By Rick Riordan
For Tres Navarre, English professor became inner most investigator, enterprise has in recent years taken a drastic flip south. but when chasing down bail jumpers, adulterous spouses, and workmen’s comp circumstances appeared like the dregs of the PI online game, it used to be a minimum of a dwelling. now not as a lot might be stated for monitoring down a guy like Will “the Ghost” Stirman.The stone-cold killer has simply staged a bloody break out from the Floresville country penal complex with a gang of violent cons as spooked by means of Stirman as these at the open air who helped placed him in the back of bars. And not anyone turns out extra apprehensive than Navarre’s boss and mentor, Erainya Manos. It used to be her husband besides rival PI Sam Barrera who equipped the case that despatched Stirman away. yet Erainya’s husband is lifeless and she’s yes Stirman won’t enable that stand within the means of his taking revenge opposed to her and her followed son.All of Navarre’s instincts are screaming that there’s extra to this situation than meets the attention. yet Erainya won’t inform him—and Sam Barrera appears to be like escaping right into a unusual twilight from a fact too negative to recollect. That leaves Tres to dig right into a twisted secret of greed, vigilantism, and homicide, the place lives are acquired and offered and the road among guilt and innocence is razor-thin. in the meantime, Stirman and his gang are coming, forsaking them a path of brutal, unforgiving violence that may result in a space of San Antonio referred to as Southtown—but that could quickly simply to boot be referred to as hell on the earth.
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Additional resources for Southtown
Jem asked, excited. “Sort of,” I said. ” “These are the kind you feel, champ. ” The twins sloshed after us like a couple of rabid hippos. Up ahead, Dimebox’s Lincoln Town Car dipped toward the low-water crossing on Sinclair. A few hours ago when we’d driven in, Rosillio Creek had been full, but nowhere near the top of the road. Now, glistening in our headlights, an expanse of chocolate water surged over the asphalt. Clumps of grass, branches and garbage piled up on the metal guardrail. It was hard to tell how deep the water was.
Slapped Elroy’s arm. ” They stood there, frozen, as Grier’s muscles relaxed. His mouth opened and stayed that way. Five minutes later, they had his body and the garroted rookie stripped to their underwear. The rookie was only unconscious, so they tied him up, taped his mouth, crammed him and Grier’s corpse into the tiny vestry with the comatose Reverend. Elroy and Luis got into the supervisors’ clothes. Grier’s had blood on them, but not that much. Most of Grier’s bleeding must’ve been inside him.
Fifty-three illegals. Three hundred dollars a head. Twenty-one had died, but of course they’d paid up front. The thirty-two who lived would be sold off to Gerry’s clients—sweatshops, labor ranches, brothels—to “earn credit” for further transportation to Chicago or Houston or wherever they dreamed of going. In reality, none of them would ever be allowed to leave. They’d bring Gerry a sale price of two to five hundred dollars each, possibly more for young women. That was the beauty of the Stirman system—the illegals paid to get here, then Gerry got paid again for selling them into slavery.
Southtown by Rick Riordan