Robin Burcell is still writing wonderful, interesting, and suspenseful mysteries. This has the San Francisco FBI artist being sent to Washington DC and then on to Amsterdam and France. At the same time there is something going on in the Carribean area. A scub diving group are shot, a freighter ha...
Scotty asked again when they reached the car. Sydney slid into the front passenger seat, glanced at her watch. “I need to pack a few things I forgot the first time around. Maybe you could drop me off at my apartment, grab us some fast food, come back, get me, and we can head straight to the airpo...
Lisette stood at the window and kept an eye on the parking lot and the road beyond, the darkness occasionally broken by a vehicle’s headlamps as it drove past. Donovan was watching the monitors, while Izzy was working the code Sydney had called in to him. On the one hand, Lisette thought, at leas...
“I’ll be liking it a lot better in about two hours when I get off for the day. If someone could disconnect the phone, it would be perfect. What’s up?”“Just wondering where to forward this,” Ennis said, walking into the office and taking a seat in one of two chairs facing the desk. “A suspicious c...
She’d given up smoking a year ago, because she couldn’t afford it and community college. Or anything else for that matter. Books cost a fortune. Food wasn’t exactly cheap, either. But sometimes people tucked money in their packs—she used to. Besides, pickpocketing kept her skills sharp, and in ...
"You're not feeling dizzy?" "No." I pulled it out, shoved it in again. "Anyone check on who ordered that pizza from Giovanni's yet?" The sharpener whined. Jerking out the pencil, I touched the tip to my finger. When he failed to answer, I met his gaze, surprised to see him look away. "I'd int...