Face of a Killer

Начало книги

Sydney Fitzpatrick eyed the bottle of scotch, watched the bartender pour the amber liquid into her glass, and wondered how much of it she’d have to drink to forget it had been twenty years since her father had been killed.

“Leave the bottle,” she told the bartender.

“Don’t think so.”

“You’re only going to have to come back.”

“Maybe,” he said, returning the whiskey to its place among the other bottles, all backlit, shining, each advertising its own brand of panacea.

All false advertising, she thought, finishing her second shot. She would’ve ordered a third-except her cell phone started vibrating an alert.

Only one sort of call comes in at one in the morning, never mind that Sydney recognized the number: her boss, Dave Dixon. “Fitzpatrick,” she announced into the phone. “And I’m supposed to have the day off.”

“ Day being the operative word. It’s dark out, which makes it night, which you didn’t request off.”

Читать дальше →