El Gavilan
Craig McDonald
Language: English
Pages: 432
ISBN: 1440531919
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The news is full of it: escalating tensions from illegal immigration; headless bodies hanging off bridges and bounties placed on lawmen on both sides of the border. New Austin, Ohio, is a town grappling with waves of undocumented workers who exert tremendous pressure on schools, police and city services. In the midst of the turmoil, three very different kinds of cops scramble to maintain control and impose order.
But the rape-murder of a Mexican-American woman triggers a brutal chain of events that threatens to leave no survivors. El Gavilan is a novel of shifting alliances and whiplash switchbacks. Families are divided and careers and lives threatened. Friendships and ideals are tested and budding love affairs challenged. With its topical themes, shades-of-gray characters and dark canvas, El Gavilan is a novel for our charged times.
Belshazzar's Daughter (Cetin Ikmen, Book 1)
read the Bible—DeeDee, she says that ‘forty is the new thirty,’ whatever to Christ that fucking means.” Shawn shook his head again. “Yeah. Whatever.” Able said, “So, should I brace for another rough and leftward-leaning editorial about my recent policies, Mild-Mannered? Been nearly two months since you took me back of the woodshed for some ACLU-hand-wringing-inducing gaffe or policing policy on my part.” Shawn said, “No. Readers are pretty clearly on your side now, Sheriff. Certainly the
apartment, a shotgun loft above a bar spread along the length of a city block, was three blocks from the newspaper office. Shawn climbed the fire escape that trailed up the back of the building. Patricia Maldonado met him at the door and handed him a cold Corona with a slice of lime wedged in the lip. Patricia, forehead and bare arms and legs glistening, was wearing one of Shawn’s T-shirts and nothing else. He could hear the window air conditioners running, but with the summer swelter and heat
raven hair. “But as you mention it, we’re early days yet as lovers”—he smiled at her smile when he used the term—“and I’m a cop. You go into this knowing what I do to make my living, right, Patricia? You can’t spend all your time worrying about me every time I go out the door.” “The job is you, Tell. I can see that.” She stretched up and kissed him again, slowly, using her tongue. She pulled away, eyes already open, searching his face. “Where’d you leave your cell phone?” TWENTY SIX Able
reached around the door, groping. He felt a chair leg and moved it back, at the same time pushing the door further open. Broken dishes and drinking glasses were strewn everywhere. His kitchen sink reeked of piss and all of the cabinet doors had been torn off. His sofa and matching chair had been sliced open; stuffing and batting were scooped out and strewn around the room. A word was spray-painted on the wall above the ruins of his couch: Violador. The carnage went all the way back to the
constituents for his own continued employment. The one thing Walt consistently struck Able as being was a potentially dangerous enemy. The tall sheriff—Jim Denton of neighboring Phipps County—said, “Speaking of ass, as in taking it up same, you’re fuckin’ killing me, Able. I mean all the pressure you’re putting on your illegals. They’re goddamn running to my county now.” “Mine too,” Walt said sourly. Walt was something of a dandy. He wore gold chains. He also had rings on most every finger.