Heat WaveHyperion, 29.9.2009 - 198 sivua A New York real estate tycoon plunges to his death on a Manhattan sidewalk. A trophy wife with a past survives a narrow escape from a brazen attack. Mobsters and moguls with no shortage of reasons to kill trot out their alibis. And then, in the suffocating grip of a record heat wave, comes another shocking murder and a sharp turn in a tense journey into the dirty little secrets of the wealthy. Secrets that prove to be fatal. Secrets that lay hidden in the dark until one NYPD detective shines a light. Mystery sensation Richard Castle, blockbuster author of the wildly best-selling Derrick Storm novels, introduces his newest character, NYPD Homicide Detective Nikki Heat. Tough, sexy, professional, Nikki Heat carries a passion for justice as she leads one of New York City's top homicide squads. She's hit with an unexpected challenge when the commissioner assigns superstar magazine journalist Jameson Rook to ride along with her to research an article on New York's Finest. Pulitzer Prize-winning Rook is as much a handful as he is handsome. His wise-cracking and meddling aren't her only problems. As she works to unravel the secrets of the murdered real estate tycoon, she must also confront the spark between them. The one called heat. |
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... there, she noted that the café umbrellas and the stone walls of the building also wore dried blood, ice spatter, and bits of tissue. She got as close to the wreckage as she dared without contaminating the scene and looked straight up ...
... there.” “Oh, jeez...,” said Ochoa. He winced and the sweat bead clinging to the tip of his nose fell onto her page. “Listen to me. I know to you this is just another crime scene, right? But for that family in there, it's the only one ...
... there are some questions I'm going to need to ask.” “I understand.” Again, the waif voice, measured, remote, and what else? Heat wondered. Yes, proper. Heat uncapped her pen. “Were you or your son here when it happened?” “No, thank God ...
Richard Castle. “Matt did not kill himself, don't even go there.” Her demure, preppy composure vaporized in a flare of anger. “Mrs. Starr, we just want to cover all—” “Don't! My husband loved me and our son. He loved life. He was ...
... there,” called the doorman, pointing toward Columbus. “Mrs. Starr!” Heat followed his gaze to the corner, where a large man gripped Kimberly Starr by the shoulders and jammed her against a store window. It thundered on impact but did ...