The Con Man's Daughter

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It took me a long time to get this story on paper and I owe several people for getting me back on track. First, the people at Warner and Mysterious Press: Kristen Weber; and Harvey-Jane Kowal for her infinite patience with my odd cop lingo; and especially Sara Ann Freed whose encouragement and belief meant everything. To Peter Grinenko, a great friend since our days in the NYPD's Auto Crime Division, who guided me through the back streets of Brighton Beach. His knowledge and insight into Russian Organized Crime were invaluable. To my daughters, Brenda and Pat, who were die kind of hilarious rugrats whose wacky exploits provide die heart and joy. Finally, my wife, Nancy, who reads each book more times than anyone should have to read anything, for being crazy enough to live with a cop who became a writer.

Monday, April 6, 1998

7:25 A.M.

The sins of Eddie Dunne's past returned on a cold morning in April, more than four years after he'd turned his life around. The fifty-four-year-old ex-boxer and former cop was walking his granddaughter to school when he spotted a black BMW moving slowly behind them. Every few yards, it swung in behind parked cars and waited while Eddie and Grace strolled a few steps farther down the steep incline of Roberts Avenue. But the driver was far too anxious, twice creeping to within a block of them. Close enough for Eddie to hear the engine tick. Eddie Dunne knew an amateur tail job when he saw one.

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