By James Patterson
Think a killer who thinks, "What is the worst factor an individual has ever done?"--and then is going a long way past it. Now think 4 ladies --a police detective, an assistant DA, a reporter, and a medical expert --who sign up for forces as they avert their bosses to trace down criminals. referred to as the Women's homicide membership, they're pursuing a assassin whose twisted mind's eye has surprised a complete urban. Their leader suspect is a socially admired author, however the males responsible won't contact him. at the path of the main terrifying and unforeseen killer ever, they find a stunning shock that turns every little thing concerning the case the other way up.
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Extra info for 1st to Die (Women's Murder Club, Book 1)
He dropped the second bag, which had no tag, next to it. It was the second that he unzipped. He pulled two hard plastic black gun cases and two side holsters from it. He opened the first and took out a SIG Sauer 226. He clicked a fresh twelve-round clip into it and checked it over. He repeated the same procedure with the second 226. Then he closed the cases, zipped up the bag, shut the rear door and got back into the front passenger seat. The guns had been purchased from a contact Ty had in El Paso, a dealer who didn’t care whom he sold to as long as the money was good.
They were a local company, reliable and safe. The cab ride took ten minutes and she was glad she had the phone number because now she had no idea where she was in relation to the hotel. She was just starting to regret her adventure when she noticed him sitting at the bar. American. Bearded, tanned and slim. He was older but not too old – and he was handsome. Like, really handsome. Sitting next to her at the bar, Charlie Mendez had been wary at first. There had been no Americans in the place when he had arrived and definitely no young American women, never mind one who was on her own.
It was one of those things you said yes to, then immediately regretted, but it was done. And how bad could it be, right? It was only a week, and as a family they liked Mexico. It was strange and foreign without being overly so. And Dad was right: it was a car ride home if they grew tired of it, which Mom did, almost as soon as they had rolled up at the resort. Perhaps once it had looked like the photographs in the brochure, but it sure didn’t any more. Plus, it wasn’t even on the coast. In fact, the area they had driven through to get there was almost semi-industrial.
1st to Die (Women's Murder Club, Book 1) by James Patterson
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