I think what readers find endearing about Maggie is that even though she’s very capable of going up against killers she still has vulnerabilities and personal challenges. She hates flying and is claustrophobic. She’s divorced, has a suicidal alcoholic mother, and a half-brother she’s only now getting to know. She’s slow to trust, not good at relationships and has very few people she counts on.
One of the best things about writing the series is that every time I think I really know Maggie, I find yet another side of her to explore. She continues to surprise me and I hope that’s true for my readers as well.
More Titles from Alex Kava
Maggie O'Dell series:
2000 A Perfect Evil 2001 Split Second 2002 The Soul Catcher 2003 At The Stroke of Madness 2006 A Necessary Evil 2008 Exposed
2009 Black Friday 2010 Damaged
2011 Hotwire
2012 FireProof (July) 2013 Stranded (July)
Stand Alone novels: 2004 One False Move
2007 Whitewash
What They’re Saying About Alex Kava
"Kava seems to get better with every book."~The Omaha World Herald
"Maggie O'Dell could be Jack Reacher's long-lost twin" ~Lee Child, NYT Bestselling author of 61 HOURS
"The question of how such widely disparite outrages might be connected is ingenius." ~Kirkus Reviews
"A sizzling plot, achingly real characters, and government officials working their backsides off to save their backsides, all strike as lethally as lightning." ~Starred Publisher's Weekly on HOTWIRE
"Kava spins a plot with significant political ramifications, combining nonstop action and lethal danger...plausible enough to leave readers wondering about the line between truth and fiction." ~Booklist
CHAPTER EXCERPTS
Excerpts reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
WHERE ALL THE DEAD LIE by J.T. Ellison
WATCH ME DIE By Erica Spindler
HOTWIRE by Alex Kava
All books available where ever ebooks are sold.
WHERE ALL THE DEAD LIE by J.T. Ellison
CHAPTER ONE
Dear Sam,
There is a moment in every life that defines, shapes, transcends your previous spirit, molding you as if from newborn clay. It’s come for me. I have changed, and that change is irreversible.
Sam, there’s no doubt anymore. I’m losing my mind. The shooting is haunting me. The horror of your loss, of who I’ve become, all of it is too much. I’m not sure how much longer I can stand to go on like this, trapped under glass, trapped away from everyone. I’m lost.
The walls here speak. Disconcerting at times, but at others, it’s a comfort. The ceilings dance in the candlelight, and the floors shimmer and ripple with my every step. I escape out of doors, and when I do, all I find is fog, and mist, and lumbering sheep. Cows with gentle, inquisitive eyes. The dogs have a sense of humor. But you can tell they’d turn on you in a second. I’ve known people like that. The deer are patient, and sad, resigned to their captive lives. The crows are aggressive. The seagulls act foolish, and there’s something so wrong about seeing a soaring gull against the mountainous backdrop. The chickens are huge and fretful, the grouse are in a hurry. The mist settles like a cold shawl across the mountain’s shoulders, and the road I walk grows close, like it’s planning to share a secret.
Above all, there is no one. And everyone. I feel them all around me. All the missing and the gone. I can’t see them, except for late at night, when I’m supposed to be asleep. Then they push in on me from all sides, stealing my breath. The room grows cold and the warnings begin.
It strikes me that I’m surrounded by doctors, yet no one can help. I have to find the strength from within to heal. Isn’t that what they always say, Physician, heal thyself? I shall amend it: Lieutenant, command thyself.
Sam, please, forgive me. It’s all my fault. I know that now.
In moments of true peace: outside by the statue of Athena, looking over the gardens, watching the animals on the grounds, I feel your sorrow. I finally understand what you’ve lost. I’ve lost it, too. I don’t think there’s any coming back. I don’t think there’s any room for me in our world anymore.
There’s something wrong with this place. Memphis’s ancestors are haunting me. They don’t like me here.
I did the best I could. I messed everything up, and I don’t know if I can fix it.
Hug the twins. Their Fairy Godmother loves them. And I love you. I’m all done.
Taylor
Taylor slammed the laptop shut. Nauseous again. Pain built behind her eyes. A demon’s hammering. Her only recourse was to lie down, lids screwed shut, praying for the hurt to pass. Percocet. Another. The pills they provided had stopped working. Nightfall signaled her brain to collapse in on itself, to allow the doubt and pain to rule. Weakness. Mornings brought safety, and courage.
Her mind was made of hinges, pieces that held imaginings she didn’t want to acknowledge. If she did, the demons overtook her thoughts.