Toxic Relationship

Nick Sibelius moved to the small Texas town of Pflugerville, turned Austin suburb, to set up a private investigation business, find some peace and maybe, himself, after a murdered partner, a cheating wife and a lost job in Houston. When a couple disappears and a bass fisherman turns up dead, he finds himself drawn into a web of toxic relationships: MaryLou, a beautiful woman with a mysterious past, Junior, a failed farmer whose best intentions seem to always result in a dead body, and Barry, a sociopathic dentist turned illegal toxic waste entrepreneur with visions of grandeur.

When the felon who killed his partner in Houston joins forces with Barry, Nick must not only stop the toxic waste dumping while finding his client’s missing daughter, but keep from being killed in the process. In the end, MaryLou’s dark secret will either help him or kill him—whichever comes first.

Excerpt: 

“Mr. Pendleton. Call off your dogs. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Nick’s pulse quickened at the distinctive two part sound of a 12 gauge shell being chambered. He threw his car in reverse, the big V-8 roaring, tires eating into the dirt track, a cloud of dust enveloping him, as he put the truck between himself and the shotgun. A blast, shattering the passenger side glass, sprayed across his seat, but Nick had already opened his door, rolling out onto the ground. He made his way to the back tire, listening for Junior Pendleton’s position. Junior made it easy.

“Get the hell off my property, goddammit. You got no right to be here.”

Crouching, Nick used the rear of his truck for cover. Junior had walked up to Nick’s pick up, sticking his head through the shot out window. Nick rushed him from behind, slamming him hard into the truck, the shotgun firing into the ground by Junior’s feet.

Junior screamed, “Sonofabitch. My damn foot. Son-of-a-bitch.”

Nick kept Junior jammed into the window, ripping the gun away from the farmer’s hand. As Junior continued to struggle, cursing, Nick noticed several pellet holes clearly visible in the man’s worn cowboy boots.

“I don’t think that’s how you want to start this conversation, Junior.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Just somebody who wants to ask you a few questions. You don’t mind now, do you?” Nick kneed him in the butt, shoving him deeper into the truck window, suspending Junior’s feet off the ground.”

“Sonofabitch. What’cha want? That thief I killt had it comin’ and the court agreed.”

“Not here about a thief, Junior.”

“Then what are you here about?”