Lost Innocence

By Carter Blake

A gripping crime thriller with a killer twist

Detective Alex Kane isn’t good at dealing with the innocent victims of crime. That is why he likes his job on the state police organized crime task force. Most of the bodies he encounters knew what they were signing up for. And when the inevitable setbacks and disappointments arise, he never feels too guilty. But Alex can’t insulate himself forever.

When a criminal organization is engaged in human trafficking and child pornography, Alex is drawn into a disturbing and dangerous world. A world where anonymous forces exploit young women and girls with impunity. A world where any mistake Alex makes could lead to the suffering of innocents. Can Alex pull the curtains back on this dark world before a young girl is lost forever?  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carter Blake
• Release date: Apr 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386320784

Book preview

Lost Innocence

Lost Innocence

Carter Blake

Byrd Books

Contents

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About Lost Innocence

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Preview: Lost Identity

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

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About Lost Innocence

Agripping thriller with a killer twist .

Detective Alex Kane isn’t good at dealing with the innocent victims of crime. That is why he likes his job on the state police organised crime task force. Most of the bodies he encounters knew what they were signing up for. And when the inevitable setbacks and disappointments arise, he never feels too guilty. But Alex can’t insulate himself forever.

When a criminal organization is engaged in human trafficking and child pornography, Alex is drawn into a disturbing and dangerous world. A world where anonymous forces exploit young women and girls with impunity. A world where any mistake Alex makes could lead to the suffering of innocents. Can Alex pull the curtains back on this dark world before a young girl is lost forever?

1

The late August humidity plastered Detective Alex Kane’s shirt to his back as he sat in his unmarked cruiser. Shade provided no relief. The heat was liquid, flowing into every open space. The air conditioner seemed to be blowing more hot air into the car. The mechanics back at the state police garage hadn’t fixed it despite the numerous requests Alex had made. Sitting there, waiting, Alex argued with himself regarding the relative merits of leather versus fabric car upholstery. Sure, the leather was burning hot when you sat down, but the fabric seemed to soak in the heat, cooking you slowly as it sucked the sweat away from

your

skin

.

Alex had taken a trip out to the Grand Canyon when he was a kid. He remembered the thermometer reading 108 F. It was not nearly as hot then as 93 F in Pittsburgh. This wet heat offered no respite. When you woke, it was hot. When you slid into your still damp sheets, it was hot. In the shade, it was hot. The only places one could get cool was in an air-conditioned building, but then the smells of Freon and recycled breath was enough to make you brave the heat again. Alex longed for the fresh air of a breeze blowing onshore from the sea. This city, with its three broad rivers and sharp, rocky valleys, trapped in the air. Nothing left, nothing came. He could only imagine what it was like when the smokestacks were still belching out soot, the lung-blackening byproducts of economic growth. Alex dreamed of a day where he could be out of sight of land altogether. Open sea from horizon to horizon, with no other sound but wind and wave and the whistle and creak of the rigging. But that was a long way away, at best. Today, in the still, shimmering heat, Alex had a job

to

do

.

Across the street, above the light-bending ripples of heat rising off the pavement, sat a large house. Once upon a time, it may have been the home of one of Pittsburgh’s more successful families. The beneficiaries of those smokestacks and soot and blackened lungs. It had three stories, a large covered porch, and a separate staircase out back, to prevent the servants entering the building alongside the served.

These days, this house and its neighbors just a mile or so from Highland Park, did not employ servants. The separate entrances were repurposed to create privacy for the different renters occupying each floor. At least that was what happened in the houses that were occupied. One out of every five houses sat empty on this street. Occupied or not, every house was in some state of disrepair. Porches sagged, paint peeled, cracked windows stood open to the elements. The dwellings reflected their tenants. People who