Read The Perfect Candidate: A Lance Priest / Preacher Thriller (No. 1) Online
Authors: Christopher Metcalf
The Perfect Candidate: A Lance Priest / Preacher Thriller (No. 1) (40 page)
“A coworker of hers told me that George had asked her to marry him and she politely declined. He got more than a little mad and when she asked him to leave, he said no. He threatened to hurt her and even worse, hurt you and your brother.” Braden watched Lance for his reaction to this news.
Preacher was silent for a moment. “So he was a bad man. Just like I said.”
“It also brought into play Wyrick’s theory that she may have been involved in some way.” Braden added.
“But she wasn’t, right?” Lance was leading with this response.
“Her alibi that night was airtight. She was at a friend’s with your brother. Someone was with her every moment that evening.”
“So it was suicide, just plain ol’ suicide by a drunk guy who had lost his woman and didn’t want to go on.” Lance looked at the ceiling again. The look on his face best resembled relief.
“Textbook.” Braden was relieved as well. He believed the past few minutes had been truly helpful for Lance. He had helped him move past a place he had been stuck for 12 years. Braden felt like they had finally achieved something during a session with Lance. This was the way it was supposed to work. He added, “It was just suicide. It wasn’t your mom’s fault or yours. It was nobody’s fault.”
Lance looked back down from the ceiling. The look of relief still on his face. “Well that’s that then, right?”
“Yep. Your mother wasn’t involved. You weren’t involved. It was just him.” Braden looked at his notes for a moment. And then back to Lance with a question in his eyes. “I know your mother was with someone that evening until she left with your brother to go pick you up at 10 p.m. I don’t have it in my notes, where did she pick you up from?”
Lance continued the look of relief, even rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. Then he looked Braden square in the eyes, “I was at the video arcade.” A smile came onto Lance’s face as he recalled the place. “I loved to play that game Galaga. You know, where you shoot all the alien ships coming down. I think I set a new record on that machine that
night.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
So, here is where you are supposed to read some information about Christopher Metcalf. Okay, the basics – he’s married to the beautiful Diana and they have five, yes five, kids. They live in Oklahoma. You can learn more about the author or contact Chris by visiting www.christophermetcalf.com.
Chris really appreciates your time and hopes you enjoyed reading
The Perfect Candidate
. Lance is quite a character. Chris learns new things about Preacher every day. Be on the lookout for
The Perfect Weapon
. The second book in the Lance Priest series will be published in 2012. Preacher is challenged like never before. He must face a brilliant terrorist bomber, his own mortality and his feelings for a certain former KGB operative. It gets a little messy. Thanks again for your time.
THE
PERFECT
WEAPON
Coming Soon
February 26, 1993
The billowing smoke was evidence of what could have been. The buildings still stood. Was it luck? Did they not put enough explosives in the truck? Whatever the reason, their mission was still a success. Their ultimate goal may not have been met, but they had succeeded in declaring war on the United States.
It was an ant.
In the midst of utter chaos chasing Amir Shafiq through the streets of Hamburg, Lance adjusted his footfall to avoid the ant. A single solitary little black one. It was nothing, literally nothing. But it was also something.
In 24 years, he’d stepped on thousands, maybe millions of ants, spiders, roaches and all variety of scurrying insects. He could not recall a single instance in which he avoided stepping on one of these seemingly endless vermin. Killing them was nothing. So why did he just change the trajectory of his right foot to steer clear of this particular fella? Why?
He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to think about it, or her. Yes, it was her.
He’d been changed. No matter how small the transformation, he was different. He’d found compassion, if only a modicum. A microscopic sliver of empathy could now be found alongside his general disdain. And he didn’t really like it. It felt unnatural to care. Preacher smiled to himself.
So here, with Shafiq only 25 feet ahead of him barreling through narrow and ancient city streets, Lance avoided an ant. Great. What next, call out to the terrorist and ask him to hold up so he could rescue a kitten from a tree? Should he ask the Pakistani bomb maker to stop traffic to help an elderly woman cross the street? Of course, this was just a phase, right? These new thoughts with their soft, beveled edge of feeling, of consideration and compassion, were a temporary state, right?