Adams The Ghost Hunter

A Detective Ryan Jones Novel
1. Auflage 2017
ISBN: 978-1-5439-1471-9
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet/DL/kein Kopierschutz

E-Book, Englisch, 346 Seiten

Detective Jones is lured back from retirement to help stop the former CIA assassin known as the Ghost from terrorizing the Governor of Texas. As details emerge of the assassin's motives the conspiracies begin to unfold about the CIA and their involvement in the case. The mystery of who is ultimately responsible for the terror campaign against the Governor only thickens at every turn.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Adams, Chris

Leseproben

Thirteen
  Jones   As I’m driving down Old Settlers Road in route to IH35 to get back to the garage, Jim calls to tell me he’s finished with his golf game and plans to stop at Hoody’s Subs for a quick lunch. He asks if I want anything or if I’ve already eaten? Telling Jim I haven’t had lunch and I’m headed the same direction, I suggest we meet for a quick lunch. We agree on meeting in five minutes at the sub shop.   I move from the middle lane towards the right lane and exit ramp, taking exit 252 from interstate 35 southbound. On the service road I move into the right hand lane to turn onto RM 620. Crossing the railroad tracks I cut around a semi trailer hauling furnishings for someone moving into the area. I accelerate into the left lane passing 620 Hacienda Bar & Grill. The shopping center is on the left just across from Round Rock High School. Pulling into the parking lot of the shopping center I see Jim’s car in the back right of the lot. He is parked in front of the sub shop. I find a parking spot next to Jim and walk into the place only to be immediately bombarded by the loud noises of high school kids chatting across the small dining room.   I spot Jim sitting in a booth, three tables from the doorway on the right hand side as he signals he took the liberty of ordering for both of us. Skirting around the line of kids waiting their turn at the counter to order, I slide into the booth across from Jim. “Yeah I forgot all about the high school kids invading this place for lunch when I suggested we meet here.” Jim says as I sit down. “No worries. This gives us a chance to chat about a request I received today without anyone paying the least bit of attention to us.” I reply while glancing around at all the kids.   “Sounds interesting.” Jim replies. “Actually a bit more unsettling I would say.” In reply.   “Jim, order for Jim!” The young girl behind the counter yells out over the noise of the crowd. “I got it.” I say to Jim as I stand to go grab our sandwiches. Clutching the two sandwich baskets, I maneuver through the throng of students, making my way back to the booth.   Between bites, I recap my conversations with both Captain Williams and Ms. Vogel about her daughter’s stalker. Finishing up the details of the Vogel’s concerns and my reckless agreement to assist, Jim listens raptly and waits for me to complete my narrative before voicing his opinion.   “Is this stalker kid a ‘It rubs the lotion on its skin’ type of stalker or a ‘what does he have to do to make her love me’ kind?” Jim asks, as I laugh out loud at his Silence of the Lambs movie reference. “I’m not positive, but I think he’s probably more of a what do I have to do to make you love me type, and not the kind of stalker that wants to wear her skin as a mask.” I say back to Jim. “Sounds easy enough.” He replies in the calmest of tones. “Some punk kid needs to have the shit kicked out of him.” Jim says as a matter of fact.   As though it could be that simple I think to myself. Standing up from the booth and grabbing my trash I say to Jim. “Lets get the hell out of here before we get run over by the next wave of high school kids racing over to get a quick lunch.”   Back in my truck and sitting at the stoplight on RM 620 and Deep Wood Drive, I’m headed east towards our garage. Jim is a car length in front and to the left in the left lane in his supercharged Nova. Some kid is in the lane in front of me in a fairly new model Corvette. The kid, deciding to be reckless, rolls down his window and points at Jim while revving his engine, the classic taunt to initiate a drag race.   We’ve been in this situation many times before in our old vice days. Jim and I know exactly how to play it. Jim casually nods back to the kid in the Corvette as they wait for the light to turn green. The roadway ahead is clear for blocks in front of them. The second the light turns green, the Corvette takes off like a shot from a gun barrel. Jim casually accelerates from the intersection. I kick on the lights and siren in my truck chasing the Corvette as he’s quickly accelerating to over seventy-five miles per hour in the forty miles per hour zone.   I don’t normally deal with traffic violations in my role as a detective or even in my role as a homicide team consultant, but watching this kid try to drag race on a major roadway drives me insane. Especially, on a roadway that frequently has high school kids running across the four-lane street to the various fast food restaurants during their lunch breaks. The Corvette racer is pulling into the parking lot of the bank at the corner of Wyoming Springs and RM 620 with me tight on his tail. Jim has already radioed in the drag racer to dispatch from the radio we installed in his Nova.   From inside my truck, I can see that the driver is freaking out as I sit behind him and run his license plates through the database, so I decide to take my time and let him sweat it out a bit more. Waiting on results of the license plate search to pop up on the laptop screen, two patrol officers’ pull into the lot. The experts are here to save the day I say to myself as I grab my shield. I keep the chain wrapped around the badge as I show it to the two officers. I step out of the truck putting the badge back in my pocket before I begin to bring them up to speed on the violator in the Corvette.   ***   I’m back on the road and making a left on O’Conner Avenue just north of RM 620. The right side of the road is a new housing development that seems to be expanding more and more everyday. The left side of the road is what remains of a former ranch, only about three acres remain from the original T-Barr Ranch. Travis Barr, the original rancher left the land to his children in equal shares. His two daughters had slightly less interest in keeping the ranch than his son, if you can call all three of the children’s rapid race to sell the property as any type of interest at all.   The siblings quickly sold off the majority of the ranch to a developer who hoped to one day turn the land into a multi-purpose shopping center with a gym, a wholesale box store, a movie theater and divided retail space before he ended up going bankrupt in the real estate crash of 2008.   Southern Paws Pet Services purchased two acres of the twelve-acre lot owned by the developer. Southern Paws now owns the original ranch house, the horse stables, along with the property’s maintenance barn. The stables were converted into year round boarding spaces for animals, most of which are dogs.   The ranch house was repaired and remodeled by Taylor Turpin, an avid animal lover and owner of Southern Paws Pet Services. She sold the maintenance barn to Jim and I. Shortly afterwards, we made a few modifications that allowed us to adapt the barn into our garage workspace for building hot rods as well as a man cave and office for each of us.   I turn left into the driveway our garage shares with Southern Paws. As I pass the ranch house I see Chief Junior, otherwise referred to as CJ. He is Taylor’s Rhodesian ridgeback. CJ is lying on the wrap around porch near the front door. Jim and I have become fast friends with CJ who likes to hang out in the garage with us while we work. Taylor thinks her dog just comes down to check us out since he is her protector, but Jim and I haven’t shared with Taylor that we feed CJ beef jerky treats.   Seeing both Jim’s Nova and my truck pull into the driveway, CJ animatedly jumps up and races towards the converted maintenance barn, not in chase of our vehicles but in a clear path to beat us to the garage. I can tell by the look on Taylors face as she waves hello while we pass by, she knows based on CJ’s response to our arrival that something is up with our friendship. Since he usually starts barking at anyone turning down the drive, his display of excitement may have just busted us with his mom.   I pull up to the garage and park my truck on the right side front of the converted garage, as Jim pulls into the stall furthest to the right. My Chevy currently resides on the car lift in the middle stall. There is an office space on the left side that Jim and I converted into a man cave, which includes an office with two desks for research when we need to locate car parts. We also added a projector and a one hundred ten inch screen for watching television or movies, not to mention the frequent video game battles between the two of us.   As I step out of the truck CJ is at my door waiting for me. Handing him a small piece of jerky I hid in my pocket for such an occasion, he then races towards Jim to see what treats await for him there. Walking into the garage, I see Jim giving CJ a treat as I drop the brake pads and spark plug wires on the workbench in front of the lift my Chevy is resting on. Following Jim and CJ into our office space, Jim grabs a seat in one of the plush theatre style seats we installed and grabs the remote to turn on the television feature of the projector.   CJ curls up on the floor in front of the theatre chair Jim plops into, as I grab my MacBook from the desk and head towards the open theatre seat. Pulling up Google maps I search for the Vogel’s address to...