Showing results for "Desperate" in Private Investigators

Adam Park owes favors, and when an aid worker is murdered on the Greek island of Paramatra, one such favor is called in. Kai Pace's parents believe the investigation into their son's death is deeply flawed, and Adam is tasked with reviewing the police's conclusions and - if found wanting - identifying the real killer. On an island struggling to cope with the influx of refugees from war zones across the Mediterranean, Adam must battle corruption and ruthless smuggling gangs.

Nearly a year has passed since Garrison Gage became the reluctant guardian of a troubled teenage girl, but neither fatherhood nor the intervening months has improved his mood. His right knee is still mostly worthless. He still prefers to drink his bourbon alone. And even with a certain blonde bombshell a persistent part of his life, he still can't be bothered to buy a cell phone. Or any phone, for that matter. Why? Then somebody might call him.

My name is Henry Hollis, and my life took a turn recently that I didn’t see coming. The easy way to say it is that I got a job offer, but that doesn't do justice to the situation. Maybe they should have told me the job would get me tangled up with mobsters and space aliens. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. Times being what they are, I took the job, and every day since has been just this side of madness. After some reflection on the situation, I've decided to keep a journal of my experiences on this runaway train I'm riding. I hope you'll forgive the coffee stains.

When a bike club president's sister goes missing during a meeting, he goes straight to Portman's Creamery for help when he hears their name. The girls take on the case without telling anyone else. They dig deep into the case and realize that it may be a bit more complicated than expected. What appears to be a kidnapping may be about a runaway. It may also be about star-crossed lovers. The case leaves them with very little clues to work with. It also doesn't help that Stacey is starting to fall for her own client.

My name is Henry Hollis, if you didn’t already know that. Maybe this little message in a bottle won’t get read by anyone for 50 or 100 years, or ever, but I’ve got a few things to get off my chest, starting with a growing dislike for certain citizens of the new German Reich. They call themselves Nazis and grin when they say it like the word is the new and improved term for sunshine or roses. There’s also a certain ruby-red alien from a distant planet who’s made a real hash of my life for the last few weeks. Then there’s the small matter of a man by the name of Frank Moffer.