The Handler: Read Chapter One
Read the complete first chapter of The Handler, Maddie Castle Book One, by L.T. Ryan with C.R. Gray.
Find The Handler and the Maddie Castle reading guide when you are ready to continue.
Copyright © 2023 by LT Ryan and Liquid Mind Media, LLC, C.R. Gray, Brian Shea. All rights reserved.
Sample: Chapter One
The tires spun out as they cut the corner.
That bend had Callahan’s life flashing before his eyes, envisioning the cruiser flipping off the bridge into the Monongahela River below.
Callahan glanced in his rearview. “You alright, Tempy?”
She was up on all fours. Her ears were high atop her head, listening closely for a command. Poking her nose between the bars that separated the cabin, she chuffed in answer, as if to say, “Watch the road, not me.”
Callahan focused on the beat-up Grand Am before him. The red and blue lights flashing overhead reflected on the snowflakes before they melted on the windshield. He glanced at his speedometer, topping seventy in a fifty-five. Even with his studded tires, he’d temporarily lost control.
The car he was chasing had a donut on the rear.
They were looking at three options. Right to the strip district. Left to Mount Washington. Straight through the tunnels.
Tunnels were the safest bet. No snow through there.
But would this guy be smart enough for that? Or did he think he’d make the bend?
Only a few hundred yards from the intersection, Callahan braced for impact.
Stop at the red light or charge through it after him.
Tempy’s in the back.
Callahan eased a foot on the brake. He kept his eyes on the silver Grand Am as it spun to the right, heading into Station Square.
Only to spiral.
He crashed into the building at the corner.
Glass sprayed like rain from a cloud.
A chunk of metal crashed into Callahan’s windshield.
The glass shattered.
His eyes sealed shut as he slammed to a full stop. The winter wind rushed through the opening. Unable to tell whether the glass or snow burned his cheeks and bare arms, he blinked his eyes back open, slowly.
Just in time to watch the suspect run from the car and take off on foot.
Callahan jammed the SUV into park and hopped out. The sirens blared down the bridge, lights flickering behind the traffic.
He rushed to the back seat, grabbed Tempest’s leash, and hauled her to the ground. They jogged to the scene of the accident. A few drops of crimson speckled the snow dusted sidewalk.
Tempy got a whiff, and she yanked the lead.
“Atta girl,” he said beneath his breath. He looked over his shoulder at his backup, Bill Jackson, slowing to a halt behind Callahan’s cruiser.
Callahan raised a hand, signaling his presence. Jackson gave a quick nod in response, speaking into his walkie talkie.
Jackson wasn’t far behind.
Tempy whined at the edge of the leash and looked up at Callahan as if saying, “He’s getting away. We have to move.”
She wouldn’t, though. Not until she got the command. Callahan trusted Tempest like he trusted his buddies from the army. She was damn good at her job.
Jackson was getting out of his cruiser now anyway.
Callahan gave the word.
Tempest’s pace quickened.
The late February wind was like ice in Callahan’s lungs as he jogged with his K-9 partner through the maze of vehicles. It was after midnight on a Tuesday. Even though this was one of the busiest places in the city, it was deserted at this hour.
Utter silence.
Aside from his heart in his ears, there was no one in sight.
If not for Tempest’s intense pursuit, Callahan would’ve thought the suspect had vanished with the wind.
The rattle of the metal sounded.
Tempy cut to the right and picked up speed.
The suspect curled his fingers around the chain-link fence at the edge of the parking lot, fighting with all his might to struggle over its barbed wire top.
Tempest wagged her tail, whining, and yanked on the lead.
Callahan released the leash, but Tempy stayed in place until he said, “Go ahead.”
She bolted along the fence line to the suspect. He glanced over his shoulder at the German Shepherd barreling toward him. Struggling harder, working faster, almost at the top of the fence, he reached into his pocket. Just as he wrenched his arm over his shoulder, tossing the plastic bag he’d retrieved into the distance, he lost his footing.
He dropped to the pavement.
The bag of drugs landed somewhere on the other side of the fence.
Tempy gained on the suspect.
He was almost on his knees when Tempest skidded to a stop before him.
Facing the snapping and snarling K-9, the suspect stayed still, accepting his defeat.
“Stay,” Callahan commanded.
Tempest remained exactly where she was, still baring her teeth, but awaiting her next command.
Slowing his pace, finally able to catch his breath, Callahan held his gun before him as he approached. “Lie flat on the ground and put your hands behind your head.”
The suspect did as he was told.
Only a few feet away, Callahan reached for the cuffs on his belt, keeping the gun on the man. Tempest stood strong, hair on her back at its ends, awaiting her next command or a pat on the head.
Just as Callahan leaned down to cuff the suspect, the rustle of leaves sounded.
He kept his gun on the suspect but peered over his shoulder. He expected it to be Jackson, but no one was there.
Boom!
A punch knocked Callahan in the chest.
Boom!
Another in the back of his bulletproof vest.
Boom!
A third that ended in a yelp from Tempest.
Boom!
One more.
Through the side of Callahan’s head.
Callahan dropped to the concrete.
Tempy yelped and fell to her side.
The suspect hurried to his feet and took off.
Tempy looked at Callahan for her next command.
Silence.
She struggled onto all fours and limped to his face. She lapped the blood pooling through his hair. When Callahan didn’t respond, she lowered her head to his hand, peered up at him, and whined one more time.
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