DIGITAL VELOCITY
The deadliest weapons are the ones we never see.
Keyboard prodigy, Lexi Donovan has risen from teenage orphan of the streets to complete independence with little help along the way. When a pervert threatens her friend, she sends an anonymous message to police, leading to a firefight that leaves a cop wounded.
Detective Ethan McAllisterâs well-ordered life turned upside down the day an obscure text message led to a sexual predatorâs identity and arrest. Since then, Callouston PDâs finest canât trace the elusive hacker. The latest tip leads him to a brutal mutilation and a riddle indicating the identity of the next murder victim.
The dark net houses a playground for the morally depleted and criminally insane. When Lexi discovers the killerâs digital betting arena, she finds herself centered in a cyber stalkerâs crosshairs, a psychopath bearing equal talent.
Street life strengthened Lexi while toughening her protective shell, but nothing could shield her from the shrewd detective forging a path to her heart.
âDigital Velocity is a fast-paced romantic suspense thriller that sophisticatedly weaves drama, excitement, grit, raw emotions and mystery. Garrett takes her readers on a journey where suspense and romance are taken up several notches as she unfolds and reveals the identity of a murderer that is on the loose. With her vivid prose, Garrett entices readers to see the bond that is brewing between Detective Ethan McAllister and his unlikely informant.â Michelle Tan, RT Book Reviews
I move frequentlyâbut gain no distance.
I am warm, moist, and dark but give no comfort.
I can stretch and shrink, giving or taking at will, bringing both pain and pleasure with each.
âIf God wanted you to tie the knot, heâd give you a near-death experience to better appreciate life, along with a craving for procreation. Then heâd smother your soul with the essence of venison, squirrel, frog legs, taters, and beer, to attract a likely counterpart from the sticks. No, wait. The latter has already happened, hasnât it? Sorry.â Ethan narrowly kept his balance on the green-slicked, handmade bricks leading up the two-story, mauve-colored Victorian. If his 210-pound mass ended up sprawled on the steps, no doubt the picture would be splashed all over the precinct by noon with various unsavory captions.
âMaybe you should try it. The stick up your ass has to cause at least minor discomfort.â Larrickâs early-morning snark was a common greeting.
âHey, Iâm a normal guy.â Ethan glared over his shoulder.
Larrick snorted.
âStill wet from our early-morning storm. Watch your step, itâs slippery.â Scanning the myriad amorphous shadows lurking in the wood line, realization struck that he and his partner were sitting ducks if a sniper perched among the loblolly pine and oak trees lining the front and side yards.
Larrickâs reply came in equal measure of soft tones. âEither that or a large flock of birds dropped in recently to help her redecorate. Great detective work.â
âBird droppings areââ
âAre sought after for facials. Especially the Japanese Nightingale shit.â
âOnly you would know that.â Ethan adjusted his tie, an acknowledgment of the apprehension filling his mind.
âAre we whispering because your paranoid gut canât assimilate food well enough to distinguish indigestion from an outside threat? This woman lives alone, gonna think weâre a couple of perverts and be liable to shoot us.â
âWord has it sheâs a pacifist.â
âFine. Youâre one to talk about signsâdragging my ass to a strangerâs house at this ungodly morning hour to knock on the door and ask, âLady, are you all right? Weâre police detectives who received an anonymous tip you might have a hangnail. Perhaps we could lend you a pair of nail clippers?ââ Derision and humor warred for dominance in Larrickâs tone, yet his sharp gaze continually scanned the perimeter in consideration of his partnerâs unarticulated hunch. Yin and yang, they fit together, a clean-cut detective and his partner whose hair length had passed regulation specs weeks ago.
âYou know this isnât the first tip weâve gotten, not to mention the fact that the other leads were solid and led to arrests. And while weâre at it, why donât you step to the side? Standard police procedure when approaching an unknown situation.â Ethan turned sideways, standing by the door with his hand poised to knock on the solid oak. He hesitated. Moisture coated his palms, a rare occurrence. Scrutinizing the interior through the doorâs narrow sidelights yielded nothing more than expected. Elegantly upholstered furniture, gleaming hardwood floors, and delicate bric-a-brac adorning the thick mantle and each side table completed the sophisticated picture. âDonât see any problem. Maybe sheâs fallen and canât get to a phone.â
âYou expected an old lady brandishing her curling iron? As for leads, I get mine from three-dimensional people while you get yours from a bunch of ones and zeroes. Why canât our IT department trace your anonymous texts further than the loony bin? Though thatâs probably appropriate, since your secret admirerâs last present consisted of a flower basket bigger than my TV, along with fur-lined cuffs. Iâve never laughed so hard I pissed myself. I thought that was hogwash, a myth made up by old ladies.â Larrick leaned over the iron railing to peer through the window. âCanât see squat, bottom sillâs too high.â
âAs my partner, youâre supposed to have my back, not stab me in the back. You didnât have to broadcast it through the whole department by hanging the cuffs from the sprinkler system with a bunch of roses twined in them. Now my brothers wonât let up, and Iâve been subscribed to every kinky magazine known to the publishing world. You think I should know why some whacko chose me for their personal marionette?â Ethan suppressed a shudder before his partner gained more verbal ammunition. If his suspicions were correct, his informant was, in fact, a beautiful enigma with waist-length, chestnut hair and an emerald gaze capable of melting steel.
âMaybe because you were the youngest to make detective? Rising star, golden boy, and all that shit.â
âNo. Probably afraid your redneck ways would rub off on them, or maybe because Iâm the biggest sap.â Ethanâs gut rumbled, more of a warning sign from a well-heeled intuition than hunger. âLarrick, this doesnât feel right.â Behind him, the slide of metal on leather let him know his partner just palmed his Glock. Three years of working together circumvented the formality of dissecting gut reactions.
A creak of leather sole betrayed Larrickâs backtracking to scrutinize the surroundings. âSide windows are lower. Iâll take a look.â
âHood of her BMW is cold. Didnât go anywhere recently.â Larrickâs harsh whisper halted a nearby squirrel scampering up a tree, its head cocked to one side while studying the strange human interlopers.
Sunshine warmed the first spring buds on the low shrubbery bordering the walkway to complete the idyllic setting. Nothing but peace and serenity, yet Ethanâs heart hammered against his ribcage like an aggressive punk drummer. With his partner disappearing around the corner, he again scanned the perimeter while the morningâs corrupted equanimity formed a sour wad in his chest. A lazy March breeze combed its cool fingers through his short hair while the deep foreboding received with the initial text message blossomed into multiple horrific scenarios, leaving one of them a corpse, their lifeâs essence forming macabre shapes on gleaming hardwood floors.
âI see bare feet beyond the kitchen island. Toes up. Probably female.â Larrickâs disembodied whisper just provided probable cause. âBackup?â
Amazon ⯠B&N ⯠Kobo ⯠Goodreads
A Dark Prequel to Digital Velocity
Theft of spirit is no oneâs birthright.
A quirk of her X chromosome furnished Alexis with an edge few others enjoyed. After fate plunged her into orphan status and an intolerable foster home forced her to the streets, a group of prostitutes sheltered her from their vicious pimp. Seeing something special within, they nurtured and shielded her from their harsh reality until she could forge her own path in life.
Destiny frequently takes us back to our roots. Lexiâs return journey begins when a serial killer attacks one of her adopted sisters. Relying on courage and wit, she must stay a step ahead and secure evidence to free her family from a psychopathic murderer.
Reilyâs employment as an ICU nurse, private investigator, and work in the military police has given her countless experiences in a host of different environments to add a real world feel to her fiction.
Though her kids are her life, writing is Reilyâs life after. The one enjoyedâŚafter the kids are in bed or after theyâre in school and the house is quiet. This is the time she kicks back with laptop and lapdog to give her imagination free rein.
In life, hobbies can come and go according to our physical abilities, but you can always enjoy a good book. Life isnât perfect, but our imaginations can be. Relax, whether itâs in front of a fire or in your own personal dungeon. Take pleasure in a mental pause as you root for your favorite hero/heroine and bask in their accomplishments, then share your opinions of them over a coffee with your best friend (even if heâs four legged). Life is short. Cherish your time.