Some tales don’t want to be told. They’re shrouded in the dark and cloaked in danger. Sensible people leave those mysteries well enough alone. But not Debbie Bradley. After all, that’s how she makes her living.
The Poison Dart
Debbie Bradley Crime Mysteries Book 2
by Geri Dreiling
Genre: Mystery, Thriller
An overdose. A drug bust. A captive of the cartel. When fates collide, who will survive?
The ripple effects of an overdose send shock waves through a community.
A sweeping drug bust upends lives, exposing the cartel’s deep reach into the Midwest.
A quest for a better life threatens to destroy a family.
As Debbie Bradley digs deeper into each story, startling connections emerge. When fates collide, who will survive?
What readers are saying:
“The narrative contains the right blend of mystery, crime scenes and action. It is one of those books that keeps one glued until the very end.“
“Dreiling relies more on intelligent conversations, on the proper and strategic use of lies, and on wordplay“
“Grab or download a copy, curl up with a blanket on the couch, and enjoy this good read and solid, accurate, crime story with interesting twists and turns.“
“With a talent for plot creation, patiently unwinding the threads of all angles, and never lacking for excitement, Dreiling is an author you will want to read time and time again.“
Shortly after dusk on Thursday, Tom Wilkins guided his rig ’round to the back of an aging gas station in Lebanon, Missouri, parking it next to a diesel pump.
The truck stop had seen better days. Just off Interstate 44, the low red-brick building looked more like a bomb shelter than a place of business. The unleaded gas pumps for the non-trucker folks were sheltered by an awning the color of putty. The fact that it kept the rain and snow off highway travelers was the only luxury customers would encounter. But the big rigs and the diesel pumps didn’t merit shielding from storms.
The number of people pulling in to fill up had taken a dive over the past several years. The fading establishment couldn’t compete with the modern travel plaza on the other side of the highway. The newer place had hot showers, arcades, and clean bathrooms with an initialed sheet on the door noting the last time the washroom was tidied up. Parents driving minivans outfitted with DVD players that could play Frozen preferred the selection of junk food at the big chain travel stop. For the college kids bound for the Missouri University of Science and Technology in Rolla, the travel plaza was bright and well-lit, even on the darkest night.
By comparison, the lonely truck stop from a bygone era was gloomy, even on the brightest day. The patrons were little more than ghosts, customers who materialized briefly and vanished into the rural countryside or were swallowed whole by the nearby interstate.
But for Tom, the bleak vibe was a perk, not a drawback. And he was looking forward to his first break since leaving Wichita Falls, Texas, seven hours earlier. His truck had rumbled through Oklahoma City, Tulsa, and Joplin before finally reaching Lebanon. It was his first haul since the New Year’s holiday, which he’d spent home with the missus. It’d been nice to get back on the road after being cooped up in the house. But it was always the same thing; once he was driving, he couldn’t wait to hunker back down in his castle, even if it was a bit shabby on account of the fact that he never got around to working on that fixer-up list that his wife had in her head.
Tom turned off the engine and grabbed the faded blue-and-white flannel jacket crumpled on the empty passenger seat. He pulled it on and patted the right-side pocket to check for his wallet. Despite the cold outside, he left the front of his coat open. It was too much trouble to suck in his belly to pull the zipper up. The trucker braced himself before opening the door and tugged at the John Deere cap covering his silver hair to ensure it wouldn’t blow off. After the warm cocoon of the cabin, the outside air would be like the slap of a jealous lover.
He smiled. He was too old to remember what it was like to have a jealous lover. Once upon a time, he’d tried having a route mistress and a home wife. Once. The missus had caught on purty quick. You could call her lots of things, but fool wasn’t one of ’em. She’d laid down the law. He could only have one woman. He had to choose, she said. He chose her. He hadn’t stepped out since. No siree. You only crossed the missus once.
Tom eased himself down from his perch and walked toward the entrance, still stiff-legged from his journey, his gray-stubbled face bent down to ward off the wind. He opened the door and entered the shop.
“Howdy,” the truck stop clerk mumbled as she looked away from the fuzzy screen of a tiny television nestled in the corner of the counter. Her gaze was just long enough to give her customer the once-over. She ran her chapped, ruddy hands through the home-dyed brownish-red hair that framed her lined face. The only trace left of her youthful good looks was her blue eyes.
“Evenin’,” he said, his chin dipping slightly to tip the bill of his cap.
The clerk shoved her hands into the front pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. She hunched her shoulders against the chill the driver brought in with him, then turned her attention back to the game show she’d been watching.
The trucker made his way to the cooler in the back of the store, ignoring a shelf stuffed with packages of white laces for customers whose shoes didn’t need tying. Nope, the people who bought these laces were looking for something to wrap around an arm to get a better vein before shooting up. The driver reached into the refrigerated compartment and grabbed a Mountain Dew. It’d get him through the last four hours of his trip to St. Louis to drop off furniture at a big chain’s warehouse.
He grabbed a Slim Jim from an aisle display and set his purchases on the counter next to the cash register. Nearby, roses in glass tubes sat on a cardboard display. The perfect gift for the crack addict; remove the rose, and the glass becomes a pipe.
“Why don’t you also give me a Mega Million?” Tom said to the clerk. “How’s it goin’?”
The cashier’s eyes shifted away from the television to the black-and-white monitors that received information from the surveillance cameras around the building’s exterior. The only vehicle seen was the semi that belonged to her sole customer.
“Been quiet,” she said as she rang up his purchase. “That’ll be four dollars fifty-three cents.”
The driver reached for his wallet, pulled out a fifty, and handed it to the clerk.
She punched a few keys into the register, and the drawer opened with a clang. She fished out his change. “Here you go,” she said as she handed him the coins, holding back the wad of bills that made up the difference between the fifty and his purchase. That stack she stuffed into the front pocket of her sweatshirt.
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Crime Beat Girl
Debbie Bradley Crime Mysteries Book 1
A girl is dead. A boy is locked up. Can Debbie Bradley discover the truth before more lives are lost…maybe even her own?
A series of deadly shootings. An outbreak of stolen cars. When journalist Debbie Bradley returns home to St. Louis, the summer crime wave has started. And she’s in the center: A witness, a reporter, a target.
Debbie’s reasons for leaving behind her promising career in Washington D.C. were complicated. Her mother, a prominent lawyer, was diagnosed with cancer. Her engagement was cooling. When she got offered a job in St. Louis that she hadn’t been looking for, Debbie recognized an opportunity. Or an escape.
But she didn’t expect to come home and see a girl die. Debbie never planned to investigate a boy behind bars. And she didn’t anticipate colliding with hostile cops and wary politicians.
As her work gains attention, Debbie gathers enemies. Will her assignment to cover the St. Louis crime beat be her last?
What readers are saying:
“Intense crime story full of unexpected twists and turns” — Readers’ Favorite, 5-Star Review
“Gripping crime story…with deep themes and highlighting very real problems” — Readers’ Favorite, 5-Star Review
“A page-turner, engaging the reader from the first page to the last” — Readers’ Favorite, 5-Star Review
Debbie noticed that her phone had gone quiet. Either she was going in the right direction or her app had crashed. Again. She took one hand off the steering wheel and adjusted her glasses as she peered at the small screen. She put the phone back down and tucked a strand of her thick, wavy hair the color of a roasted chestnut shell back into her tight ponytail. Maybe it’s time to turn back, she thought. But a retreat wouldn’t get her to the Teen Alliance interview.
She needed to focus on the assignment. It was easy enough–interviewing the executive director of a nonprofit. Teen Alliance was an organization trying to give kids from families with little means healthy ways to spend their free time. It would be a puff piece, and although light, fluffy, positive stories weren’t really her strength, Sam thought it would be a way for Debbie to get into the groove of magazine reporting, as well as help her grow her contact list of local movers and shakers.
The repeated blare of a car horn shook Debbie out of her reverie.
She turned her head toward the sound that pierced the eerie quiet. It was coming from a blue, rust-pocked pickup truck driven by a silver-haired man. The truck was headed toward her, traveling in its lane, and yet the driver was pointing at Debbie and then pointing at his rearview mirror.
Instinctively, Debbie looked into her own rearview. That’s when she spotted a red Audi convertible weaving wildly in and out of her lane–and the truck’s lane–and was not slowing down.
Debbie lurched her steering wheel abruptly to the right. The oncoming truck veered in the opposite direction, leaving as much room as possible for the erratic luxury car barreling down the roadway and any driver unfortunate enough to be sharing the space.
The out-of-control Audi swerved toward the truck, then sharply careened the opposite way, its front aimed at Debbie’s car. Debbie’s heart lurched into her throat. The Audi’s tires squealed. The nose of the Audi turned sharply once again and clipped the back end of the truck before jumping the curb.
Screams rang out. A crowd of teens who had been gathered outside a tiny market–the sort that sells junk food, liquor, and lottery tickets in places where chain grocery stores refuse to operate–was in the path of the Audi that was no longer being guided by its driver.
Those on the edges of the group scattered like birds after the loud boom of a gunshot, darting out of the car’s path. Those who were in the center, the unlucky ones, flew into the air when the car connected with human flesh.
Debbie slammed on her brakes, threw her car into park, and grabbed her phone to dial 911.
The Audi finally came to a stop after the front end and hood smashed through the display window of the market. Customers still clutching red plastic baskets and a worker wearing a green apron stumbled out the front door, dazed and confused.
Debbie jumped out of her car. There were people broken and bleeding on the ground. Some wailed. One teen who had been tossed in the air and then left crumpled in a heap on the earth looked at Debbie with a vacant gaze, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
As Debbie ran toward the Audi, rage filled her chest.
She flung open the car’s door with all the strength that anger fuels. The driver, slumped over a deployed airbag, moaned. His feet barely reached the pedals, and his tear-streaked cheeks were round with the baby fat he hadn’t lost.
He was just a child.
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Geri L. Dreiling is the author of Crime Beat Girl, the debut novel in the Debbie Bradley Mystery series, which received seven book awards. She is also the author of Erasing the Past. Dreiling is an award-winning journalist as well as professor and lawyer. She lives in St. Louis.
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This looks like a great novel. Thanks for hosting this tour.
This sounds like a good thriller. I like the cover art.