An ex–homicide cop turned lawyer takes the law into his own hands in this debut thriller.
John Delaney, ex-NYPD, now teaches courses in forensics and evidence at Atlanta’s Emory University. Conditioned by 13 years as a homicide cop, his view of the law is, to say the least, robust. Bad guys who underestimate him do so at their peril. Delaney cares mightily about two things: (1) He adores his beautiful wife Katherine, a fellow lawyer. It’s to be near her that he became a transplant. (2) He cares deeply about loyalty. Friends who find themselves in a mess of trouble can count on him for utter devotion to their causes. Ted Jordan grew up with Delaney. Jordan, also a lawyer, has given the Atlanta PD sufficient cause to like him for the murder of his colleague, still another lawyer. His fingerprints were found where they shouldn’t have been while his bank account was $500,000 fatter than it should have been, an amount that will prove germane to the attribution of motive. Predictably, Jordan insists that he’s been set up, that he’s the victim of an insidious conspiracy mounted by a multinational drug company to silence him. He knows too much about a depression med gone horribly wrong. But who’s going to believe that tired old I-was-framed refrain? The short answer is no one, perhaps not even Delaney in his heart of hearts. Still, legal niceties are only that, and friends must back friends all the way. Or what else are fists for?
A bit overwrought, but the pages keep turning. Caveat: Vigilantism gets rather cavalier treatment here, which may cause some readers to raise an eyebrow.