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Published by Breakaway Media

Tucson, Arizona (USA)

www.breakawaymedia.com

120201
THE LAURA CARDINAL NOVELS

J. CARSON BLACK

Laura Cardinal, a detective with the Arizona Department of Public Safety, troubleshoots homicide investigations in small towns where resources are scarce. She lives in a rented adobe house on a guest ranch in the desert. The ghost of her dead partner, Frank Entwistle, appears at the oddest moments—sometimes to help, and sometimes just to tell her how he would do it.

Everybody’s a critic.

DARKNESS ON THE EDGE OF TOWN, Book 1

“A superb debut…Welcome to a strong new voice in American Crime Fiction”

—T. Jefferson Parker, author of THE BORDER LORDS

Used to be kids played outdoors until time for dinner, now social media’s the new game in town. These days, they play on their smartphones. But with more freedom comes greater danger. Mobile devices and computers are a conduit into a child’s life, not just for friends but for those who intend harm. This is the message of J. Carson Black’s Daphne du Maurier Award-nominated thriller, DARKNESS ON THE EDGE OF TOWN.

When Laura investigates the murder of a fourteen-year-old girl left in a town’s park band shell, she knows immediately what she’s up against: a cunning sexual predator. But why is she plagued by the abduction of a schoolmate eighteen years earlier?

In a runaway case that propels Laura from a lavish Tucson estate to the secretive heart of a north Florida town, she must confront the ghosts of her own past. Then another child goes missing—and Laura must race the clock to find her.

“A dark, brilliantly-plotted police procedural.”

—Midwest Book Review

DARK SIDE OF THE MOON, Book 2

When a young couple on their honeymoon is found shot to death in a campground in Williams, Arizona, the consequences go far beyond a simple murder investigation. As the investigation unfolds, Laura uncovers a chilling portrait of the dark side of love. And when she learns of one victim’s ties to an underground organization called the Earth Warriors, she is plunged into a high-stakes conspiracy played out against the unforgiving backdrop of the Mojave Desert—where there are no second chances.

"Dark Side of the Moon takes you on a perilous descent into a shadowy underworld where light cannot reach, trust can be fatal, and the deepest truth is only another lie. Once again J. Carson Black delivers a harrowing nonstop thrill ride that will eclipse every other suspense novel you read this year!”

—
New York Times bestselling author Michael Prescott

“Black never lets up the pace for an instant.”

—SF Site

THE DEVIL’S HOUR, Book 3

“J. Carson Black's THE DEVIL'S HOUR is a superior mystery novel in all respects. Fine prose, terrific suspense, believable characters, and one of the most unexpected and satisfying conclusions I've read in a long time. Highly recommended."

—John Lescroart, New York Times bestselling author of DAMAGE

In 1997, the disappearance of three young girls rocked the city of Tucson, Arizona. Eleven years later, one of those girls—Micaela Brashear—comes home, alive.

Detective Laura Cardinal worked homicide for Arizona DPS, but now she's been moved to the Open-Unsolved Unit. With a new job and a new partner who questions her every move, Laura pieces together Micaela's fragmented memories in the hope she will learn the whereabouts of the other two children.

When a man walking his dog finds the bones of a child in a shallow grave on the mountain above town, it becomes clear to Laura that Micaela was the lucky one.

But the killer isn't through yet, and after the fiery death of someone close to Laura, she realizes she faces an implacable enemy.

DARKNESS

ON THE EDGE

OF TOWN

To the memory of my father:

A stray breeze on a hot day

The sun gentle on my face

VAIL, ARIZONA

Francis X. Entwistle showed up in Laura Cardinal’s bedroom at three in the morning, looking world-weary.

“Don’t get up, Lorie. Just wanted to give you a heads-up. A bad one’s coming.”

Frank’s complexion was pale and there were shadows under his eyes. In life, his face had been dull red from the high blood pressure that had killed him. A bottle of Tanqueray gin sat on the window table and the tumbler in Frank’s hand was about a quarter full. Laura didn’t own any tumblers and she didn’t drink gin.

Laura wasn’t entirely surprised that her old mentor was sitting in the straight-backed Mexican chair in her bedroom four months after his wife had buried him. Maybe because she knew she was dreaming. Or maybe because he was her last link to her parents, and she didn’t want him to be gone for good. Frank Entwistle leaned forward, the nightlight from the bathroom illuminating the scroll of white hair above his side part. “You’re gonna have to pay attention and keep on paying attention.”

He stopped to scratch the tip of his nose. Laura Cardinal realized the absurdity of the situation: Sitting in her bed at three in the morning, watching a dead homicide cop scratching his nose.

“I’m talking about the kind of thing, you aren’t careful, could come back around and bite you in the ass. The key word here is vigilance.”

She wanted him to clarify what he meant by that, but he was starting to fade.

He held his glass up in a salute. “Watch your back, kiddo.”

When she caught the case the next day, there was no doubt in Laura’s mind that it was the one Frank Entwistle had alluded to.

It was the weekend, and she was at her little house on the guest ranch where she lived rent-free. The owner, a friend from high school, liked the idea of having a criminal investigator from the Arizona Department of Public Safety living on his property.

The dream about Frank Entwistle remained with her, vivid and unsettling. It didn’t feel like a dream. When she got up this morning, she sleepwalked into the bathroom. In the dim glow of the nightlight, she saw a ring on the table left by a sweating glass. Instantly she was wide awake, her heart rate going through the roof, until she realized the real culprit was Tom Lightfoot. Tom never remembered to use a coaster.

It was Tom who had been on her mind all morning, Tom who had preoccupied her since he left two days ago on a packing trip to New Mexico.

This was because of the note stuck to the refrigerator: “Maybe we should live together - T”

Not “Love, T,” she noticed. The word “love” scared her anyway, so she wouldn’t hold that against him. What she did hold against him was the fact that he had blindsided her, leaving that note on her refrigerator and then creeping out of town. She couldn’t reach him in the back country. She couldn’t say they’d only been together two and a half months, that his house was just over the hill, that just because he spent every night with her anyway, he shouldn’t think he could move in. Living together was a whole different proposition from sleeping together. The last man she had lived with had been her husband, and that had not turned out well.

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