Vertical Coffin by Stephen J. Cannell

By Stephen J. Cannell

A nightmarish sequence of occasions sweeps LAPD's Sergeant Shane Scully and his spouse (and boss), Alexa, into the vortex of a massive, jurisdictional firestorm. First, a sheriff's deputy, a pal of Shane's, is gunned down whereas serving a regimen seek warrant. His fellow deputies blame the incident at the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, whom they angrily accuse of getting didn't warn them that the suspect had an incredible arsenal of unlawful guns in his condominium. quickly thereafter, a member of the ATF state of affairs reaction group is shot to dying, via the sniper homicide of the Sheriff's targeted Enforcement Bureau. on the request of the Mayor, LAPD, as an uninvolved and independent employer, assigns Shane Scully to investigate.He is given an most unlikely time limit to discover an answer ahead of those elite and lethal SWAT groups kill one another off amid a storm of terrible exposure. Shane pursues his research in a course that neither his leader nor his spouse consents with, and succeeds in placing himself, his family, and his occupation in bad jeopardy prior to he eventually discovers the surprising and lethal fact.

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We're gonna use our review apparatus. " "They'll have to make the statements in my presence," Matthews said, his voice getting hard. Then I heard feet shuffling and it got quiet out there, so I went to the coffee room door and took a peek. They had gone to the leather club chairs in the waiting area and were now seated, leaning toward each other. I couldn't quite hear what they were saying, so I crossed to the vending machines, bought some candy, then moved back to the door and looked out again.

His regular features, short hair, and square jaw made him look rugged, not handsome. But he was angry. His eyes, like lasers, were zapping around, peeling the paint off walls in the under-furnished lobby. I wasn't about to miss this, so I ducked into the coffee room and started searching my pocket for quarters to feed into the vending machines. After a moment a lock buzzed and I heard Captain Matthews come through the electric door into the waiting room. " I heard him say. " There was a pause while I guess they shook hands.

More and more I was finding it difficult to do this job. All I saw was human wreckage. Even when I succeeded in doing something that felt right, more often than not, I'd been cursed for it. People didn't want cops around. Even my victories produced confusion. I had been fighting these feelings by not thinking about them, pushing them aside like bad food, knowing that if I ate much more it would soon make me sick. But you can't run from moral dilemmas, and I knew my days in law enforcement were numbered unless I found an answer.

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