Publisher: Harlequin
On Sale: November 10, 2020
ISBN: 9781335403148
Price: $5.99
A closed case brings a new threat. Detective Bradley
McGregor and his K-9 partner, King, come to the rescue when journalist Sasha
Eastman’s targeted by a shooter who looks just like her mother’s murderer. But
that killer supposedly died years ago in a shootout with the police. Now it’s
up to Bradley and King to protect Sasha…but how can they stop a killer who’s
already dead?
THE THRILLING TRUE BLUE K-9 UNIT: BROOKLYN SERIES CONCLUSIONPurchase links:
Harlequin.com Barnes & Noble Amazon Indie Bound Walmart
Enjoy this excerpt:
Excerpt for DELAYED JUSTICE by Shirlee McCoy
Sasha Eastman had never been afraid to stand on a crowded
street corner in Sheepshead Bay, New York. She’d waited at crosswalks hundreds
of times, standing amid throngs of people all staring at phones or streetlights
and then flowing like lemmings across the roads. She knew the ebb of city
life—the busy, noisy, thriving world of people and vehicles and emergency
sirens. Since her father’s death two years ago, she found the crowds
comforting. Each morning she walked out of her quiet apartment and reminded
herself that she wasn’t alone, that there was a city filled with people
surrounding her. She didn’t need more than that. She didn’t want more. She
liked being free of the emotional entanglement relationships brought—the highs
and lows, joys and heartbreaks. She’d lost her mother at fourteen years old,
lost her ex-husband to another woman after three years of marriage. She’d lost
her father to cancer, and she had no intention of losing anyone ever again.
Being alone was fine. It was good. She was happy with her two-bedroom apartment
and the silence she returned to after a long day of work. She had always felt
safe and content in the life she had created.
And then he’d appeared.
First, just at the edge of her periphery—a quick glimpse
that had made her blood run cold. The hooked nose, the hooded eyes, the stature
that was just tall enough to make him stand out in a crowd. She’d told herself
she was overtired, working too hard, thinking too much about the past. Martin
Roker had died in a gun battle with the police eighteen years ago, shortly
after he had murdered Sasha’s mother. He was not wandering the streets
of New York City. He wasn’t stalking her. He wouldn’t jump out of her closet in
the dead of night.
And yet she hadn’t been able to shake the anxiety that
settled in the pit of her stomach.
She had seen him again a day later. Full-on face view of a
man who should be dead. He’d been standing across the street from the small
studio where she taped her show for the local-access cable station, WBKN. She’d
walked outside at dusk, ready to return home after a few hours of working on
her story. The one she was finally ready to tell: the tragedy of losing a
family member to murder and the triumph that could come from it. Her mind had
been in the past, her thoughts dwelling on those minutes and hours after she
had learned of her mother’s death. She’d been looking at her phone, wondering
if she should visit the police precinct to ask for the case file on her
mother’s murder. When she looked up, he had been across the street.
And now…
Now she was afraid in a way she couldn’t remember ever being
before. Afraid that she would see him again; worried that delving into past
heartaches had unhinged her mind and made her vulnerable to imagining things
that couldn’t possibly exist.
Like a dead man walking the streets.
She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder, determined to
push the fear away. Martin Roker was dead. He had died eighteen years ago—a
forty-year-old man who had forced the police to shoot him. He couldn’t possibly
be stalking her. Even if he had lived, even if he had decided to hunt her down
for some twisted reason, he wouldn’t still look like a forty-year-old man. He
would have aged.
Her cell phone rang and she glanced down, dismissing the
number as a solicitor’s. When she looked up again, the light had changed and
the crowd was moving. She stepped off the curb, scanning the area, her heart
jumping as she met cold blue eyes.
He was there! Right in her path, looking into her eyes as if
he were daring her to come closer. Hooked nose. Blondish hair. Taller by a
couple of inches than the people around him.
She turned away, heart in her throat, pulse racing. She
glanced back, sure that he would be gone. He was crossing the street with long,
determined strides, his cold gaze focused on Sasha. Hands deep in the pockets
of his coat, shoulders squared, he moved through the crowd without breaking eye
contact. Terrified, she ran back the way she had come, dodging the throng of
people returning home after work. The studio was three blocks away. She’d go
there and call for a cab, because she couldn’t call the police and say a dead
man was stalking her.
Could she?
She glanced back again, hoping he had been a figment of her
imagination and that maybe she was simply exhausted from too many nights
thinking about the past and her mother’s murder.
He was still there! Moving quickly and gaining on her.
This was real!
He was real!
She ducked into a corner bakery, smiling at the man behind
the counter as she ran to the display case and pretended to look at the
pastries.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Just looking,” she murmured, her mouth dry with fear, the
smile still pasted on her face. She knew how to fake happiness. She knew how to
pretend everything was okay. She’d done it after her mother’s murder because
she hadn’t wanted her father to worry. She’d done it after her ex-husband,
Michael, had told her he was in love with another woman, packed his bags and
walked out of their apartment. She’d put on her smiles and she had faked her
happiness. She was ready to be more authentic. She wanted to be.
She wanted to tell her story and share her experiences. She
wanted to hunt for the good in New York City’s crowded streets and boroughs and
give people something to smile about.
Had her determination to do that caused the past to be
resurrected?
About the author:
New York Times best-selling author
Shirlee McCoy loves books. She loves reading them. She loves writing them. She
loves sharing them with family, friends, and total strangers on airplanes and
in doctors' offices. It's no surprise that she loves being an author. Her first
book was published in 2004. Since then, she's written more than 55 novels. Her
books have appeared on the New York Times, Publisher's Weekly, and USA Today
bestsellers lists. When she's not writing, she enjoys spending time with family
and friends and volunteering as a member of Chesapeake Search Dogs - a
non-profit organization dedicated to finding the lost and missing and bringing
closure to their families. A former teacher, she takes pleasure in helping
others pursue their writing goals and enjoys sharing her knowledge with
aspiring authors. She enjoys hearing from readers and writers. You can email
her at shirlee@shirleemccoy.com or catch up with her life and writing at
http://shirleemccoy.blogspot.com/
