By Tim Green
A Fallen Hero. His lacking Daughter. forty eight Hours to save lots of Her Life-And The Clock is Ticking... A former prosecutor at the upward push, Tom Redmon is this present day a low-rent lawyer mired in unwinnable situations and an alcoholic haze. nobody believes in him other than his daughter, Jane, a Washington put up reporter, and his one buddy, reformed biker and P.I. Mike Tubbs. Then without warning Redmon will get the last word serious warning call: his daughter is gone-kidnapped. leaping into his outdated pickup with Tubbs, Redmon burns rubber on a frantic seek that might take him into the labyrinth that's Washington...and dangerously just about the road that separates correct from incorrect. there isn't any time for errors: as an ex-cop, he is aware that sufferers have in basic terms days to be rescued sooner than they are came upon useless.
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Extra resources for The First 48
A rat scrabbled across the floor and between two small cars and disappeared beneath a box with a series of quick scratching sounds. Jane sniffed the dank air, then swallowed. “Mark,” she said, softly now. “I’m here,” he said. The dark shape of a man materialized in the shadows behind one of the thick columns. Jane hurried over. “That’s close enough,” he said. She reached out and felt the smooth curve along the trunk of the Audi coupe resting beside her. “I’m going to have to know who you are, you know,” she said.
He disappeared over the edge. Jane ran for the guardrail and peered over. A steep concrete embankment. A sidewalk along the bending road. He was walking down it, moving fast. Looking back. She waited until he rounded the corner of another building. He was headed for the Mall. Jane scrambled down the embankment. She slipped and landed on her bottom, scraping the palm of her left hand. She sprang up, tasted blood and dirt, and sprinted off after him, into the night. CHAPTER 5 Jane watched him go back down Independence.
Cinders crunched beneath her feet. To her right was the Capitol, a glowing white marble mountain. Mark went the other way. The Washington Monument lanced the sky. She passed it, then the Reflecting Pool. He cut across the front of the Lincoln Memorial, outlined black in its blue glow. Jane passed a group of teenagers sitting on blankets with a guitar and smoking pot. She began to jog, afraid she was losing him. Suddenly, he glanced back and broke into a run. Jane followed. He darted down the path that led to the Vietnam Memorial.
The First 48 by Tim Green