SHADOW DOCTORS
Atlanta X-Men Homicide Squad #3.5
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Peachtree Park and Tuxedo Park 30305. Virginia-Highland 30306. Affluent suburbs of the privileged and the wealthy. Residential real estate values and personal net worth that ranges from the ‘paltry’ hundreds of thousands and a few million to the tens of millions.
Hard workers. Professional careers. Savvy investors. Generational riches.
Homicide victims.
Before the career changing events of COLD LICK (2015), Sergeant Malcolm Hobbs and Detective Orlando Queen lead the X-Men Homicide Detective Squad in pursuit of a crafty and elusive enemy that leaves mysterious clues at crime scenes that baffle the elite investigators.
As Hobbs and Queen steer the unit’s investigation into the lives of the fatalities, patterns emerge and converge. The detectives race against time with an intense manhunt to stop the crimes, arrest the perpetrator behind them and save Atlanta’s prestigious inhabitants before their demise.
*FIVE STARS*
"This is an amazing mystery quick read that starts with a compelling beginning and definitely keeps you reading. I have never read this author previously but I have now checked out some his prior books and they all look as great as this book. Fast-paced, great characters, lots of action. I received a free copy of this book via Booksprout and am voluntarily leaving a review."
Pat Eroh/Goodreads
1
2700 Macon Drive
Lakewood Heights
Southeast Atlanta, GA
1:30 A.M.
Despite being gagged, the man screamed. It was a futile effort. He squirmed about with the overhead lights reflecting on the metal silver gurney. His arms and legs were leather strapped with big shiny steel buckles. The white male looked sixty-something with his short-cropped black hair mopped with sweat. His entire body resembled his hair. He continued to lick his trembling lips more in a nervous action than to dab any much-needed moisture for them. His brown eyes, wild with terror, attempted to defy the added strap that crossed over his forehead. Everything in his sight blurred. He continued blinking and stretching of his eyes.
Footsteps echoed in the semi-lit room. Gray cement block walls about ten feet high surrounded the scared man. At the head of the gurney, on both sides, and the foot of the table, four men stood stationary. The man at the head of the table studied the near hyperventilating man. The figures remained blurry.
“Randall Mark Joseph. Age sixty-seven, a native Georgian, birthplace Augusta, GA. Son of parents Reiss and Annabelle Joseph. Grandson of Robert and Lewellen Joseph. All four deceased. Doesn’t have to be your fate, Randall. We won’t keep you long. We only need one thing from you—” His right index finger shook in the air just above his nose and remained there. “One. Financial access to your bank accounts and investments.” The man removed the gag.
“That’s all you want?”
“Yes. But before you ask questions…”
Another indistinct shape appeared and wheeled a second gurney that ceased movement to the bound man’s left. He strained to glimpse, but his head fasteners restricted any movement.
“R-Randall?”
He about convulsed at the sound.
“Margaret? Margaret, is that you?”
“Oh, Randall! I can’t see too well. Are you here?”
“Right here. I’m right here, Margaret. I can’t see you either. Did they hurt you?”
A latex-gloved hand from the man at his head smothered Randall’s mouth to silence.
“No one has to get hurt. If you don’t comply with this one request that will change. For her. Is anything you’ve heard unclear, Randall?”
His breathing quickened but his head nodded in compliance.
“Don’t hurt my wife–”
That gloved hand silenced Randall once more.
“Good. Good. The effects of the drug will diminish and I have a series of phone calls I need for you to make. This is all so easy. Let’s keep it that way, okay?”
“Okay. Just please, she has nothing–”
This time, however, the gloved hand slammed over his lips with such force he shrieked, and Margaret joined him. The wheelman for her eased his latex-gloved hand over her mouth and muzzled her with head shaking for ‘no.’
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