Lyle - Hot Lights, Cold Steel

What kind of sick fuck would do that? T-Tommy asked. Hack up these girls, patch them up, and then kill them?

The worlds full of candidates, Stone said.

Maybe some surgeon decided to dump his bad cases, one of the techs said.

Stone offered a grim laugh. Probably an HMO.

T-Tommy returned his attention to the bodies. Cause of death? No way he could tell. Hed leave that to the MEs.

He stood and circled the corpses. He noticed the edge of a tattoo peeking around the side of one of the bodies. It was low, near the base of the spine. He tugged on a pair of latex gloves, dropped to one knee, and rolled the body on one side. The stiffness told him that death had been at least twenty-four hours or so earlier and not more than forty-eight. Fit the level of decay and the lack of visible maggots. Sometime Wednesday most likely. He could now see that the tattoo, a yellow rose wrapped in thorns, extended across the victims lower back. Shit.

Thats her, Stone said. In report this morning we got a BOLO on a missing girl. Blonde, nineteen, rose tattoo on her back. Ive got it in my car. Ill see who filed it.

T-Tommy stood. Dub Walker.

What?

Dub Walker filed it. Hes looking for her. T-Tommy sighed and looked up. The sun approached its noonday zenith in the cloudless sky, and the temperature had begun its daily rise. Nothing like a double homicide to screw up a perfect spring day.

Stress Fracture is a cunning, imaginative thriller that will keep you up reading as I did, riveted from first page to last.

Michael Palmer, MD, New York Times best-selling author of The Last Surgeon

... D.P. Lyle writes the perfect prescription for a psychological thriller.

L. Dean Murphy, BookReporter.com

D.P. Lyles Stress Fracture is an intense, nail-biting adventure. The authors knowledgeable voice adds a fear factor that cant easily be found. A wonderful, thrilling read, an excellent work of fictionand more!

New York Times best-selling author Heather Graham

The writing is hard-edged and visually evocative, and readers of dark serial-killer thrillers will definitely want to read this one.

David Pitt, Booklist Magazine

Lyle writes what he knowsand what he knows is terrific. Dub Walker is a keeper.

Lee Child, international best-selling author of the Reacher thrillers

Cutting-edge forensics and a whip-cracking pace make Stress Fracture a one-sitting read. If you love CSI, this is the book for you.

Tess Gerritsen, New York Times best-selling author of The Keepsake

D.P. Lyles Stress Fracture is just what I love in a book: lightning paced, brutally executed, dynamic characters, and a story that grips you by the throat. If Michael Crichton had written an episode of Law and Order, here might be the result. Simply brilliant!

James Rollins, New York Times best-selling author of The Doomsday Key

Published 2011 by Medallion Press, Inc.

The MEDALLION PRESS LOGO
is a registered trademark of Medallion Press, Inc.

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment from this stripped book.

Copyright 2011 by D.P. Lyle
Cover design by James Tampa
Edited by Helen A Rosburg and Lorie Popp

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the authors imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Typeset in Adobe Garamond Pro
Printed in the United States of America
Title font set in Cacavia01

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Lyle, D. P.
Hot lights, cold steel / D.P. Lyle.
p. cm. -- (Dub Walker series ; bk. 2)
ISBN-13: 978-1-60542-181-0 (alk. paper)
ISBN-10: 1-60542-181-2 (alk. paper)
1. Serial murder investigation--Fiction. I. Title.
PS3612.Y43H67 2011
813.6--dc22

2010049652

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition

My wonderful agent, Kimberley Cameron of Kimberley Cameron & Associates.

My editors, Helen Rosburg and Lorie Popp, for their excellent insights and tireless work on this manuscript.

My parents, Victor and Elaine Lyle, and of course Nan, for their unwavering support.

All the great people at Medallion Press.

W EDNESDAY 7:32 P.M.

I T HAD BEEN A NEARLY PERFECT DAY.

Got a lot done. Finished the final edits on my next book. This one about how evidence in criminal cases linked up, formed a chain, or maybe a noose for the bad guys. I titled it Linkage: How Evidence Makes the Case. With a keystroke I had fired it back to my editor. Few things felt better than final edits.

Time to relax.

Now, I lounged in a redwood Adirondack chair and worked the fret board of my Martin D-18. I bent out a few riffs and a couple of new turnarounds to Red House, the original John Lee Hooker version, not the Hendrix electrified one. I added a backbeat with my bare heel against the wooden deck.

Im Dub Walker, and I own a small cottage on the western slope of Monte Sano Mountain, one of the final remnants of the Appalachian chain. From the deck, I had a 180-degree view over Huntsville. The sun had settled beneath the horizon, and the citys lights were rapidly winking on. A warm breeze came up from the valley.

Earlier, around noon, an electrical storm had blown through. A real thunder-boomer. The kind that rattled windows and fractured the sky with pulse after pulse of lightning, some seemingly reluctant to let go. The kind that all too often spun off a tornado or two. But this one quickly moved eastward, leaving behind clean air, crystal blue skies, and now a perfect Southern spring night. The kind you wanted to go on forever.

Wasnt going to happen, though.

I leaned the Martin against the chair, went inside, poured a hefty glass of Blantons bourbon, and flipped on the stereo. Buddy Guy churned out Feels Like Rain. Back outside, I eased into the chair and closed my eyes. Buddy hit his stride, and I fell into the music.

Im not sure whether I dozed or merely drifted with the music, but I sat up when I heard footsteps coming around the house. A woman stepped onto the deck and walked toward me.

A woman I hadnt seen in ten years. Still beautiful. Still unforgettable.

I stood. Miranda?

Dub, you havent changed a bit, she said.

And youre as gorgeous as ever. What brings you here?

Sorry to barge in. I was going to ring the doorbell but then heard the music and guessed you were back this way.

I hugged her. When I broke the embrace, I noticed her eyes were red and her face drawn. Whats wrong?

I was going to call. Miranda sighed. Truth is, I wasnt sure I would come here. I put it off. I sat out front for half an hour, trying to decide.

Whats wrong? I asked again.