Murder: Live and in Technicolor
Working undercover gives FBI Art Crime Team agent Jason West
the illusion that he’s safe from his stalker, Dr. Jeremy Kyser. Though film
history and preservation are not Jason’s area of expertise, he’s intrigued by
the case of a well-connected UCLA film studies professor whose family believes
she may have been murdered after discovering a legendary lost 1950s PI film.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, BAU Chief Sam
Kennedy gets disturbing news: the Roadside Ripper, the serial killer Sam
believes murdered his college boyfriend, may not have been working alone.
He didn’t sleep well.
Thirty-one stories up, the wind pushed against the floor-to-ceiling
windows and whispered outside the glass doors. Jason’s dreams went from bad to
worse, and he woke, heart pounding, drenched in sweat, with Jeremy Kyser’s
weird sing-songy, “Agent West?” ringing in his ears.
He knew where he was. Knew he was perfectly safe.
Yet it was all he could do not to reach for his Glock. All
he could do not to turn on a lamp. It turned into a battle of will, lying there
in the dark, listening to the building sway and moan. He was not going to give
into irrational fear. He was not going to let Kyser control his life. Not in
the big things. Not in the little things.
Which didn’t change the fact that he’d give a lot to know
where Kyser was right at this minute.
The important thing was he was not standing on the
balcony outside this room.
So…get a grip, West.
Jason punched his pillow and did what he usually did when he
couldn’t sleep. Well, one of the things he usually did. In this instance, it
was run over the details of his case.
He kept coming back to his victim.
The one thing everyone seemed to agree on was that Georgette Ono was difficult.
The other thing everyone—with the understandable exception
of Touchstone’s security team—agreed on was that it was almost as hard
to believe she’d accidentally killed herself as it was to believe she committed
suicide.
The problem was…
Well, there were a number of problems.
One, he was there to reassure the family, not reopen the
case. No one wanted a coverup. But there was also no expectation that Jason was
actually going to find anything. In fact, the expectation was the opposite.
If he actually reopened the case, turned it into an active
homicide investigation, there would be, at best, a mixed reception from his
superiors.
Two, even if he privately believed Ono was the victim of
homicide, he had no real suspect and no real motive.
Even if LAPD had failed to discover Ono’s allegedly
contentious relationship with Touchstone’s security—which seemed unlikely,
since the head of security apparently had no issue in sharing that info with
J.J.—it didn’t feel like enough of a motive.
Speculation was going to make it harder not easier on the
Ono family.
Three—and this had nothing to do with his case—he felt like
with each phone call, he and Sam were getting further apart. They were both
reasonably articulate, they both wanted this relationship to work, so what was
going on?
Was it just him or was it Sam too? He honestly wasn’t sure.
“Hell,” Jason muttered, and reached for his cell, peering at
the screen.
Just after two, which meant, Sam might be asleep. He tended to
crash around ten and be up and running—literally—by four. Jason tried not to
interrupt those few precious hours when Sam allowed himself the luxury of
turning off, but tonight…
Tonight, the distance between them was harder to take than
usual.
He struggled with himself for a minute or two, then pressed
Sam’s number.
Sam answered on the half-ring. “Hey.” He sounded wide awake;
his voice as soft as if they were lying facing each other. “Bad dreams?”
Jason let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was
holding. “No. I didn’t like the way we left things tonight.”
“Me neither.” No hesitation. It was like Sam had been lying
there thinking the same.
“The thing about trying to make this work long distance
is…not letting stuff pile up.”
He could feel Sam thinking that over. “What’s piling up,
Jason?”
Jason not West. Jason considered that demarcation.
Considered the careful gravity of Sam’s voice.
“I want to make sure you don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not
that I don’t—”
“Trust me?” Sam sounded dry.
“Yes. It’s not that I don’t trust you.”
“What is it then? Because there’s something.”
“It’s a fine line for both of us. That’s the lesson of
Montana. You’re not just another agent. You’re a unit chief. There are
potential conflicts.”
“That might hold water if you were in my unit.” No give. No
leeway.
“Okay, let’s call it priorities.”
Sam said crisply, “You’re my priority.”
Jason gave a shaky laugh. “Well, wait a minute, because
that’s not accurate. It’s not even the agreement we made. It’s not my
expectation.”
He could hear the shrug in Sam’s voice. “Nor was it mine,
but that’s the way it’s playing out.”
Did Sam really believe that? He was no liar, so yeah, he
believed what he was saying. But what he was saying was not an accurate
reflection of, well, you name it. It certainly didn’t reflect Jason’s
experience.
“Since when?”
Once again there was that uncharacteristic wry note in Sam’s
tone. “Probably since the morning you arrived at my hotel door barefoot, hair
dripping, hollering how dare I phone SAC Manning about your fitness for duty.”
At the time, they’d known each other less than twenty-four
hours. Now it felt like a million years ago.
“Hey, I never said how dare you.”
“Maybe not those exact words.” Sam actually sounded amused
at the memory. “You were highly offended.”
Was Sam really implying he’d started to fall for Jason the
morning after they’d met? For Jason, the awareness had been instant, the
attraction had followed against his better judgment, but once he’d fallen, he’d
acknowledged it, accepted it. Sam might have been interested and attracted, but
he had fought those feelings long and hard. So Jason couldn’t help feeling a
little skeptical.
Whatever it is you need, Jason, I’m probably not that
guy.
“As I recall, the agreement was work would always come first
for you and that I was willing to accept that for however long I could.”
“We all have our dreams,” Sam said. “That one fell by the
roadside a long time ago.”
He was being ironic, but yeah. True. There was no point in
rehashing ancient history. Sam had drawn the rules of engagement. Sam had also
been the first to break those rules.
======================================
So yes, The Movie-Town Murders is now live on Amazon, Smashwords, Google Books, and Barnes and Noble.
It's not yet live on iBooks or Kobo. I'll try to get that taken care of. It has to do with the fact that Smashwords requires the final file TEN DAYS AHEAD OF EVERYONE ELSE. And I fulfill iBooks and Kobo through Smashwords, so I end up having to push the dates on those two back. It's not ideal, and I have to come up with a better plan.
PRINT IS COMING. Probably over the weekend?
AUDIO is coming but I can't tell you when.
