Synopsis

Charleston’s top investigative TV reporter, Sydney Quinn, lives to expose the city’s darkest secrets. So when a former firefighter takes two paramedics hostage, she talks her way inside, offering to gather intel in exchange for a story that could boost her career.

But when Sydney finds the body of her friend, a local insurance executive, at the scene, the scoop of a lifetime turns personal. The hostage-taker swears he’s been framed, pulling Sydney into a web of cybercrime, stolen identities, and corporate corruption that stretches far beyond Charleston’s polished waterfront.

As she chases the truth through encrypted files and backroom deceptions, Sydney uncovers ties to a shadow network of hackers. Busting them should be routine…except she’s unraveling faster than her investigation. Haunted by the ambush she survived while embedded with the Marines in Iraq, she’s been outrunning her ghosts with fast cars and faster pitches at the batting cage. But when the cybercriminals turn their sights on her, Sydney must face her worst memories—and choose who to trust—before her name ends up on the next body tag.

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Excerpt

Sydney crabbed over to the Dorchester County sheriff ’s tactical van and hunched below a screened vent choked with an assortment of cords and cables spooling out. She squinted through a crack and could barely make out her pal, Detective Lieutenant Draymond “Dino” Bernadino, from the Charleston Police Department.

Dino adjusted a set of headphones and closed his eyes while focusing on whatever he was listening to. A few beats later, he snapped his fingers. “Is she dead? Bind his hands and feet.”

The undersheriff moved into view. “Huh?”

“Two voices. Part of the MAYDAY before it cuts out.” Dino lobbed the headphones to the sheriff ’s number-two man, then continued, “I’m glad that EMT had the presence of mind to activate the panic button on his radio. Gives us ten seconds maximum duration of a hot mic signal.”

The undersheriff jutted his lips in and out while he listened. “This is indeed confirmation of a hostile act. Medic 6 is under duress. Ops dig up anything on the homeowner?”

“Piper Kingston. Phone company provided an unlisted landline.” Dino cleared his throat. “Ms. Kingston may be injured—or worse.”

Sydney gasped and her pulse quickened.

Piper Kingston was a kind-hearted woman she’d dealt with during her own insurance business at Lansing Group. Divorced with a college-aged son, Piper came across as a firm but fair negotiator. The two managed to strike up a friendship, and Sydney understood Piper hated dickering with desperate people in their hour of need, as though monetary restitution could replace a lifetime of lost baubles and memories.

Sydney strangled her cell phone in a clenched fist, then forced herself to stay cool. She knew hostages ramped up any crisis. But this event had become personal.

“You run him to find if anything dredged up?” Dino asked.

“He’s clean,” the undersheriff said.

Sydney took that to mean the cops knew the name of the man behind all the hubbub and were working up an offender dossier. A steamy gust made her sweat and shudder at the same time.

Dino moved to a window positioned above her eavesdropping spot. Sydney pressed herself against the van, hoping the lieutenant couldn’t see her. She heard him flipping the shades, and he likely spotted NCPD officers muscling the press corps and lookie-loos down the block, expanding the security perimeter. With her back to the van and camouflaged by a leafy oleander, Sydney eyed firefighters from North Charleston’s fire department evacuating residents away from the Georgian while sheriff snipers flattened themselves on lush lawns and rooftops across the street.

Sydney knew all too well this was when the neighbors’ initial flurry of excitement would give way to a grim reality—an unmistakable transgression had punctured their tiny cocoon, and now would be a good time to curl up with arms wrapped tight around cinched knees. No amount of money, nor education, nor fame insulated those good people from full-blown catastrophe.

When she heard Dino move away from the window, Sydney re-chinned herself on tippy toes and watched him pass the phone to another deputy.

“Redial every two minutes until we find out what’s going on in there.” Dino keyed the command vehicle’s loudspeaker, causing Sydney to jump. “This is Lieutenant Bernadino, CPD. We’re going to talk sooner or later—you might as well answer.”

He made a grand arm gesture for the deputy to dial again.

When the assistant signaled no response, Dino re-keyed the loudspeaker. “Everyone okay? Anyone need a doctor? I can help.”

Crickets.

“Look, do me a favor and pick up the damn phone so I can stop using this bullhorn. I’ll call one more time.”

Dino signaled the uniformed deputy to put the call on speaker.

A man answered on the third ring. “F– you.” The guy disconnected without further fanfare.

The sheriff ’s team barked with laughter while Sydney muffled a giggle. Nothing particularly funny about crime or criminals. Yet gallows humor helped ratchet down tense and morose conditions

without erasing the concern everyone held for Piper or the EMS team. Besides, a well-placed f-bomb galvanized everyone’s attention.

Dino shook his head and thumbed the loudspeaker. His voice held no trace of the irritation showing on his face. “Thanks for breaking the ice.”

About the Author

After a successful career in the U.S. Navy, Wendy Gee now channels her boundless energy into community volunteering, leaving no stone unturned—or unpainted—at the Charleston Fire Department, Friends of the Lewes Public Library Board of Directors, and Sussex County Habitat for Humanity. A proud graduate of the University of Michigan, University of Arizona, Naval War College, and Old Dominion University, Wendy combines her academic prowess and life experiences into her writing.

Residing in Lewes, DE, she is an avid golfer, a diehard Detroit Tigers and Lions fan (even when they’re not winning, but so excited when they are), and a pickleball enthusiast who’s always ready to serve up some fun. Her work has been shortlisted with Killer Nashville and the Writer’s League of Texas. And as a lifetime member of Sisters in Crime, Wendy’s passion for the mystery genre is no secret—though she might leave a few clues lying around just for fun.

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