By Greg Rucka
Greg Rucka has earned the type of attractiveness that each one mystery writers envy: his crime fiction grabs readers by means of the throat and compels them to learn as though their very own lives have been at stake. Now, in an electrifying departure, Rucka creates a brand new type of hero: a broken younger girl in unfastened fall who’s not just in danger—but dangerous.
A Fistful of Rain
Mim Bracca is driving the short lane instantly off the tip of the area. Now she’s coming domestic and not using a task, with no destiny, and with no prayer—and just one final probability to get her toes less than her, or move down eternally. yet domestic has its personal terrors, together with a earlier Mim has performed every little thing attainable to depart behind.
Now that previous is coming again with the stunning pace and lethal rationale of a sniper’s bullet, aimed to spoil her as soon as and for all. while Mim suffers her first blackout, waking up dazed and bloodied, she’s sure she’s hit rock bottom.
She’s incorrect. She’s merely simply began to fall.
The images are invasive, obscene, and all around the web for somebody to determine. How they received there, the place and after they have been shot, and by means of whom, Mim has no notion. And ahead of the research into the problem even starts off, a brutal homicide makes it transparent that no matter what Mim thinks her existence has been in past times, she’s approximately to benefit it’s all a lie.
The form of lie that might kill.
Written with lovely originality, A Fistful of Rain crosses the road setting apart the accountable from the blameless because it takes us on a breakneck experience of deceit and double move and—quite possibly—the final twenty-four hours in Mim Bracca’s stormy existence.
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Extra info for A Fistful of Rain
Now, he has to determine if it will do him any good. He makes the device flip forward to tomorrow’s paper. Tomorrow has suddenly become a relative term. The front page is of little use, containing only national news of the upcoming presidential election. He makes the device turn pages to the local Riverview section. There is a picture of a woman wearing a ridiculous hat handing a teacher a present. The caption below it reads, “Mildred Sinclair, chairwoman of St. ” he shouts aloud to the car. With his free left hand, he smacks the steering wheel.
Don’t they have fire drills every month or so to make sure the system works? Maybe that’s just to scare the hell out of the children…I’m trapped…this is it…I can’t change anything…steal a hat, a drink squirts on the floor…children knock the garbage can over—what are the odds? Couldn’t even use that in one of my TV scripts—would’ve been called a hack, too unbelievable…and the smoke detector…how? how could all of it not work at all? Was getting power, hooked up to the alarm too…nothing…couldn’t get rid of the hat, couldn’t clear out the building, couldn’t change one lousy photograph in the local section of the paper…trapped…can’t change anything…don’t want to see all those lonely years again…too much…too much…can’t help her, can’t even help myself…everything I try to change, universe will set back the way that it was…reality is constant…they were right…can’t go back and change anything…there’s no hope… Thirteen minutes later.
Pushing in the button on the door handle, the heavy door comes unlatched. He slides onto the seat, and the smell, the wonderful smell of the vintage interior fills his nostrils. It’s a comfort in the flames of his anxiety. The car shouldn’t be here, yet now he sits in it. Burning and racing, his mind tries to think of what else he might find here that simply should not be, things beyond science and reason. Most specifically, he worries that something will keep him from reaching her. If the car is here, and it shouldn’t be; thenmaybe Rhonda should be here and isn’t, or at least maybe she won’t be where he thought he’d find her.
A Fistful of Rain by Greg Rucka