en
Jeff Lindsay

Tropical Depression

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A disillusioned ex-cop is drawn back into danger in this “rock-solid series debut” by the New York Times–bestselling author of the Dexter novels (Booklist).
When a hostage situation turns deadly, Billy Knight loses everything—his wife, his daughter, and his career in law enforcement. Devastated, he heads to Key West to put down his gun and pick up a rod and reel as a fishing boat captain. But former co-worker Roscoe McAuley isn’t ready to let Billy rest.
When Roscoe tells Billy that his son was the victim of premeditated murder during the riots following the Rodney King trial, Billy sends him away. When Roscoe himself turns up dead a few weeks later, however, Billy can’t keep from getting sucked back into Los Angeles, and the streets that took so much from him.
Billy’s investigations into the death of a former cop, and his son, will take him up to the highest echelons of the LAPD, finding corruption at every level. It puts him on a collision course with the law, with his past, with his former fellow officers, and with the dark aftermath of the civil rights movement—in a case with more dangerous blind curves than Mulholland Drive.
“Sustains a high level of excitement, capped by a stunning climax, and introduces a smoothly characterized cast, especially Billy, with his gallows humor.” —Publishers Weekly
Denne bog er ikke tilgængelig i øjeblikket
299 trykte sider
Oprindeligt udgivet
2015
Udgivelsesår
2015

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  • b6997889179har citeretfor 2 år siden
    was standing on the dock at City Marina as I came in. He still stood there beside the ice machine as I eased into my slip, tied up, and wound up business with the day’s charter.

    I’d been fishing that day with a guy in his forties who ran a machine shop in Rochester and couldn’t talk about anything except the Buffalo Bills. It had been an okay charter—very good, in fact, if you just wanted a chance to get away from the wife and talk about football the way this guy did. We’d hit into a few permits on the flats south of Woman Key. We got one good jump out of a tarpon, a big one. My guy had been so flabbergasted by the size and majesty of the fish he’d forgotten to bow to it and the line had snapped. That happens maybe four times out of five, but he didn’t seem to mind

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