Blood on the Tracks by Barbara Nickless

By Barbara Nickless

A tender lady is located brutally murdered, and the most suspect is the victim’s fiancé, a hideously scarred Iraq conflict vet referred to as the blistered guy. yet railroad police specific Agent Sydney Rose Parnell, introduced in by way of the Denver significant Crimes unit to aid examine, cannot shake the sensation that greater forces are in the back of this obvious crime of passion.

In the depths of an icy iciness, Parnell and her K9 associate, Clyde―both haunted by way of their time in Iraq―descend into the underground global of a savage gang of rail riders. There, they discover a wide-reaching conspiracy and a sequence of surprising crimes. Crimes that threaten every little thing Parnell holds dear.

As the hunt for the reality places her without delay within the course of the killer, Parnell needs to fight with a perilous query: Can she struggle monsters with out changing into one herself?

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Blood on the Tracks

A tender girl is located brutally murdered, and the most suspect is the victim’s fiancé, a hideously scarred Iraq struggle vet often called the blistered guy. yet railroad police specific Agent Sydney Rose Parnell, introduced in by way of the Denver significant Crimes unit to assist examine, cannot shake the sensation that greater forces are at the back of this obvious crime of ardour.

Extra resources for Blood on the Tracks

Example text

Didn’t know what to do with myself. I missed the order. The adrenaline. The sense of larger purpose. War is a drug; it’ll call you back until it kills you. —Corporal Sydney Rose Parnell. Denver Post. January 13, 2010. The sky had lowered when Nik and I emerged from his house. Slow, fat flakes fell and melted on the asphalt. The air was raw.

I’ll tell him,” Nik said quietly, just before his son walked into the kitchen. Gentry Lasko, Nik and Ellen Ann’s golden child. The center of their universe, for whom they’d sacrificed everything to put him through law school. Brilliant, cheerful, with a tall and sturdy build, Gentry was the kind of guy who took over a room just by walking in. A handsome brute—as he called himself—who’d e-mailed me every day while I was in Iraq and earned my undying love for it. I stood to hug him. “Syd! ” He hauled me into a bear hug then pulled away and kissed both my cheeks.

Didn’t know what to do with myself. I missed the order. The adrenaline. The sense of larger purpose. War is a drug; it’ll call you back until it kills you. —Corporal Sydney Rose Parnell. Denver Post. January 13, 2010. The sky had lowered when Nik and I emerged from his house. Slow, fat flakes fell and melted on the asphalt. The air was raw.

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