Whitewash

“Engaging supporting characters…deft touches of humor…a refreshing read.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“
Whitewash
is a rock-solid, imaginative thriller.”

—
January Magazine

“Smartly paced, intelligent thriller.”

—
Mystery Scene

“Superbly paced…an impressively imaginative departure from the conventional thriller, mixes up greed, waste treatment, and Florida’s pressured environment (take that, Carl Hiaasen), with political powerhouses and more than one surprising love story.”

—Barbara Peters, owner of The Poisoned Pen bookstore

“[N]ot a book for readers with weak stomachs…[for] anyone who likes reading thrillers about corporate greed, shadow governments and international conspiracies.”

—
Bookreporter

“Plenty of Kava’s staples—intrigue, plot twists at the speed of real life, interesting characters and excitement.”

—
North Platte Bulletin

“Kava’s latest is relentlessly paced…. Timely, tense and thought-provoking, this one is guaranteed to keep readers up late.”

—
Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Engaging supporting characters…deft touches of humor…a refreshing read.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“
Whitewash
is a rock-solid, imaginative thriller.”

—
January Magazine

“Smartly paced, intelligent thriller.”

—
Mystery Scene

“Superbly paced…an impressively imaginative departure from the conventional thriller, mixes up greed, waste treatment, and Florida’s pressured environment (take that, Carl Hiaasen), with political powerhouses and more than one surprising love story.”

—Barbara Peters, owner of The Poisoned Pen bookstore

“[N]ot a book for readers with weak stomachs…[for] anyone who likes reading thrillers about corporate greed, shadow governments and international conspiracies.”

—
Bookreporter

“Plenty of Kava’s staples—intrigue, plot twists at the speed of real life, interesting characters and excitement.”

—
North Platte Bulletin

“Kava’s latest is relentlessly paced…. Timely, tense and thought-provoking, this one is guaranteed to keep readers up late.”

—
Romantic Times BOOKreviews

EXPOSED

A NECESSARY EVIL

ONE FALSE MOVE

AT THE STROKE OF MADNESS

THE SOUL CATCHER

SPLIT SECOND

A PERFECT EVIL

EXPOSED

A NECESSARY EVIL

ONE FALSE MOVE

AT THE STROKE OF MADNESS

THE SOUL CATCHER

SPLIT SECOND

A PERFECT EVIL

Most of my readers know by now that I do extensive research for each of my novels. I think it’s important to get enough of the details correct to make the story credible. If readers can’t tell where the facts stop and the fiction starts, then I’ve done my job. But sometimes it goes a bit deeper. Sometimes it’s not just about research. It’s about real life. Both my stand-alones,
One False Move
and now
Whitewash,
came out of very personal experiences.

In 2004 I bought a writing retreat outside Pensacola, Florida. Six months later Hurricane Ivan roared ashore. Nine months after that, Hurricane Dennis. I grew up in Nebraska, so I thought I was prepared, having seen tornado damage. Nothing prepared me for what I experienced.

Everyone sees the immediate devastation. Few see the months and months of the aftermath. Living amongst the ruins is perhaps the best way to describe it. We pile up the debris along the roads and the sides of our properties, waiting for their removal. For months we’re surrounded by one-to two-story mountains everywhere we go. Only, the mountains aren’t composed of just uprooted trees and boat piers, but bits of everyone’s lives.

In the first weeks, each time I drove through those tunnels of debris I noticed something equally heartbreaking, jutting out from the piles: a blue sofa, broken toys, shredded clothing speared onto a section of chain-link fence. I wondered what would become of all that debris. Where would it go?

Less than a year later the piles were gone. Most, not all, of the blue-tarped roofs were fixed. Pine trees started to grow up around those that had been snapped in half. Yet once in a while the rains dislodged an eerie reminder. On a morning walk I saw a plastic, hollow-eyed baby-doll head floating in a rain-filled ditch. I wondered, again, where all the piles of debris had gone. That’s about the same time that I saw an article in
Discover
magazine titled “Anything into Oil.”

The article described an incredible process called thermal conversion. TCP could take just about any carbon-based objects, including turkey guts, junked car parts, raw sewage, even old appliances, and turn them into oil. Real oil, “better than crude,” that could be refined or used immediately. The article talked about a company that already had a plant in Carthage, Missouri, a plant that was already taking slaughterhouse waste from a nearby Butterball turkey packager and turning that waste into oil.

This was amazing to me. Gas prices were on the rise. After two devastating years of hurricane after hurricane, everything seemed to be on the rise for those of us along the Gulf Coast. I couldn’t believe that this process, this company, this plant wasn’t making major headlines. Further research discovered just a few of the obstacles, including government regulations, the absence of funding, the struggle to be “officially” recognized as “renewable diesel” and even the costs of competition. Yes, competition, because turkey guts were a commodity sold for fertilizer and livestock feed. This idea as pure and simple as taking slaughterhouse waste and turning it into oil ended up being much more complicated and political than the science itself.

So I started doing what I usually do when stuff like this fascinates me. I started asking questions, running scenarios around in my mind, taking those complications and conflicts and turning them into plot twists…or what you might call turning them into my own oil. The result is
Whitewash.

Though TCP (thermal conversion process) is a reality and many of the details in my novel are facts, I must note that EchoEnergy, its CEO, facility and employees are all figments of my imagination.

Most of my readers know by now that I do extensive research for each of my novels. I think it’s important to get enough of the details correct to make the story credible. If readers can’t tell where the facts stop and the fiction starts, then I’ve done my job. But sometimes it goes a bit deeper. Sometimes it’s not just about research. It’s about real life. Both my stand-alones,
One False Move
and now
Whitewash,
came out of very personal experiences.

In 2004 I bought a writing retreat outside Pensacola, Florida. Six months later Hurricane Ivan roared ashore. Nine months after that, Hurricane Dennis. I grew up in Nebraska, so I thought I was prepared, having seen tornado damage. Nothing prepared me for what I experienced.

Everyone sees the immediate devastation. Few see the months and months of the aftermath. Living amongst the ruins is perhaps the best way to describe it. We pile up the debris along the roads and the sides of our properties, waiting for their removal. For months we’re surrounded by one-to two-story mountains everywhere we go. Only, the mountains aren’t composed of just uprooted trees and boat piers, but bits of everyone’s lives.

In the first weeks, each time I drove through those tunnels of debris I noticed something equally heartbreaking, jutting out from the piles: a blue sofa, broken toys, shredded clothing speared onto a section of chain-link fence. I wondered what would become of all that debris. Where would it go?

Less than a year later the piles were gone. Most, not all, of the blue-tarped roofs were fixed. Pine trees started to grow up around those that had been snapped in half. Yet once in a while the rains dislodged an eerie reminder. On a morning walk I saw a plastic, hollow-eyed baby-doll head floating in a rain-filled ditch. I wondered, again, where all the piles of debris had gone. That’s about the same time that I saw an article in
Discover
magazine titled “Anything into Oil.”

The article described an incredible process called thermal conversion. TCP could take just about any carbon-based objects, including turkey guts, junked car parts, raw sewage, even old appliances, and turn them into oil. Real oil, “better than crude,” that could be refined or used immediately. The article talked about a company that already had a plant in Carthage, Missouri, a plant that was already taking slaughterhouse waste from a nearby Butterball turkey packager and turning that waste into oil.

This was amazing to me. Gas prices were on the rise. After two devastating years of hurricane after hurricane, everything seemed to be on the rise for those of us along the Gulf Coast. I couldn’t believe that this process, this company, this plant wasn’t making major headlines. Further research discovered just a few of the obstacles, including government regulations, the absence of funding, the struggle to be “officially” recognized as “renewable diesel” and even the costs of competition. Yes, competition, because turkey guts were a commodity sold for fertilizer and livestock feed. This idea as pure and simple as taking slaughterhouse waste and turning it into oil ended up being much more complicated and political than the science itself.

So I started doing what I usually do when stuff like this fascinates me. I started asking questions, running scenarios around in my mind, taking those complications and conflicts and turning them into plot twists…or what you might call turning them into my own oil. The result is
Whitewash.

Though TCP (thermal conversion process) is a reality and many of the details in my novel are facts, I must note that EchoEnergy, its CEO, facility and employees are all figments of my imagination.