Dirty Hands, Clean Sheets — Paperback

A loaded gun. A dead man. A senator with fifteen years of secrets.
And two people who were never supposed to get this close.

When homicide detective Thomas Rockwell—decorated combat veteran, ninth-degree black belt, and the most controlled man in any room he enters—is called to the Beacon Hill estate of Senator Malcolm Haverford on a cold November morning, the scene looks clean. Two shots. A self-defense claim. An unnaturally calm senator in an expensive suit.

Rockwell has been reading crime scenes for fourteen years. This one is lying.

Bridget Sloane has been reading the Senator for longer than that. An investigative journalist with a military father's precision and an inheritance she refuses to coast on, Bridget has been building a case from the outside in—surveillance photographs, directional microphone audio, a corporate registry trail that connects a Senate office to a South American cartel to a fentanyl network running through Boston's most vulnerable communities.

She has everything except someone on the inside.

When their investigations collide in the Big Top precinct's institutional PIO office, the hostility between them is immediate and mutual. He thinks she is a professional liability. She thinks he is an arrogant obstacle. They are both right. They are both wrong about everything that matters.

Forced into proximity by a danger that neither of them can outrun—a cartel that has been watching, a mole inside the department, a senator who kills with precision and calls it self-defense—Rockwell and Sloane find themselves building something in the compressed space of a South Boston apartment that neither of them planned for and neither of them can walk away from.

And it will end in a ballroom, with a loaded gun on a table, and a choice that defines everything.

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