Category: The Liam Campbell Novels

A clue.

Someone besides Moses had gotten to the jukebox and Santana was telling everyone within hearing to make it real or else forget about it.  On the tiny excuse for a dance floor, Mark Walker was showing Cindi Guttierez how to do a natural underarm turn, only he missed her hand.  She, an enthusiastic if uncoordinated…

Read more A clue.

The perfect witness.

“So, there I was, arms full of four bags full of groceries, and coming out of the store I see this guy breaking into my car.” “And that was when you hit him with the jar of tomatoes,” Alaska State Trooper Sergeant Liam Campbell said, his gaze rapt. “Sun-dried tomatoes,” the woman sitting next to…

Read more The perfect witness.

The magistrate.

Bill was in the business of justice, not retaliation, and she evaluated every case brought before her with the same care and attention.  The problem was, the fishermen against whom fish and game trooper Charlene Taylor, swore out complaints kept saying the same things, over and over again, until they sounded like a sixth grader…

Read more The magistrate.

The joys of police work, con’t.

“What do you want to do, Prince?  Set out across country?  In what direction?  We looked everywhere on the Nunapitchuks’ homestead for a trail.  We didn’t find squat, except for game trails.  We can’t follow them all.  Maybe we could bring in some dogs, pick up a trail that way.  Chances of that are, oh,…

Read more The joys of police work, con’t.

The old fart.

Peter Obadiah Cole was widely believed to be on the run from the law, and that was true.  He was also on the run from Congress, the courts and the White House; in fact, from all branches of government.  He was on the run from traffic, in the air, on the ground or out at…

Read more The old fart.

Relationships.

On either side Newenham airport fell rapidly away from them and Liam’s stomach gave its usual takeoff flip-flop.  “She’s going to kill me,” he muttered through clenched teeth. He hadn’t meant to be heard but the headset was a good one and Prince turned her head to stare.  “Why would she be mad at you?”…

Read more Relationships.

The reluctant gold miner.

And now here Rebecca was, five months later, waking up in a one-room shack deep in a canyon somewhere between the Wood River Mountains, which together formed part of the southwestern curve of the Alaska Range.  The mine sat on a creek in a deep, narrow crevice formed between three mountains four, five and six…

Read more The reluctant gold miner.

Subsistence hunting.

Neither one of them was a pilot, so they chartered Wy Chouinard to fly them into their preferred hunting area, the long, level plateau between the broad plain that sloped down into the Nushagak River on the east and the Wood River Mountains on the west, where a small but fecund herd of caribou fattened…

Read more Subsistence hunting.

On the joys of police work.

“Anything else?” “Yeah, the phone was ringing when I walked in the door.  Some guy, name of Montgomery, looking for–” “Lyle Montgomery, looking for his daughter,” Liam said with a sigh, and glanced at the calendar.  First of September, first of the month.  Montgomery was right on schedule. “You know him?” “He’s got a daughter…

Read more On the joys of police work.