Everything
To Lose
A
Lucas Holt Novel
By JP Ratto
Genre: Mystery/Thriller
Release Date: December 29, 2015
Publisher: Limitless Publishing
PRIVATE
INVESTIGATOR LUCAS HOLT IS ON A MISSION…
Lucas Holt
specializes in kidnap recovery. Ex-Delta Force and a former NYPD detective, he
has spent the last fifteen years burying himself in case files to cope with the
unsolved abduction of his daughter, Marnie.
JANET MAXWELL JUST
CAN’T LET GO…
After the death of
Janet’s husband and son in a tragic car accident, she hopes Holt’s expertise
can locate the daughter she gave up for adoption seventeen years ago. Janet
knows her actions will have explosive repercussions for the girl’s father—
presidential candidate, Todd Grayson. With no family, hope of finding her only
daughter is all she has left. Or is there a more sinister motive?
THERE’S NO GREATER
INCENTIVE FOR A FATHER THAN PROTECTING HIS DAUGHTER…
On a mission to
bury the constant reminder of his failure to recover Marnie, Holt agrees to
Janet’s proposal. But at what cost? When his inquiries lead to news of the
death of another woman, Holt can’t shake the feeling something is off about the
whole case. And when new evidence surfaces about Marnie’s disappearance,
finding her and finding Janet’s daughter become the same treacherous mission.
Crooked candidates,
hired mercenaries, and his own life on the line—will Holt find it inside him to
risk everything in the line of duty?
THERE’S NO TELLING
HOW FAR YOU’RE WILLING TO GO WHEN YOU HAVE…
EVERYTHING TO LOSE.
Chapter 1
The woman in the
sunburst yellow dress settled behind a small boy who stood between his parents
in the front row. In her carefully chosen spot, she would have no problem
seeing the senator. More important, he would be able to see her.
Following the
presidential candidate’s schedule occupied most of her time. She knew him, and
his routines. He was a clever politician, a clever man. At one time, she
admired that about him. In spite of his womanizing history, she’d held him in
high esteem. She hadn’t cared about the rumors of his less-than-ethical
political acumen. He was bright and confident. Like her, he knew what he wanted
and achieved it. The one thing he lacked was loyalty. That was his one
unforgivable flaw.
A momentary stab of
rejection cut through her as crushing memories of betrayal clamored to the
forefront of her mind. Another staunch memory held them at bay, protecting her
as always from thoughts that could leave her filled with rage or shattered from
distress. I did what I had to. He gave me no choice.
***
Rows of supporters
without access to the ticket-only event stood shoulder to shoulder, necks
stretched and ready for a coveted glimpse of the man who could be the next
president of the United States. Young and old mingled together, most dressed in
patriotic colors and wearing Grayson for President buttons. Tabloid
reporters and photographers took strategic positions at the iron-gated entrance
to the prestigious institution.
The mainstream
press had already set up their sound and video equipment on Columbia
University’s south lawn. Amsterdam Avenue was closed for two blocks north and
south of 116th street. With the absence of thru traffic, the cacophony of city
activity hummed in the distance. Escalating murmurs obscured the honking horns,
worn, grinding transmissions, and truck trailers loaded with goods booming as
they slammed into the streets’ deep potholes. Area residents, intent on going
elsewhere, glanced at the restless group and at the clouded sky. Briefcases and
umbrellas in hand, they hurried to subway stations or Columbus Ave to hail a
cab.
***
She’d been waiting
for the event to begin since spectators and press had started to arrive.
Turning toward the reporters at the campus entrance, she caught a brief glance
from one of them. She almost shook her head in reproof when he gave her a
slight nod. Instead, she ignored his acknowledgement and vowed not to look his
way again.
She checked her
phone for the time. It was still early, but she could be patient. Another half
hour was nothing compared to the years she’d waited for what she deserved or
rather, what he deserved.
***
As if on cue,
stubborn puffs overhead gave way to a glorious blue sky on the warm August
afternoon. Mounting shouts and whistles alerted all to the arrival of a line of
black vehicles crawling at the curb north of the entrance. Men and women
clothed in dark suits, more apt for a funeral than a summer outdoor event,
exited onto the street. With serious faces, they scrambled to organize their
positions before the guest of honor emerged. By all the staff and security
Senator Grayson utilized, one would think he’d already won the election. Some
criticized his self-importance. Those who knew him well commended his prudence.
All who gathered
cheered as presidential candidate Senator Todd Grayson exited one of the
limousines. Skilled at working a crowd to his full advantage, Grayson took his
time. Straightening to his full height, he smoothed the jacket of his lightweight,
ivory linen suit. He looked like a white knight among his entourage of
black-clad minions. He faced the street audience, threw up his hands, and
waved.
A mass of hand-held
banners and American flags flapped like a flock of gulls vying for a prized
clam. Classically tall, dark, and handsome, he had as many men fawning over him
as he had women. Not since JFK had a presidential candidate charmed a
constituency as Grayson had.
Grayson’s staff
paved the way for him to enter the campus, shielding him from direct contact
with those crammed behind the barricades. In a move that was either spontaneous
or a well-contrived plan, the senator turned and walked in the opposite
direction and began to shake peoples’ hands. The crowd went wild with whoops
and shouts for attention. Surrounded by his campaign staff, his personal
counsel Douglas Cain, and his bodyguards, he navigated among potential voters
like a rock star.
Grayson stretched
over the wooden barriers grasping as many hands as he could. Men removed their
caps in respect, nodded, and returned strong, steady shakes. Women squealed and
clapped, some patting their beating hearts as if they might swoon. His broad
smile bared perfect white teeth that contrasted with his golden skin. Grayson’s
careful choice of attire, including the pale blue shirt and tie, conveyed the
tranquility of sand and sea. You could hear sighs of contentment at Grayson’s
touch.
As president, Todd
Grayson would take care of you.
He moved to the end
of the narrow walk and back again toward the campus, scanning the adoring
crowd. Grayson slowed when he noticed a woman who appeared oblivious to the
lively throng surrounding her. She stood still but for a subtle bob and sway,
like a buoy when bumped by gentle ocean swells. Tall, with shoulder-length
blonde hair, her bright yellow, sleeveless dress set her apart from all the
red, white, and blue. Her white designer handbag hung on her shoulder and she
clasped her hands low in front of her. Grayson watched her lift her hand to
adjust her dark sunglasses. Sharp and adept at reading people, her stance
unnerved him. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he sensed her stare. He would have
thought she was blind except her head turned to follow his movement.
Douglas Cain nudged
the senator’s arm, breaking the connection with the woman. “We need to move
along, Senator, if we want to keep to the schedule.”
“I know, Douglas,
but this is as important as a stump speech,” Grayson said, his practiced smile
never leaving his face.
Cain had been with
Todd Grayson from the start of the senator’s venture into politics. With
Grayson’s reputation and past, his lawyer’s presence at all functions was
paramount. About to enter the campus, where another group awaited the senator’s
appearance, one of the tabloid reporters caught Grayson’s attention.
“Senator, you look
well rested from your vacation in the Hamptons. What is your response to some
of the negative pushback by your opponent regarding your position on defense
spending?”
Grayson glanced at
the reporter’s nametag. “Tom, it’s not my policy to waste time on the
defensive—at least not until the debates. I’ll continue to do what I’ve always
done, and that’s to present my ideas directly to the people. It’s the folks’
opinions that count.”
Those standing
nearby nodded and applauded their approval. Before Grayson could turn away, the
reporter asked another question. “Senator, is it true that you were involved
with call girl Sheila Rand and a prime suspect in her murder?”
Grayson did not
move. The rapid blinking of his eyes as he processed the question was the only
indication he had not turned to stone. Sheila Rand.
He had not thought
of the woman for sixteen years. It was true they’d had a brief affair, but he’d
had an alibi for when she was murdered. Cain had taken care of it. He’d taken
care of that and another matter.
A moment of
recognition flashed through the senator’s mind. He whipped his head toward the
woman in the yellow dress. A stream of perspiration dripped down his face as he
desperately searched the crowd. Where is she? Was it her?
“Senator?” the
reporter prompted Grayson.
Grayson eyed the
reporter. Cain moved in to stand between them, but Grayson refused to be
intimidated. He grinned.
“Tom, you need to
check your facts before you ask questions that make you look foolish. I have
nothing to hide. Sorry but, I’m on a tight schedule,” he said and allowed Cain
to guide him away.
A grin still pasted
to his face, Grayson’s thoughts swam with dredged-up memories of the past. His
chest filled with anxiety. He couldn’t breathe. Grayson was drowning in
thoughts of all that could go wrong. He looked at Cain, his protector—his life
preserver. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The lawyer
would deal with any fallout. That was his job.
Grayson shook off
his concern and strode through the university’s gate to where he would give a
rousing speech. Excited college students and faculty packed the stands. They
applauded as he stepped to the podium. Another stage. Another performance.
Everyone quieted and Grayson began the prepared rhetoric he knew would raise
spirits and hopes. That was his job.
As his popularity
tide rose, Senator Todd Grayson glided into the hearts and minds of those who
would elect him to the most powerful position in the world. It would be smooth
sailing, unless the long-ago matter of a murdered call girl surfaced and
dragged his political career into a maelstrom of disaster.
JP Ratto is a husband and wife collaborative writing team. EVERYTHING TO LOSE is the first of a three-book series featuring private investigator Lucas Holt. Judy began writing full time six years ago. She attended Hofstra University’s Writing Intensive in the summer of 2010, and participated in a Hofstra-sponsored writing and critique group from 2009 to 2012. She has written an upper middle-grade fantasy adventure and a children’s mystery chapter book. Judy also does free-lance editing. Pete Ratto, a former member of the U.S. Navy serving half his enlistment with the U.S. Marine Corp, is a retired corporate accountant and is now writing full time. Both are avid readers of mysteries, thrillers and suspense. Active in a critique group made up of local authors, they enjoy discussions on all aspects of the craft of writing. Pete enjoys photography, writing and going to the beach. In her spare time, Judy paints watercolors and to her husband’s delight, cooks an occasional dinner. They have a son and a daughter, both grown and living in New York. Pete and Judy live in southern Florida with their cat, Gillian.
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