Checkmate (The Harry Starke Novels Book 4)

It was a fine morning for golf. Right up until we found the body in the water.

I was on the seventh tee with my father, needling each other over a ten-dollar bet, when the shout came up from the river. A woman, face up in six inches of water, mid-twenties, not a mark on her. She looked almost peaceful. She was anything but.

I knew her face. That was the part that turned my stomach.

Kate Gazzara caught the case, tired and short-tempered and already buried under four other killings she couldn't close. This one had all the makings of a fifth: no wounds, no weapon, no witnesses, a body the river had done its best to scrub clean. An accident, if you wanted it to be. I didn't. I've been doing this too long to believe a woman like that ends up in the water by accident.

Somebody put her there. Somebody careful, patient, and a long way ahead of us, the kind of killer who plans it out to the last move and is already smiling, certain he's won.

My name's Harry Starke. He thinks it's over. He thinks he's clear. He's about to find out it's not and he isn't.

Checkmate. A Harry Starke Novel, Book 4.