Into the Fire

Chapter Two from my novel Race – my only mystery/police procedural. 

TWO

A long day ahead presented itself accompanied by the gut feeling this was indeed a homicide and it wasn’t going to be an easy solve. My partner Jesse Davidson called to tell me he was en route. The ME arrived shortly after Jesse’s call. Doctor Loren Walsh set the initial estimate of time of death at sometime between midnight and 3 AM., a fairly precise window, putting the girlfriend at the top of my suspect list if natural causes were ruled out.

     Racetrack security, our patrol officers, and Detectives Phil Phelps and Mark Griffin helped keep the group outside the tape from crowding the scene and separated and contained those who first arrived because of Carmella’s frantic screaming. At my request they’d contacted the particular guard who manned the gate during the shift when Carmella supposedly arrived back at the track and sent a replacement to relieve him so he could come and talk to us.

     We needed to notify the owner of the racetrack and inform him of our investigation. No doubt he wouldn’t want this publicized and neither did we, but word always manages to get out. I’d send Detective Griffin to do this after we got done with the preliminaries.

     The official cameras flashed recording the scene, and the two other detectives converged to get interviews after discouraging those with cell phones attempting to take pictures although the crime scene itself was not visible.

     Jesse arrived looking a whole lot more refreshed than anyone should at this hour. I’m obsessive about how people dress so I notice Jesse’s attire. Dapper dude that he was, he’d elected to wear pressed Levis and some kind of Redwing boots with his professionally cleaned button-down pale yellow shirt with the one button undone at the neck to expose the tight-curving collar of a blinding white T-shirt, and his black leather jacket which he tossed into his car to don his ballistic vest. The brisk morning air sent a shiver more than once under my light POLICE windbreaker, my polo shirtsleeves not providing much warmth in spite of the extra layer my vest provided.

     “So. Guy dies in his sleep? Girlfriend can’t remember if she’s in bed with him? Convenient, huh?”

     “Looks that way.”

     “That her over there?”

     “Uh-huh.”

     “Kinda hot, huh? How ‘bout him? He a looker too?”

     “Oh yeah.”

     “Okay. We find the other guys and gals these two’ve been sleepin’ with and we got a suspect pool. If we need one.”

     “Pretty much.” 

Father, you kept after me to write this one. Thank you for providing what and who I needed to do it. I can never thank you enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

The romance in my soul . . . (Originally posted: 02/01/2014)

Hard-wired for it, I can't remember that thing called romance never being with me. Not in the gushy, girly-girl, over-the-top kind of way. Not that I can fault that. It is what it is. But rather so deep in my soul that it covers everything else. It rises to a three-note tune and overwhelms me. The melancholy or the sensuality or the desire to immerse myself in its beauty. It's integral to who I am even when I don't know who that is.

This romance in my soul emerges from the sad, sacred sounds of Chris Botti's trumpet. It hovers inside me bringing all the insecurity of that first date. First kiss. Lips touching.

I sense the holiness intended – but corrupted.

The intensity of sensation that God intended for good. The genesis of romance from God's heart to the human will. Tainted but salvaged in potential obedience.

I can't take the sensuality away from it. Hand in hand they travel. Merging. Right or wrong.

I capture the essence of romance in my novels. Because I must. If I do nothing else well, I write romance – total immersion. Not demanding it conform to me or anyone else but that it treasure the gift of God to humanity.

Romance is not about the fluff, it's about the soul deep stirrings of approaching love. The fear of not attaining it – that it will skitter away without being realized. The tingle and excitement produced by the glance from a certain individual will disappear unrequited. But it's also about the anxious hesitation and apprehension of the possibility that love will grab you and never let go. Romance is all of that and everything in between. It slips into our pubescent worlds and graduates with intensity in innumerable forms with unlimited imagination. Not always pretty and performed to a preconceived notion or script, romance writes its own tale and concludes with short-lived episodes or uncompromised commitments.

Real romance is worth a story. If you dare to write it, write it real. 

Thank you, Father, for letting me feel the romance that reigns pure in your Spirit. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

I know of authors who are rigid in their disciplines when writing. I know of authors who plot their stories before they write a word. Some use outlines. Some use photographs. Some use white boards with all kinds of methods to inspire them. Some keep a schedule and stick to it. Some claim to be "seat-of-the-pants" writers (which I am), but still manage to do some pre-work planning and/or plotting for their novel(s). 

I'd be the proverbial "black sheep" of all of them if compared. I don't have a schedule. I don't plot my novels, but I do have a mental picture of the characters and a part of their situations before my story begins. I'm undisciplined and have no excuses for it. 

The only thing I can say definitively about my writing is that it comes from my heart with a direction from the Lord. So why am I "lazy" and "undisciplined" about writing? Sometimes the words and ideas come in quick bursts and the pages follow. Other times, I'm far away from those words and can't make them perform.

I don't write just to be writing. That doesn't work for me. I don't write pages and pages and then keep writing more without going over them and rereading them, making corrections. 

That's who I am as an author. Certainly not one to impress anyone or to suggest anyone follow my lead. Do it the way the Lord has it planned for you. That's the best any of us can do. 

Father, you know exactly what I need and when I need it. Help me to "pick up the pen" and finish this one. Please. Apart from you, I can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Back in the 70s. The lyrics are typical of that time, believe me. Hope you enjoy Pure Prairie League's Amie.

Father, you know all hearts and minds, every thought. Nothing is hidden from you. Thank you for your benevolent gifts to people. May all know from whom they are given. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

I had hoped to have another book review for you today, but I didn't finish it in time. I also thought I'd discuss some writing topics with you this Monday, Monday, but, alas, I couldn't come up with anything that interested me at the time of preparing this post. So . . . 

I'm being honest in telling you I got nuthin' for you this Monday Musings . . . day. I apologize. 

You have a good one! Make the most of it. 

Father, thank you for giving me what I need most when I need it. Thank you for always being here. I'm desperate for you. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

But as for me, I keep watch for the Lord,

     I wait in hope for God my Savior;

     my God will hear me. 

Micah 7:7

Bloodlands by Mark Dawson is Book 23 in A John Milton Novel Series. 

John Milton is no stranger to betrayals. He's been experiencing them from the moment he left Group Fifteen. And ever since then, he's been on the move and going dark. His IT specialist Ziggy (and former MI6) has done the hacking necessities and information gathering for John, and John has rescued him from a scrape or two. Although they're two completely opposite personalities – Ziggy being a total geek and John the former Number One of Group Fifteen master operative – they need each other in different capacities. Ziggy wants to be of help, and he can do it all technically, providing, or knowing who can, all the necessary things for traveling and existing without a leaving a trail.

John and Ziggy are on the run when the story opens, trying to determine the whereabouts of Control of Group Fifteen since she and the group of agents with her including John were sabotaged by one of their own in Russia. She, the saboteur Lily Moon, Number Six, promises her defection while Control is captured, and Milton manages to get away in the mayhem after all the agents are executed. The defector returns to the Group with a story about her miraculous escape while having promised the Russian she'd supply critical information to spare her young daughter (Lola) and earn the money necessary to fight to retain custody of her. 

John knows her story implicated him in the murders of Control and the agents and knows the pursuit is in full operation to capture or kill on contact. Ziggy and John are in it together as their escape leads them to France first, Ukraine second. John tries to persuade Ziggy to let him go the rest of the way alone to find Control and rescue her from her captor if she's still alive, but Ziggy is unwilling to give up. 

Another former acquaintance of John gets involved and the action accelerates in all kinds of ways in an effort to get the information they need to find Control.

Bloodlands is a bleak tale of systematic necessities of violence and captures, excessive and extreme travels, seemingly unending miles over desolate terrain, and the pursuit of mixed objectives. Each character demonstrates full allegiance to the search with deadly intentions and the somber knowledge of their possible deaths before accomplishing their goals. All done to rectify horrific wrongs and clear John's and eventually Ziggy's and his other friend's names. It's a horrid journey with slim rewards along the way but the gut-level do or die determination is the one shared absolute.   

The conclusion is stunning although there are hints of its existence before the ending so the surprise is somewhat expected but not pleasant while setting the stage for Book 24. 

I highly recommend A John Milton Novel Series, and even though 23 books are a lot to read, doing so really will add the complete picture of the characters, especially Milton, if you start at the first one in the series. 

(Some profanity.)

Father, only you know people's hearts. I pray each one who's using the talents you've given them would know it was you who gave them what they love to do. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Martin "Marty" Deeks (Eric Christian Olsen) from NCISLA. I miss this series. Great characters, writers, actors. 

Father, please bless those who make good films, TV, and creative endeavors. May each one know from whom their talent comes. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Where's your go-to whimsical place? Beach/ocean, mountains, lakes/rivers, cities? I love the ocean. 

Father, you left us so much beauty we never deserved. Thank you for it all. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

One of the most dysfunctional bands back in the day but always able to produce fantastic music. This is such a classic-rock-era video. Do watch it on YouTube. Beautifully done.

Father, you've been so generous with your gifting of talents to people. May each one know from whom their talents come. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.