âA lightning-paced thriller with lean, tense writing ⦠Mofina really knows how to make the story fly.â
âTess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling author on A Perfect Grave
âAt full-throttle from the first page and doesnât let up till the last.â
âLinwood Barclay on Every Fear
âA snappy action-packed, hard-to-put-down thriller.â
âDaily Mail on The Dying Hour
âRick Mofina keeps you turning the pages with characters you care about, a believable plot and as many twists as it takes to keep the suspense at a high level until the shattering conclusion.â
âPeter Robinson on The Dying Hour
âIt moves like a tornadoâ
âJames Patterson on Six Seconds
âGrabs your gutâand your heartâin the opening scenes and never lets go.â
âJeffery Deaver on Six Seconds
âClassic virtues but tomorrowâs subjectsâeverything we need from a great thriller.â
âLee Child on Six Seconds
Also by Rick Mofina
SIX SECONDS
Jason Wade novels
THE DYING HOUR
EVERY FEAR PERFECT GRAVE
A Jack Gannon novel
VENGEANCE ROAD
Coming soon from MIRA books
THE PANIC ZONE
Thank you, Amy Moore-Benson
My thanks to the New York State Police.
Thank you to Valerie Gray, Dianne Moggy, Catherine Burke and the excellent editorial, marketing, sales and PR teams at MIRA Books. As always, I am indebted to Wendy Dudley. I also thank my friends in the news business for their help and support; in particular, Sheldon Alberts, Washington Bureau Chief for CanWest News Service, Glen Miller, Metro, Juliet Williams, Associated Press, Sacramento, California, Bruce DeSilva and Vinnee Tong, Associated Press, New York. Also Lou Clancy, Eric Dawson, Jamie Portman, Mike Gillespie, colleagues past and present with the Calgary Herald, Ottawa Citizen, CanWest News, Canadian Press, Reuters, the Toronto Star, Globe and Mail and so many others.
You know who you are.
Thanks to Ginnie Roeglin, Tod Jones, David Fuller, Steve Fisher, Lorelle Gilpin, Sue Knowles, David Wright and everyone at The C.C. I am grateful to Pennie Clark Ianniciello, Shana Rawers, Wendi Wambolt and Melissa McMeekin.
Very special thanks to Laura and Michael.
Again, I am indebted to sales representatives, booksellers and librarians for putting my work in your hands. Which brings me to you, the readerâthe most critical part of the entire enterprise.
Thank you very much for your time, for without you, a book remains an untold tale. I hope you enjoyed the ride and will check out my earlier books while watching for my next one. I welcome your feedback. Drop by at www.rickmofina.com, subscribe to my newsletter and send me a note.
I am the man that hath seen affliction
by the rod of his wrath.
He hath led me, and brought me into
darkness, but not into light.
Surely against me is he turned; he turneth
his hand against me all the day.
âLamentations 3:1â3
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones.
âWilliam Shakespeare
Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene ii
The taxi crawled along a road that knifed into the night at Buffaloâs eastern edge.
Its brakes squeaked as it halted at the fringe of a vast park.
Jolene Peller gazed toward the woods then paid the driver.
âThis is where you want to be dropped off?â he asked.
âYes. Can you kill the meter and wait for me, please?â
âI canât, youâre my last fare. Gotta get the cab back.â
âPlease, I just have to find my friend.â
The driver handed her a five in change, nodding to the pathway that twisted into darkness beyond the reach of his headlights.
âYouâre sure your friendâs down there?â
âYes, I need to get her home. Sheâs going through a rough time.â
âItâs a beautiful park, but you know what some people do down there at night?â
Jolene knew.
But she was living another life then. If you could call it living.
âCanât you wait a bit?â Jolene asked.
âNot on my time. Gotta get the cab back then start my vacation.â
âPlease.â
âLook, miss, you seem nice. Iâll take you back now. Iâll give you a break on the fare because itâs on my way. But I ainât waitinâ while you wander around looking for your problem. Stay or go? Whatâs it going to be?â
Tonight was all Jolene had to do the right thing.
âI have to stay,â she said.
The driver gave her a suit-yourself shrug and Jolene got out. The taxi lumbered off, its red taillights disappearing, leaving her alone.
She had to do this.
As she walked along the path, she looked at the familiar twinkle of lights from the big suburban homes on the ridge that ringed the parkland half a mile off. When she found Bernice, theyâd walk to a corner store then get a cab to Berniceâs apartment. Then Jolene could take another one to the terminal, claim her bags and catch a later bus.
But not before she found Bernice.
Not before she saved her.
And tonight, for one brief moment, she thought she had.
Less than an hour ago they were together in a downtown diner where Jolene had pleaded with her.