.
"My ex smoked. Lick an ashtray sometime. That's why we got divorced, you know. I wouldn&...
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