By
Carrie Harris
Genre:
Sci-fi, thriller, comedy
Book
description
Toledo
police detective Audrey Vorkink has a reputation for getting things
done. She might look like a middle-aged soccer mom (complete with
bobbed hair), but she works hard and unwinds even harder. One night,
as she’s meeting with her edgier-than-it-sounds knitting group, a
hit-and-run accident turns deadly right outside the building. But
something’s fishy about the missing driver, something
positively…inhuman.
Audrey can run down any criminal, but what if this one’s from another planet? Can she bring this bad guy to justice? Is she losing her mind? Will she ever manage to get a decent haircut?
Find out in this snarky police thriller meets extraterrestrials (maybe) by Carrie Harris, author of BAD TASTE IN BOYS and DEMON DERBY.
Audrey can run down any criminal, but what if this one’s from another planet? Can she bring this bad guy to justice? Is she losing her mind? Will she ever manage to get a decent haircut?
Find out in this snarky police thriller meets extraterrestrials (maybe) by Carrie Harris, author of BAD TASTE IN BOYS and DEMON DERBY.
Book
excerpt:
“Get
your hands off me, soccer mom!” Demetrious White yelled as I closed
the handcuffs over his wrists.
My
partner, Detective Ronda Ross, let out a snort of amusement without
moving from her spot flanking my left shoulder. Her gun remained
steady, trained on the grimy floor of the porch just shy of the
perp’s feet. I muffled a snicker. Out of all the insults I’d
heard in my almost twenty years on the force, “soccer mom” was my
favorite so far.
“You
have the right to remain silent,” I said, my voice wavering only
slightly with restrained laughter.
I
ran through the rest of Miranda at top speed. It wasn’t like White
hadn’t heard it before, and he wasn’t listening anyway. He was
too busy trying to get a rise out of me while I droned on about his
rights.
“Man,
you got nothin’. Why you gotta do me wrong, soccer mom?” he said.
When he got no reaction from that, he took a different tack. “I bet
you’re a killer in the sack. Maybe you and I could take a little
time in the backseat of the squad car. I got an anaconda I’d like
you to meet. Give you a little sump’n-sump’n, you get me?”
I
got him all right, but this wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard
before. By this time, I’d finished with the pleasantries and
started moving him toward our police issue sedan. I hated that car—it
looked like it should belong to a washed up G-man—but I was looking
forward to stashing White in the backseat so I could relax. The walk
of shame to the car was always a tense moment. Ronda was a fairly
solid woman, and I wasn’t exactly a waif, but most of the lowlifes
we arrested had us on size. White was no exception. If he was going
to make a break for it, this was the time.
As
if on cue, he lurched forward, trying to pull his arms out of my
grip.
“Let
me go, bitch!”
he shouted. “Fucking lesbian cop. Suck my dick!”
Strong-arming
him wasn’t going to work when he had about a hundred pounds on me,
so I didn’t try to wrestle him back into line. Instead, I gave the
chain between his wrists a sharp yank as he pulled away. End result:
he nearly yanked his own shoulders out of the sockets. Skinned his
wrists something fierce on the sharp metal too. He let out a yelp of
pain as all the fight went out of him. I shoved him the last few
steps to the car while he yowled about police brutality. It was a
relief to close the door behind him, although that only made him
shout louder.
“Well,
that escalated quickly,” observed Ronda, relaxing from her ready
stance. “Soccer mom.”
“Don’t
you start too,” I warned. “I’ll put you down.”
She
rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t take me if you invited the entire
nursing home as backup.”
“So
first I’m a soccer mom, and now I’m the leader of a geriatric
street gang?”
“What
can I say? You’re a woman of many talents, Audrey.”
“Now
you’re laying it on thiiiick.”
We
paused for a moment to grin at each other. It wasn’t so much about
the banter—that was fun and all—but more about the fact that we
felt good about this case. We’d built it up together,
brick-by-brick. We had physical evidence up the ying yang, all fully
documented and quintuple-checked. We had the murder weapon,
fingerprints, and DNA results. We had witnesses with statements that
almost agreed for once. No case was ever open and shut, but if
Demetrious White didn’t go down for the murder of Ronald Montrose,
I was going to eat my shoes. It felt good. Almost good enough to
distract me from the cracks about my appearance. I’d just gotten my
hair cut, and so far, reactions hadn’t been what I’d hoped for.
As
we got into the car, I said, “And by the way, this is not soccer
mom hair at
all.”
About
the author
Carrie
Harris is an author and game designer by day and wannabe superhero by
night. When there are no words to write or villains to defeat, she
bakes monster themed cupcakes and mainlines caffeine like whoa.
Carrie lives in Utah with her husband and three children, where they
are secretly a super-team.
Learn
more about Carrie’s books for teens, tweens, and adults at
carrieharrisbooks.com.
Links:
Twitter: http://twitter.com/carrharr
Facebook: http://facebook.com/carrharr
Website: http://carrieharrisbooks.com
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LYGNRV5
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32320102-illegal-alien?ac=1&from_search=true
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