Pelican Bay
"Ma'am?"
Dave Adler, the young patrol officer with the freshfaced good looks of a teen idol, filled the doorway to my office with his six-foot frame.
"It's Detective Skerritt, or Maggie, remember?" When he called me ma'am, I felt like his mother.
"Detective Skerritt." His face reddened. "We got another home invasion. Sheriff's crime-scene unit is there now, but I doubt they'll find much. It was smash, grab and gone."
I slumped in my desk chair and stared at the half-eaten burger and grease-stained container of cold, soggy fries on the blotter. Working late to catch up on my ever-increasing mountain of paperwork, I'd been too busy to eat.
"Where do they think this is, Tampa?" I swept the leftovers into the wastebasket beside my desk. "I've been with the Pelican Bay Department fifteen years and never had an armed intrusion. ... read full excerpt from Pelican Bay ebook
