Kincaid's Dangerous Game
Holt Kincaid was no stranger to insomnia. He'd been afflicted with bouts of it since childhood, and had learned long ago not to fight it. Consequently, he'd grown accustomed to whiling away the long late-night or early-morning hours catching up on paperwork, going over notes from whatever case he was working on, knowing that what he didn't pursue would come to him on its own, eventually.
Not this time.
The only case he was working at the moment—the only one that mattered, anyway—was at a dead standstill. The paperwork had been done. He'd been over his notes a hundred times. There was nothing more to be gleaned from them.
Over the course of his career as a private investigator specializing in missing persons cases—the cold ones in particular—he'd had to admit defeat only once. That one failure was the case responsible for a lot of the insomnia he'd suffered for most of his life, and the idea that he might have to add this one to the roster of his regrets weighed heavily on his mind. Sleep wouldn't come to him this night, no matter how coyly he played her flirting game.
Laurel Canyon was quiet now. There'd been sirens earlier, pr ... read full excerpt from: Kincaid's Dangerous Game ebook
