After 20 years, it’s the publication countdown to my first suspense novel

Am I appropriately suspenseful looking?

When I retired from journalism and started my own book and memoir editing service last October, one of the primary reasons was to binge-watch Yellowstone try new vodkas become a TikTok sensation get back to my roots of fiction writing. At the top of the list was dusting off an original manuscript for a suspense novel I had written a draft of back in 1996 called No Safe Harbor.

I was living in Atlanta working as a chef, but spent the better part of a year interviewing detectives, crime scene technicians, and members of the Smyrna Police Department’s Internal Affairs office in my free time. Among those I interviewed was a private investigator named JR Noland who would only speak with me from pay phones. To this day, I still have no idea what he looks like. And since the book was set in Seattle — my absolute favorite big city — but I was in Atlanta, I had to research it the old-fashioned way: by catching a stagecoach to…

Ok, I’m not THAT old. But I did contact the Seattle Chamber of Commerce and lied pretended I was moving there and needed all the information I could get.

Hey, Google Maps and internet searches weren’t things back then.

Continue reading After 20 years, it’s the publication countdown to my first suspense novel

No Safe Harbor — Chapter 28

Now in protective custody, Shane and Jacob share what they know, helping establish the details surrounding Lynda Bettington’s murder by Seattle Police officers Perkins and Taylor. With that knowledge, FBI agent Jack Dalton devises a plan to close the noose around them, and Rick Sparlo — with help from Shane.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Shane and Jacob were separated, each of them accompanied by a handful of investigators from the FBI, Internal Affairs and the Washington Bureau of Investigation. Also on hand, at the official request of Russ Braden, were James Kazad and Walter Aames. In each interview room was a video camera recording their accounts of the events leading up to yesterday’s incident on 35th Street. The debriefing took nearly three hours, with Shane and Jacob elaborating on every question in as much detail as possible. Along with Mead’s testimony taken earlier that day, a timeline began to form and, by late afternoon, a picture of Lynda Bettington’s final hours came into focus.

The night of her death, Lynda was definitely leaving her husband. The car packed with suitcases, along with Jacob’s testimony that he and his mother were on their way to his grandmother’s in Oregon, supported that. As did the evidence of child abuse recorded by Hollins in the crime lab. The decision to stop at Sharon Reese’s, whether to stay the night or say goodbye, was the turning point.

Lynda was obviously unaware of Reese’s activities, and certainly any connection to Rick Sparlo.

When officers Taylor and Perkins arrived, Lynda found herself hiding with Jacob in the bedroom where, together, they overheard the threats and struggling that prompted Lynda to rush to her sister’s aid — a move that made her a potential threat to Perkins and Taylor.

And ultimately Rick Sparlo.

When Lynda left the condo with Jacob and raced away in their Dodge, she probably wasn’t aware Perkins and Taylor had seen her. Fearing what she could expose, they began pursuit shortly after. It was doubtful murder was their intent at that point. What wasn’t in doubt was their lack of knowledge concerning Jacob; they had no idea he existed, and Lynda managed to keep it that way by letting him out in Lincoln Park. It appeared her plan was to come back for him or, at the very least, draw them away from Jacob. Unfortunately, the crash in the industrial district changed everything.

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No Safe Harbor — Chapters 26 & 27

As detectives Kazad and Aames prepare to expose what they know to Internal Affairs, new revelations change everything they thought they knew. Meanwhile, Shane and Jacob’s captors turn out to be something unexpected as the tables begin to shift against Rick Sparlo.

Chapter Twenty-Six

When the door to Braden’s office opened, both Kazad and Aames were surprised by the sight of Tabitha Mills standing in the far corner of the room. Braden rose and motioned to a cluster of chairs around the edge of his desk. “Have a seat, gentlemen.”

As Kazad sat, he noticed a thick manila folder held closed with a wide rubber band resting on the desk in front of Braden.

“Gentlemen, I know you’ve met officer Mills before.”

“Officer?” said Kazad. “I thought she was with Child Protective Services.”

“She works for me, at least for the time being. I asked for help from the state attorney general’s office because I needed someone who wouldn’t be recognized from I.A.”

“I’m not following you, Russ,” said Hammond.

“There’s a lot that we’ve kept from you,” Braden confessed. “You have two officers we believe are murderers. But that’s only part of it.”

“Only part of what?” said Hammond, his shock quickly shifting to anger. He didn’t like being blindsided. “You’re telling me you suspect dirty cops in my percent — cops you think might have committed murder, for Christ’s sake — and this is the first I’m hearing about it?”

“There’s more to it than that, Chief. Much more. Enough to involve a team from Washington, D.C.”

“The feds are part of this too?” Hammond suddenly stood from his chair.

“It’s their show, Russ. We became involved when your officers became involved. Since then, we’ve been working together and trying hard to keep it under wraps. You’ll understand why after I explain, so please — have a seat.”

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No Safe Harbor — Chapters 24 & 25

With The Nook destroyed by an explosion and Shane and Jacob missing after being abducted into a mysterious black van, detectives Kazad and Aames are convinced Shane is innocent — and make the decision to reveal their suspicions to Internal Affairs.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sparlo stood at the window of his office. He’d purchased the space more than two years ago and never tired of the view. From his vantage on the 12th floor, the entire stretch of West Seattle was before him, including a large portion of The Sound and nearby ferries that connected the mainland to Vashon and Bainbridge islands, as well as those traveling to Vancouver, B.C. Beyond that, due south, he could see the tip of Magnolia Bay.

With contentment, he watched rising smoke drifting eastward, driven by strong bay winds.

That should get your attention, Mr. McPhearson,” he said, tapping his finger against the glass. A knock came from his office door. “Come in,” he said, still looking out the window.

A tall, well-tailored man with glacier-blue eyes entered, his mood casual as he walked to the Italian leather chair opposite Sparlo’s massive cherrywood desk. He sat and crossed his long, Armani pant legs. “How’s the show?”

“Nicely done, Oscar.”

“I called first. Made sure she was there. A couple others ended up as part of the equation but it couldn’t be helped. The whole place fell into the water.”

Sparlo gave a final look out the window before settling into his dark leather wing-back chair. “How long until someone other than our friend realizes it was deliberate?”

“Hard to say. A week? Maybe two? What’s left of the detonator is halfway to the Pacific by now. The rest is at the bottom of the bay.” Spotting a piece of fuzz on his pant leg, Oscar Tarretti brushed it off with one, smooth motion. “Even if they drag it, they’ll find Jimmy Hoffa before they find anything conclusive. It was designed to obliterate the structure.”

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No Safe Harbor — Chapters 22 & 23

With few options remaining, Shane decides to risk capture by arranging a meeting with KIRO reporter Patty Mead to expose the truth. When they meet, he has no way of knowing Kazad and Aames are there as well — or that Jacob will be thrown into the middle of a high-stakes chase through the streets of Seattle as their meeting goes terribly wrong.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The corner of S.W. Avalon and 35th streets was a steady exchange of commuters, some crossing against the light at a quick pace, others leisurely strolling the parameter of the West Seattle Golf Course, and a few pushing battered shopping carts in and out of traffic. Yellow cabs darted around lumbering busses. Business suits and designer jeans dodged outstretched hands extending from the sleeves of frayed sweaters and faded tee shirts.

Half a block away in a shaded parking space at the Pecos Pit Bar-B-Que restaurant, Shane watched with binoculars, studying the activity and looking for Patty Mead. She was late and it unnerved him. He’d give her two more minutes, then they were leaving.

“She there yet?” Jacob asked, peering over the dash.

“Not yet.”

Shane swept the lenses over street corners and along the sidewalks, stopping suddenly to adjust the focus. “Wait. I think I got her.” He leaned forward and brought Mead into focus. “Yep. That’s her.”

Mead was moving through the crowd almost at a trot as she crossed the intersection, making her way to the trash receptacle on the far corner. She waited there, slightly out of breath and nervously glancing at strangers.

“We’ll give her a minute or two and see if she talks to herself,” said Shane.

Jacob squinted as he looked through the windshield, trying to see her. “You want to know if she’s crazy?”

A grin spread below the binoculars. “That would be good to know,” he said, chuckling, “but it could also mean she’s wired and talking to someone we can’t see. Then we’d know it’s a trap.”

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The commencement speech no one asked me to give

Wisdom isn’t about knowing everything—or searching for it on a smartphone—but about understanding what you don’t know.

To the graduates, faculty members, parents, dignitaries, misinformed wedding crashers, and Visa/MasterCard representatives who have gathered here today, I am honored to have the opportunity to address this group of graduating seniors and impart the wisdom I have gained since my own graduation from high school nearly 150 years ago.

Standing before you today, I see the anticipation on your faces as each of you realizes what sharing my wisdom with you means: Possibly the shortest commencement speech in school history.

Before long, you will step forward and receive the culmination of 12—possibly 14—years of education. You will shake hands with some of those who have helped guide you to this milestone. And unless your last name begins with a “Z,” you will return to your seat as the rest your classmates step forward to receive their diplomas. That’s when you silently think to yourself, “I really shouldn’t have had that second bottle of Mountain Dew.”

But you will sit quietly, probably cross-legged, and deal with it. You are now officially your own person—making your own decisions, embracing the rewards and accepting the consequences of those decisions—as you embark on a journey of independence in a world of your own making.

Continue reading The commencement speech no one asked me to give