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The Shameless (A Quinn Colson Novel, Band 9) - Softcover

Buch 9 von 11: Quinn Colson

Atkins, Ace

 
9780525539476: The Shameless (A Quinn Colson Novel, Band 9)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0525539476 ISBN 13: 9780525539476
Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2020

Inhaltsangabe

Buried secrets, dirty lies, and unbridled greed and ambition raise the stakes down South in the lauded crime series from New York Times bestselling author Ace Atkins.

Twenty years ago, Brandon Taylor was thought to be just another teen boy who ended his life too soon. That's what almost everyone in Tibbehah County, Mississippi, said after his body and hunting rifle were found in the Big Woods. Now two New York-based reporters show up asking Sheriff Quinn Colson questions about the Taylor case. What happened to the evidence? Where are the missing files? Who really killed Brandon?

Quinn wants to help. After all, his wife Maggie was a close friend of Brandon Taylor. But Quinn was just a kid himself in 1997, and these days he's got more on his plate than twenty-year-old suspicious death. He's trying to shut down the criminal syndicate that's had a stranglehold on Tibbehah for years, trafficking drugs, stolen goods, and young women through the MidSouth. Truck stop madam Fannie Hathcock runs most of that action, and has her eyes on taking over the whole show. And then there's Senator Jimmy Vardaman, who's cut out the old political establishment riding the Syndicate's money and power--plus a hefty helping of racism and ignorance--straight to the governor's office. If he manages to get elected, the Syndicate will be untouchable. Tibbehah will be lawless.

Quinn's been fighting evil and corruption since he was a kid, at home or as a U.S. Army Ranger in Afghanistan and Iraq. This time, evil may win out.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Ace Atkins is the author of twenty-three books, including eight Quinn Colson novels, the first two of which, The Ranger and The Lost Ones, were nominated for the Edgar Award for Best Novel (he also has a third Edgar nomination for his short story "Last Fair Deal Gone Down"). In addition, he is the author of seven New York Times-bestselling novels in the continuation of Robert B. Parker's Spenser series. Before turning to fiction, he was a correspondent for the St. Petersburg Times and a crime reporter for the Tampa Tribune, and he played defensive end for Auburn University football.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Tashi Coleman
Thin Air podcast
Episode 1: BRANDON
 
Last year, Brandon Taylor’s sister contacted me through social media with a simple but urgent question: WILL YOU PLEASE COME TO MISSISSIPPI TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BROTHER?
            It was just like that, written in all in caps, with little information about who she was or who her brother had been. She said she’d heard our earlier podcasts about missing people, murders, and botched police investigations. Over the course of the next several months, Shaina Taylor messaged me with countless newspaper articles, family photos, and details of candlelight vigils and walk-a-thons to find out who killed Brandon.
             On the last day his family saw him, Brandon said he planned to go deer hunting after school, a regular pastime in north Mississippi. He came home, grabbed a cold ham biscuit and a Mountain Dew and his Remington rifle. He parked his Chevy Apache pickup off a county road and walked into a large parcel of land that adjoined a national forest. He never walked out.
            For days, rescue crews searched the woods, crossing over the same thick forest time and again. More than a week later, Brandon’s body was found, ravaged by animals, time and weather. The local sheriff ruled his death a suicide after a brief investigation. His rifle was located nearby, fired once. A bullet in his skull.
His family and friends never believed it. His sister said every step of the police and forensic work had been a mess. A proper autopsy was never performed and possible suspects never questioned. Not to mention, she said, no one in their county ever wanted the case solved. The truth would only embarrass some powerful people and call into question the motive of the county sheriff, a good and decent old man named Hamp Beckett. Over a series of dozens of heartbreaking messages, Shaina Taylor turned to us and said we were her last hope.
We receive countless requests like Shaina’s every day from all over the country. Thousands of people disappear or die without solid answers for their families. Shaina said her brother lived an idyllic life in a small Southern town. She called him a normal fifteen-year-old boy, with loads of friends, a classic old truck, and a new girlfriend he’d met over that past summer. She said he was a great baseball player who hoped to play in the major leagues, a guitar player who idolized Garth Brooks, and a blossoming journalist.
            The last part of what got me. Brandon Taylor had been a student journalist and had been a valuable member of the yearbook staff. He could’ve been anyone on our team of reporters. His family deserved answers.
            So last summer, I packed up the few belongings that I have and met up with my producer, Jessica Torres, to drive from New York City down to Tibbehah County, Mississippi. It’s a rural county known for sweet potatoes and some recent sensational stories about drug dealers and a young crusading sheriff – coincidentally or not, the nephew of the old sheriff. Some real Walking Tall meets Faulkner kind of stories. As always, we tried to make ourselves invisible as we worked, talking to Brandon’s family members, friends, and local law enforcement, both retired and present. What resulted wasn’t quite the story we hoped to find.
Instead, we uncovered something much darker and more sinister, a true meditation on today’s society. What do we truly value? Lies or facts. Posturing or morality. But to explain all that now would be taking you way too far down the country roads of Mississippi.
            First, I must tell you about this boy, Brandon Taylor, and his 1955 Chevy Apache truck. It was a cold, rainy day in November 1997 and there was a rumor about the largest buck in the county wandering somewhere near County Road 334 . . .
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
1
Lillie Virgil had been bird-dogging Wes Davis’s sorry ass for most of the summer, from Panama City to New Orleans and now back to Biloxi. The top-shelf turd leaving had left a trail of filthy motel rooms, unpaid restaurant tabs, and jilted strippers. The last one being his undoing, a cute little piece of tail named Twilight who he’d brought with him from Tibbehah County on his run from the law. He was wanted on charges of drug trafficking, racketeering, and the attempted murder of a close friend of Lillie’s, a one-armed trucker named Boom Kimbrough.
            “This is it?” Lillie said, pointing to the old neon sign reading STAR INN. It was early morning, not long past dawn, as the two had made the drive all the way from Memphis through the night to the Gulf Coast. Through the open windows, you could smell the salt air on the hot wind.
            “Yep,” Twilight said, playing with the ends of her bleached blonde hair, the tips tinged with a purplish hue. “We spent a week here last month. Eating shrimp po’ boys and drinkin’ Jim Beam. Now do I get my money or what?”
            “Depends on if he’s here,” Lillie said. “And sweetie? Would you mind not putting your feet on my fucking dash.”
            The girl took down her bare feet, with those stubby purple painted toes, as Lillie parked the gray Dodge Charger across the road, right outside the Sharkheads T-shirt shop, the entrance a wide gaping mouth with sharp teeth. Across the road, The Star motel sign advertised LOW RATES. JACUZZI ROOMS. CABLE TV & SWIMMING POOL. Real class with a capital K.
            “Did Wes at least spring for the Jacuzzi?” Lillie asked.
            “No, ma’am,” Twilight said. “That should’ve told me something. We got a cheap-ass room overlooking the fucking parking lot. I laid out on the beach every day while he lay in bed watching goddamn cartoons and smoking American Spirit lights. I’d get in as the sun was going down, thinking we were going for a steak dinner, and he’d just be lying there drunk as hell and wanting me to suck his peter.”
            “That’s some real romance right there, kid,” Lillie said. “Bogart and Bacall shit. Now would you reach in the back seat for my binoculars? I think I spot Romeo up there on the second floor scratching his nuts.”
            Five days ago, Twilight, whose real name was Tiffany Dement but went by Twilight to avoid professional confusion, checked in with her momma back in El Dorado, Arkansas. Lillie, a U.S. Federal Marshal, had visited Mrs. Dement back in June and made sure the woman kept her on speed dial if she heard a word from her daughter, a former straight-A student and churchgoer. Momma was worried sick, as her baby had left...

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Verlag
Penguin Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2020
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0525539476
ISBN 13 
9780525539476
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
544
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
gpsr@libri.de
gpsr@libri.de

Europaallee 1
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