River of Secrets (Minotaur, Aug 28, 2018) is the second book in the mystery series that started with Roger John's award-winning Dark River Rising. The series features Wallace Hartman, a female police detective in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
In the first book she was presented with the murder of a drug kingpin, found with a big snake sewn into his belly. That lead her on a search for a Walter White kind of mastermind, sometimes aided, sometimes blocked, by DEA Special Agent Mason Cunningham.
The evil mastermind and his schemes, Wallace’s efforts at untangling and stopping them, and her uneasy alliance with Mason all made for an unputdownable book.
The river of the title flows on in the background of Dark River Rising, though it does overrun its banks as the title promises.
In River of Secrets the river plays a more front-stage role. This time Wallace is investigating the murder of Herbert Marioneaux, a Louisiana state legislator with a reputation for changing his mind on sensitive issues. A lot of evidence, including DNA evidence, points to Eddie Pitkin, a black social justice activist who has often opposed Marioneaux in the past, as the culprit. Because of their infamous feud the court of public opinion, and Wallace’s superiors, want Pitkin’s guilt quickly established and the case resolved.
Instead, Wallace slowly tracks down clues that suggest Pitkin has been framed. Her investigation is slow and painstaking. It doesn’t help that the case quickly becomes politicized, leading to riots in the streets. Wallace soon realizes that her investigation is being sabotaged by someone within her own department. She now has to rely on assistance from people she doesn’t know well and isn’t sure she can trust, but she has to hurry and bring closure to the case before Baton Rouge goes up in flames.
With its densely woven political tapestry, River of Secrets is even more ambitious than Dark River Rising. Wallace shows more of her unstoppable courage. Mason Cunningham has switched jobs so he can move to Baton Rouge and they can pursue their relationship, but Wallace is forced to send him into hiding for his own protection. Wallace also has to break in her new police partner, Lee Anne, another example of Roger John’s gift for making supporting characters into standout stars.
WHAT THE CRITICS ARE SAYING
- “This novel has everything you could want in an intriguing mystery: a harrowing crime, fast-paced action, richly drawn characters that bring the story to life, and a jaw-dropping ending that you won’t see coming.” -Heather Gudenkauf, New York Times bestselling author of Not a Sound
- “A worthy sequel with plenty of procedural detail and a shattering conclusion.” -Kirkus Reviews
- “Tension builds throughout the story as the reader waits to learn where a clue may lead. Pulsing fear, momentary relief, then the danger increases again . . . Mr. Johns surely manages to keep us turning pages. Well done dialogue and unique characters and relationships . . . It’s a fast paced tale that will draw you right in. Very entertaining and definitely recommended.” -Mystery Suspense Reviews
WHERE TO FIND IT
You can enter the 10-copy giveaway of River of Secrets on Goodreads here. The giveaway ends September 3.
Or purchase the book from
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Roger Johns is the author of the Wallace Hartman Mysteries from St. Martin’s Press/Minotaur Books. He is the 2018 Georgia Author of the Year (Detective ▪ Mystery Category) for his debut novel, Dark River Rising, which has also been nominated for a Killer Nashville Reader’s Choice Award. The second volume in the series, River of Secrets, will be out on August 28, 2018. Roger is a member of the Atlanta Writers Club, Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, and Mystery Writers of America. Along with four other crime fiction writers, he co-authors the MurderBooks blog at www.murder-books.com.
Contact Roger Johns
EXCERPT
PROLOGUE
FRIDAY: JUNE 1 NIGHT
When he heard the key slide into the lock, he reached inside his shirt and ran a finger along the smooth edge of the tough plastic loop.
Heavy footfalls on the old hardwood floors told him one person— a sizable individual—had entered the kitchen through the side door.
Expletives, followed by a muttered self-rebuke about having for- gotten something, confirmed the new arrival’s identity. Herbert Marioneaux was home.
The sound of a case being zippered open, along with the scuff and rustle of items shifted around on a table, pinpointed Herbert’s location in the dining area of the large front room. Then the steady, rhythmic ticking of computer keys started. People could be so vul- nerable when they were under the spell of some routine activity— something that put them at ease and commanded their undivided attention—but he knew that now was not the magic moment.
Herbert’s booming voice broke the quiet. The call.
Ordinarily, this would have been an excellent time to shine. Pe- destrians were known to step into fast-moving traffic once they became mesmerized by a call, but this was Herbert’s nightly Skype session with his wife.
“You look lovely,” Herbert told her. “Yes, especially without your makeup.”
Using the loud conversation as cover, he rose from his hiding place inside the spare bedroom and moved toward the hallway and waited. The intimate patter continued for several minutes.
Once the conversation ended, the keystrokes resumed along with the soft sound of easy-listening music and the shuffle of papers. After several more minutes, the time felt right.
He emerged from the dark room, taking care to avoid the creaky floorboards he had discovered in the hall while he waited for the man of the hour to return from a hard day of screwing the taxpayers.
Herbert sat at the dining table, facing away, staring intently at a laptop.
As he closed the distance between them, he slid his hand inside the front of his shirt.
The floor groaned under his final step. Herbert stiffened and turned.
He dropped the loop over Herbert’s head and yanked hard on the free end.
ONE
SATURDAY: JUNE 2 MORNING
Wallace Hartman didn’t fancy herself a burglar, but when Davis McCone called with larceny in his heart she jumped at the chanc—even though she was a Baton Rouge police detective and
she would be stealing from her own mother.
Uncle Davis. She had called him that when she was a young girl, although he wasn’t really her uncle, just a good family friend. In fact, Davis was the man her mother had dated, before electing to marry Walter Hartman instead. They had all managed to stay friends, and Davis and his eventual wife, Gail, had been uncle and aunt to the Hartman children.
“Come have dinner with us tomorrow evening,” Davis said. “Us who?”
“Me and your mother.”
“She didn’t mention the two of you were having dinner.”
“I only managed to talk her into it a little while ago. It’s a birth- day shindig.”
“You know she doesn’t like calling attention to her birthday.” “She enjoys acting like she doesn’t like it.”
“Why do you want me there? I’ll just be a third wheel.”
“Not a wheel . . . a thief. And bring Mason.”
Mason Cunningham had entered Wallace’s life several months ago as a DEA analyst pursuing an investigation that intertwined with one of her own. He had remained as much more than that. Since Thursday, Mason had been in DC. He was returning this afternoon. “Okay. We’ll be there,” she said. “And just so I’ve got this straight,
you actually want me to steal something for you?”
“You’ll enjoy it. I promise. And your mother will be delighted.
I promise that, as well.”
There wasn’t much Wallace wouldn’t do for Davis. When Wal- lace’s father had been killed, along with her husband and her elder brother, by a man who had made a vocation of drinking and driv- ing, her life had hit a wall. Wallace and her mother, Carol, and sur- viving brother, Lex, had all hit the wall. Carol had gone almost mute with terror, confessing to Wallace that she’d become afraid of her own shadow. That if so much could be taken so quickly, then noth- ing was safe.
Instead of becoming afraid, Wallace had become angry. Angry that the killer was given a slap on the wrist and put back on the street. Angry that those who killed with a bullet the size of a fin- gertip could be imprisoned for life, even executed, but those who killed with a bullet the size of a Buick were often dealt with as if they were the victims.
Davis and Gail had worked hard to provide a sense of stability for the remnants of Wallace’s family. But it was Davis who had helped the most. He made sure friends and relatives came around to lift the burden of the day-to-day when necessary. He took time away from his law practice to make sure things that needed to be done got done.
Eventually, from somewhere deep inside, Carol found a way to cope. At first, she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, trying hard to impose some distance between herself and the devas- tating events. Then, one day, the dam broke and she began a period of proper grieving.
It had been painful to see, but Wallace took it as a sign that it was okay to begin the process of repairing and getting on with her own life. She considered herself to still be a work in progress, and she credited Davis and his wife with helping to make that progress possible.
Sitting on the back steps of her Garden District bungalow, a half- finished cup of coffee on the concrete step next to her, Wallace watched a pair of squirrels chase each other around the trunk and through the branches of the giant pecan tree that dominated the back of her lot. She marveled at the speed and agility of the chitter- ing creatures as they made gravity-defying jumps through the leafy canopy.
As she reached for the book that lay next to her cup of coffee her phone buzzed again. It was Chief of Detectives Jason Burley, her boss. She felt sure he wasn’t calling to invite her to a birthday dinner.
BOUCHERCON BLOG TOUR
This blog is part of a blog tour about writers attending Bouchercon 2018 in St. Petersburg, FL. If you are there, you can find Roger Johns on Thursday, September 5, on the "Watching the Detectives: Writing Fictional Detectives" panel at 9 am, and Sunday he will be moderating "Backdrop:Setting as Character," at 9 am.
FEARLESS BLOGGER TOUR
This blog is part of a tour organized by the International Thriller Writer's Association FEARLESS BLOGGER tour. The Fearless Bloggers were created by Alison McMahan to help new thriller writers who were members of ITW promote their work. Blogs are written about new thrillers by thriller writers. All work is done on a volunteer basis. Elena Hartwell is one of our bloggers. Other blogs in this tour include: