Second Watch. J. A. Jance

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       Copyright

       Harper

      An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

      77–85 Fulham Palace Road

      Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      First published in the UK by HarperCollinsPublishers 2014

      First published in the USA by William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 2013

      Copyright © J. A. Jance 2013

      Cover design © Richard L Aquan

      Cover photograph © Nomadic Luxury / Getty Images

      J. A. Jance asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

      A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

      This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books

      Source ISBN: 9780007531967

      Ebook Edition © 2014 ISBN: 9780007531974

      Version: 2014-09-15

       Dedication

      For Bonnie and Doug and all those missing years, and for all those other great guys—the ones who came home and the ones who didn’t. And also for Rhys, one of the ones who did come home. Thank you.

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Copyright

      Dedication

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

       Chapter 22

       Chapter 23

       Chapter 24

       Chapter 25

       Chapter 26

       Chapter 27

       Author’s Note

       The Story Behind Second Watch

       About the Author

       By J. A. Jance

       About the Publisher

       PROLOGUE

      We left the P-2 level of the parking lot at Belltown Terrace ten minutes later than we should have. With Mel Soames at the wheel of her Cayman and with me belted into the passenger seat, we roared out of the garage, down the alley between John and Cedar, and then up Cedar to Second Avenue.

      Second is one of those rare Seattle thoroughfares where, if you drive just at or even slightly below the speed limit, you can sail through one green light after another, from the Denny Regrade all the way to the International District. I love Mel dearly, but the problem with her is that she doesn’t believe in driving “just under” any speed limit, ever. That’s not her style, and certainly not on this cool September morning as we headed for the Swedish Orthopedic Institute, one of the many medical facilities located in a neighborhood Seattle natives routinely call Pill Hill.

      Mel was uncharacteristically silent as she drove hell-bent for election through downtown Seattle, zipping through intersections just as the lights changed from yellow to red. I checked to be sure my seat belt was securely fastened and kept my backseat-driving tendencies securely in check. Mel does not respond well to backseat driving.

      “Are you okay?” she asked when the red light at Cherry finally brought her to a stop.

      The truth is, I wasn’t okay. I’ve been a cop all my adult life. I’ve been in gunfights and knife fights and even the occasional fistfight. There have been numerous times over the years when I’ve had my butt hauled off to an ER to be stitched up or worse. What all those inadvertent,

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