Thriller by James Patterson

But I wish to emphasize that the speed with
    which we addressed this incident demonstrates that we will pursue terrorists and terrorist groups in whatever criminal guise they
    take, irrespective of whether they target American soldiers, innocent civilians or even foreign enemy combatants whom the
    United States has lawfully detained and taken into custody.”
    The president paused, as if giving his sound bite time to gel,
    then narrowed his eyes for a final comment. “Make no mistake
    about it. Although most of the victims were detained enemy
    combatants, this attack at Guantanamo was an attack on democracy and the United States of America. With Mr. Saint Preux’s
    death, however, justice has been done. Good night, thank you,
    and may God bless America.”
    Jack remained glued to the television as the president stepped
    away from the podium. Reporters sprang from their seats and
    started firing questions, but the president simply waved and
    turned away. The network commentators jumped in with their
    recap and analysis, but Jack’s mind was awhirl with his own
    thoughts. Was Operation Northwoods for real? Did Jack’s client
    do this as a favor to the U.S. government? Or did he do it to embarrass the Howe administration, as a way to make the world
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    think that the president had put him up to this? None of those
    questions had been answered.
    Or maybe they had.
    Theo switched off the television. “Guess that settles it,” he
    said, laying on a little more than his usual sarcasm. “Just another
    pissed-off Haitian crashing his airplane into a naval base to
    protest U.S. immigration policy.”
    Jack lifted his shot glass of tequila. “I’m ready.”
    “For what?”
    He glanced at the lemon and saltshaker, then stiffened his re-solve. “I’m losing the training wheels.”
    J. A. Konrath is relatively new to the thriller scene. The
    Lieutenant Jacqueline “Jack” Daniels series features a fortysomething Chicago cop who chases serial killers. Konrath’s
    debut, Whiskey Sour, was a unique combination of creepy
    chills and laugh-out-loud moments. Bloody Mary and Rusty
    Nail used the same giggle-then-cringe formula—likable heroes in scary situations. Konrath believes that a lot of the fun
    in writing a thriller series comes from the supporting characters. People are defined by the company they keep. Jack has
    a handful of sidekicks who both help and hinder her murder
    investigations.
    Phineas Troutt is one of the helpful ones.
    Introduced in Whiskey Sour, Phin operates outside the law
    as a problem solver—someone who takes illegal jobs for big
    paydays. Jack is never quite sure what Phin does to earn a living. Konrath himself didn’t know, but thought it would be fun
    to find out.
    Forsaking the cannibals, necrophiles, snuff filmers and serial killers of his Jack Daniels books, Epitaph revolves around
    a more familiar and accessible evil—street gangs. The result
    is something grittier, darker and more intimately violent than
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    the series that spawned Phin. No tongue in cheek here. No
    goofy one-liners. Konrath has always enjoyed exploring
    where shadows hide when the sun goes down, but this time
    there’s no humorous safety net. What motivates a man to
    drop out of society and kill for money? Is there a tie between
    morality and dignity? And most important of all, what is
    Phin loading into the shells of that modified Mossberg shotgun?
    Let the body count begin.

EPITAPH
    There’s an art to getting your ass kicked.
    Guys on either side held my arms, stretching me out crucifixion style. The joker who worked me over swung wildly, without planting his feet or putting his body into it. He spent most
    of his energy swearing and screaming when he should have been
    focusing on inflicting maximum damage.
    Amateur.
    Not that I was complaining. What he lacked in professionalism, he made up for in mean.
    He moved in and rabbit-punched me in the side. I flexed my
    abs and tried to shift to take the blow in the center of