Blindside
Chapter One
It was pitch black.
There was no moon, no stars, just low-lying rain-bloated clouds,
as black as the sky. Dillon Savich was sweating in his Kevlar vest
even though it was fifty degrees.
He dropped to his knees, raised his hand to stop the agents behind
him, and carefully slid into position so he could see into the room.
The window was dirty, the tattered draperies a vomit-brown, with
only one lamp in the corner throwing off sixty watts. The rest of the
living room was dark, but he could clearly see the teacher, James
Marple, tied to a chair, gagged, his head dropped forward. Was he
asleep or unconscious? Or dead?
Savich couldn't tell.
He didn't see Marvin Phelps, the sixty-seven-year-old man who
owned this run-down little 1950s tract house on the outskirts of the
tiny town of Mount Pleasant, Virginia. From what they'd found out
in the hour before they'd converged on this small house, Phelps was
a retired math teacher and owned the old Buick sitting in the patched
drive. Savich knew from his driver's license that Phelps was tall,
skinny, and had a head covered with thick white hair. And for ... read full excerpt from Blindside ebook
