Runaway Town (An Eoin Miller Mystery)
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After narrowly surviving a vicious knife attack, gangland detective Eoin Miller thinks he’s earned a break from hunting down thieves, runaways, and stolen drug money. But when crime boss Veronica Gaines tips him off to a particularly sensitive new case, his Romani blood won’t let him say no. A rapist is targeting immigrant girls, and the half-gypsy Eoin knows all too well just how little help an outsider can expect from the local police. Besides, his client isn’t looking for someone to arrest the bastard. He’s looking for someone to stop him—for good.
But the deeper Eoin digs, the more tangled he becomes in a web of corruption, racism, and revenge…especially once his troubled past threatens to derail the investigation by raising questions about his own loyalty and family ties. With his life teetering on the brink of disaster, Eoin realizes there is a fine line between justice and punishment. Now it’s up to him to decide just which side he’s on.
want to wait here till they arrest you? What’s this going to solve?” “Solve? Like a mystery? There aye no mysteries, man. School knows I’m thick, my mum knows I’m shit, Mann knows I’m no gangster, and the guy who killed my brother? Shit, he knows I aye nothing, too.” He lifted the gun again. “Stop it. Now.” It was the most like an adult I’d ever sounded. He lowered the gun and turned back to me. “Grow up, okay? So you can’t shoot somebody. So fucking what? You’re a bright kid, and you know
different story, and I knew they told the truth. I have a little theory: once you learn that Father Christmas isn’t real, your parents lose the ability to lie to you. It had been quite a long time since I’d believed a lie from my mother. I told her that Mrs. Daniels had seen who did it, but I left out that she was too old to give a report that made any sense. Mum looked at me for a split second with something in her eyes that I couldn’t place, and then her usual mask reappeared. “Come on. Tell
come prepared for that question. She handed me a folded piece of paper. I opened it enough to see a brief list of names, and then I folded it again and put it in my pocket. But even now that I had more details, there was one question I needed an answer to. “Like I said, you know who I am. What is it you’re wanting? What can I give you that the cops can’t?” When Connolly answered, it was with a coldness that hit me like a punch to the gut. “Stop the bastard.” I thought of Veronica Gaines at
think. And now they’re coming to take ours.” “And you’re jumping into bed with them?” “Survival.” This didn’t sound like the Channy I knew. He’d always been more respectful of the old ways of doing things. His was a generation raised on Scorsese movies and respect. There was a moral code and a hierarchy. Now he was talking like he’d let any dumb kid from the street get right into the game. I told him he’d changed. “Well, you changed me, eh? You and Gaines. Gav was always the loud one, the
mother was in a room on her own. The only times I’d ever seen anybody in one of those solo rooms was because they were either rich or dying. Laura was leaning against the wall outside, sipping from a plastic cup of coffee and staring as the steam rose from the top. She straightened up when she saw me coming, and almost offered a smile. She was looking good; being promoted clearly suited her. Stepping up to her new job had given her a little bit more of everything; she seemed a little taller and