Fever Dream: A Daniel Rinaldi Mystery #2 (Daniel Rinaldi Series)

Fever Dream: A Daniel Rinaldi Mystery #2 (Daniel Rinaldi Series)

Dennis Palumbo

Language: English

Pages: 250

ISBN: 1590589599

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


There's a sweltering heat wave outside. Nearly a year after Pittsburgh psychologist and trauma expert Daniel Rinaldi helped unravel a baffling murder, he finds himself drawn into another case.
When a daring bank robbery goes horribly wrong, resulting in the deaths of all the hostages except one, Rinaldi is called in to question Treva Williams, the traumatized young woman who survived. However, what seemed a simple robbery soon explodes into a series of events that plunge the investigating officers, Sgt. Harry Polk and Det. Eleanor Lowrey--as well as Rinaldi himself--into a vortex of mistaken identity and kidnapping.
Meanwhile, thrown together by the demands of the case, Rinaldi and Eleanor deal with the growing attraction between them. Then there's the gubernatorial campaign of Rinaldi's former romantic rival, District Attorney Leland Sinclair. Plot twists multiply as a frenzy of accusations and political maneuvering gathers steam.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

caught off guard. The elevator door rumbled open. Treva Williams, lips trembling, stood in the doorway. “Dr. Rinaldi?” I took a step toward her. “Treva! No—” “I saw you both go in the service door. But then I got worried, so I followed you in and—” Suddenly, Fletcher reached past me and grabbed Treva’s arm. Dragged her roughly inside the elevator car. I whirled to face him. And found myself staring at the barrel of a small, ugly revolver he’d slipped from his jacket. A revolver he held

gave her a quizzical look. “Just to make sure you get your head examined.” She was smiling. “If you know what I mean.” “Funny. You’re a funny person.” We were about a dozen feet away from the entrance when I heard Lt. Biegler explode in anger. I looked back to see him screaming curses to the few remaining uniforms. Waving his arms. Literally ranting. “What’s going on?” I asked Eleanor. “I think he just realized something. I noticed it myself a minute ago, but kept my mouth shut.” “Realized

personal guests to the debate Saturday night. It’s going to be on-campus at Pitt. Hillman Library. And aired live throughout the state.” “So you and Garrity’s handlers finally agreed on the ground rules?” He nodded vigorously. “Closed the deal an hour ago. Had to bargain away Lee’s left nut—sorry, Detective—but John Garrity’s such a coward we had no choice. Though it sure ain’t pretty. Two minute time limits. No rebuttals. Rules so restrictive you can barely call it a debate.” Eleanor said,

window glass. Sipped my beer. Looked and listened. Sparse river traffic, the mournful sound of a lone tugboat. The streets emptying of cars and pedestrians. The hum of drive-time vehicles on the Parkway, heading for home. The scattered glow of lamps coming on behind office windows. The city gathering itself up for the evening, as the day gathered up its light. I swallowed a sigh. My favorite time of day, right before darkness falls, and I was spending it at a window table with ADA Dave Parnelli.

the ante. Maybe it was an accident, maybe not. But one of the hookers he beats the shit out of suddenly dies. Heart stops, whatever. So now he’s got a dead hooker on his hands. So he goes to his brother—these fuckin’ Ruskies, it’s all about family, ya know? Kinda touchin’. Anyway, he goes to the brother and says, hey, I got a dead hooker in the trunk of my car. Brother says, what am I supposed to do about it? My guy says, well, let’s not waste an opportunity here. Which, bein’ enterprisin’ young

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