Nuclear Winter First Strike by Bobby Akart (best fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

Peter cautioned his father that he was more concerned now than in their prior conversation. Hank, in turn, insisted Peter should come home. That was where the two men disagreed. Peter saw this as the biggest news story of his lifetime, at least thus far. He wanted to stick it out in the DC area so he could use his sources to bring the behind-the-scenes dealings into the public eye.

He made a hollow promise to heed the warnings and be prepared to leave the Washington area as soon as possible. From Newport News to the south, all the way up the East Coast, nuclear targets were abundant. He’d already mapped out a bug-out strategy that took him away from the city and the potential fallout resulting from a direct hit. And he honestly promised to act on it when he got a chance.

With this new information in hand, Hank touched base with Mike and Jessica. He convinced them to come to the inn for a late dinner and drinks. Mike had a break in his case and looked forward to discussing it with his brother.

Finally, the toughest nut to crack, because she had her mother’s somewhat stubborn, independent streak, was Lacey. Hank spoke to her for thirty minutes and hung up pleasantly surprised. He was relieved that Lacey was taking the threat seriously. He applauded her two-day-long effort to be ready for a possible nuclear attack.

He was disappointed by her lack of commitment to hop on a plane with her family and head for Miami, where he promised to greet them. Owen had one more day in the office, and then they’d promised Tucker a four-day vacation in the mountains. She promised to think about it and, like Peter, claimed to have a plan in case they were warned of an impending attack.

The sun was beginning to drop over the horizon when Mike and Jessica arrived. The three of them pulled cigars out of the humidor and stopped by the bar for their favorite adult beverages. This, of course, reminded Hank that cigars needed to be stocked as well. Simple pleasures during the apocalypse might help him keep his sanity. He made a note on his iPhone.

“Let’s talk about your case first,” began Hank after the trio was settled in their chairs, with their toes buried in the sand.

“Yeah, it’s a break in the case although it raises a number of questions,” began Mike. “On the most recently discovered victim, the kids retrieved a fairly new model of Omega’s dive watch line. In addition to our detectives looking through missing persons reports and trying to cross-reference the watch, we were able to make out the serial number. It was laser-etched in very small type on the back of the lug closest to the eleven o’clock position. It’s a titanium model, so cleaning off the effects of sitting under water for over a week was a little easier.

“Anyway, the serial number was connected to a New York man who’d flown into Miami on business. He and a lady companion were seen leaving a bar in Coconut Grove early that evening. His rental car was found abandoned nearby.”

“How did he get to the Keys?” asked Hank.

“We believe the woman—who was described as tall, as women go, nearly six feet—helped the guy out of the bar. The man was apparently inebriated although the bartender claimed he only had a couple of scotches. Anyway, drugs might be involved, and I’m still waiting on the toxicology report.”

“That’s something,” said Hank.

“We caught a second break. After getting the vic’s photo from family, our people began canvassing hotels, restaurants and bars in the Upper Keys. We got a hit at WaterLOO, the gay bar in Key Largo.”

“Maybe they didn’t know—” Hank said as his voice trailed off.

“He didn’t, but she, or shall I say, the other he, did.”

“Wait. What? The dead guy was picked up by a—?”

Mike interrupted his question. “Quite possibly. Yes. We might be onto something here. We have a working theory, anyway. The only issue is motive.”

“The watch is high end,” observed Hank. “Robbery doesn’t make sense. Are you thinking a crime of passion? Or just an accident gone bad?”

Mike winced as he finished a sip of his drink. “Not an accident. The next two victims, if connected, rule that out. Crime of passion is a possibility. But again, how does that connect the three killings?”

“I have a theory,” interjected Jessica.

“Whadya think?” asked Hank.

“Okay, this sounds very Netflix or Hulu-worthy, but what if our suspect is a frustrated male who is trying to find himself in an LGBTQ world. Especially the Q part. I saw a documentary once about a guy who killed gay men in Toronto a while back. He thought he was gay but tried to deny it. He apparently grew angry with himself and took it out on other gay men.”

Hank turned to Mike. “Viable?”

“Absolutely. Listen, serial killers come in all shapes, sizes, and sexual orientations. To kill like this, they must have a serious screw loose. Anyway, I have our people taking the Key Largo vic’s photo around to all known LGBT hangouts in the Keys.”

“You might have to go beyond that,” added Jessica. “If he is dressing as a woman, he may be trolling all the bars. Especially the late-night ones.”

Mike finished his Jack on the rocks and hoisted himself out of his chair. “We don’t have enough people for this. I’m gonna have to ask Tallahassee for more help.”

He walked away to the bar, allowing Hank and Jessica to talk.

Hank finished his drink but kept his seat. “He’s taking this hard, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. Mike loves his job, and he’s driven to solve these murders. The break in the case helps, but it also concerns him. He didn’t mention this, but the witness who works at the Coconut Grove bar vaguely remembered the couple. The woman was described as very attractive, and the grainy image pulled from security footage bears that out.