The water had kept its secret for thirty years. Dark. Still. Patient. Until the day it gave her back.
A decaying van pulled from the depths of Cold Water Creek. The remains of a woman no one reported missing. Detective Carter Caine has seen cold cases before. He's never seen one this cold, or this personal. Before he pulls at the first thread, a routine call goes wrong in the worst possible way. Caine ends up in the ICU, somewhere between alive and not. That's when she appears. A young girl. Silent. Desperate. Reaching toward him from somewhere that has no name. She isn't a hallucination. She's a message. And the closer Caine gets to understanding her, the closer he gets to a killer who has spent the past thirty years living in his circle.
Carter Caine has learned something about killers — They look like you and me.
A mesmerizing coming of age novel written in a memoir style depicting one man's fall from grace and the age-old struggle for redemption. This tender story is for anyone who has fallen and discovered the only way up is reaching out a hand to others.
"One of the most innovative mysteries in recent memory." - The Wall Street Journal
"... unique and absorbing" - Publishers Weekly
". . . A gripping story that grabs you from the start and keeps you guessing until the end" - Amy Mitropoulos - Podcaster
SAVING HEMINGWAY
The dead will tell you everything, whether you want to hear it or not
The Florida Keys smell like salt, sunscreen, and rum. It’s called paradise and it’s sold like a confession that comes with a drink. The truth is that paradise is a thin promise stretched over a long road and a lot of forgetting. Carter Caine came to the Keys to forget. To trade his badge for a barstool, his ghosts for a ocean breeze.
That dream lasted forty-eight hours. A woman murdered. A child vanished. And beneath the sunburned surface of this island paradise — a network of human trafficking and police corruption so deep, so protected, that the people who know about it have learned to look the other way.
But Caine can't look away. He never could. Not from a case, not from the spirits that press against the edge of his waking life, whispering things the living don't want him to know.
Out of his jurisdiction. Out of allies. Out of time. The only currency he has left is the truth — and with paradise this rotten, truth is the most dangerous thing you can carry.
