The sixth season of THE THRILLER FICTION PODCAST!     Want to know more? Make sure you visit www.jimheskett.com and poke around to learn all about the author, the show, and the secrets of the universe.

Thriller Fiction Podcast

TFP606: And We Bid You Goodnight…

TFP605: Story #5

TFP604: Story #4

TFP603: Story #3

TFP602: Story #2

TFP601: Story #1

The sixth season of THE THRILLER FICTION PODCAST! We're back, this time reading all five of the LAYNE PARRISH RESTAURANT STORIES   Want to know more? Make sure you visit www.jimheskett.com and poke around to learn all about the author, the show, and the secrets of the universe.

TFP600: Season Six Intro

Visit jimheskett.com/seasonfive for podcast episode show notes. __________ The fifth season of THE THRILLER FICTION PODCAST is nigh behind us! Let's chat about what's came before and what it's all about.   Want to know more? Make sure you visit www.jimheskett.com and poke around to learn all about the author, the show, and the secrets of the universe.

TFP506: The Journey So Far…

Visit jimheskett.com/seasonfive for podcast episode show notes. __________ Want the inside scoop on each Layne Parrish novel, including info on how it was created and the inspiration for each story? Check out the video below for the awesome insider info, direct from the author himself! ﻿ Want to read the first chapter? You're in luck! Layne Parrish sipped an Imperial Stout while his daughter Cameron unleashed a fierce attack on the page with a blue crayon. She colored a helicopter with wanton disregard for the lines. Blue everywhere. The blades, the cockpit, the landing skids. Layne had tried to help guide her aim, but she didn’t seem interested. At four years old, staying inside the lines was a little beyond her grasp. In the end, what did it matter? There would be time to color inside the lines later. Carpe diem. Across the table from them at Sunshine Brewing Company in Redding, California, Inessa Parrish sat. Actually, not so much sat as perched on her chair with a scowl on her face. Of the three Parrishes at the table, Inessa seemed to be the only one not having a good time. She had the same last name as Layne, but she was not currently related. His ex-wife. She was long and tall, with high cheekbones and sharp blonde hair. Almost as sharp as her Russian accent. It had been years since she’d bothered to soften the edge of her voice when speaking to Layne, but that was to be expected. “Cameron, eat your chicken fingers,” Inessa said. “I wanna save it for later,” Cam said, not looking up at her mother. Inessa’s scowl deepened, and Layne decided not to get involved. He remembered hearing the “starving children in Africa” line from his mother many times in his youth, and it had never made sense to him back then. What did eating all his peas and carrots have to do with downtrodden kids in Africa? He was a third wheel on this trip away from Colorado, anyway. Same hotel, different room, taking care of Cam during the days while Inessa would work. She was in town to do a few woodsy photo shoots for a clothing line, and Layne had tagged along since he had nothing better to do. At least, that was the reason he’d given Inessa for tagging along. He did have an ulterior motive to visit Redding he hadn’t shared with her. The timing had worked out perfectly since he’d intended to come here anyway for a couple years now. “New ink?” Inessa asked, her eyes focusing on a particular section of the tattoos blanketing his arms from wrist to shoulder. Layne shook his head. “Not for a while, now. Same ones.” Most of their conversations were like this. Short, strained, not ending well. That was fine with Layne because he wasn’t here to spend time with Inessa or do any sort of work to repair their relationship. Only Cam. Everything was for Cam. When they’d arrived a couple days ago, Inessa had brought up that age-old topic of how Layne could afford to go gallivanting around the country and not have to work. After all, he was retired, not only from a particular nameless government agency but also retired from his post-retirement security consulting business. Double retired from two jobs not known for being lucrative. Inessa had brought it up, and Layne had once again opted not to answer her questions. Since then, they’d said maybe thirty words to each other. He drained the rest of his beer and stood, not able to reach his full 6’4” due to the low-hanging light fixture thing above the table. “Daddy, where are you going?” “Potty,” he said, brushing his daughter’s blonde hair out of her eyes. “Maybe you can finish the helicopter and we can both color the dolphin on the next page together when I get back.” She pursed her lips in consideration and then nodded her consent. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and scooted out from the chair. The Sunshine Brewing Company was a huge, open room, with enormous ceilings and wood everywhere. Like many restaurants in the area, bear-related paraphernalia decorated the walls.

TFP505: Knife Point – Layne Parrish Behind The Scenes

Visit jimheskett.com/seasonfive for podcast episode show notes. __________ Want the inside scoop on each Layne Parrish novel, including info on how it was created and the inspiration for each story? Check out the video below for the awesome insider info, direct from the author himself! ﻿ Want to read the first chapter? You're in luck! Harry Boukadakis gasped for air. Strong hands pushed him along what he assumed was a hallway. He had to assume, because the bag over his head prevented him from seeing anything. One foot in front of the other, barely able to keep pace with the person or persons forcing him to some unknown destination. He’d been able to gather a few pieces of intel about his current situation, though. They had snatched him last night, right after leaving his weekly Dungeons and Dragons tabletop gaming session with Ethan and Danny. The last time he would see his friends for more than a week before embarking on his planned vacation. Harry had felt a pinch in his thigh walking out to his car, then a sudden and severe feeling of heat. Flushed, like pins and needles. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he lost control. He remembered the sensation of his legs crumpling, then blackness. When he awoke, he’d been bound, gagged, and walking up stairs. Short stairs. Eyes too bleary and head too foggy to make anything out. The thrum of airplane engines had filled his ears. That led to an involuntary trip on an airplane, where he had been secured to a seat the entire time. Hard to say how long, exactly. Maybe four hours. The bag had been over his head for the duration, even when they had escorted him to the bathroom mid-flight. Four hours was enough time to travel from Virginia to any number of destinations. When he deboarded the airplane, though, he had a better sense of location. The dry air told him desert. Possibly. New Mexico, Arizona, maybe Utah. And then, a far off voice from a loudspeaker told him he was in Sedona. As soon as the loudspeaker had sounded, they ushered him along faster. He wasn’t supposed to know. Then, a forced ride in a car, and now shuffling along a hallway. Until this point, his captors had not said a single word to him. They pushed him to his right and then turned him around. Rough hands shoved him down, and Harry felt the hard wood of a chair connect with his butt. A splash of pain worked up his back. The bag whipped off. His eyes slammed shut from the sudden appearance of light. In a couple of seconds, he creaked them open, slowly letting them adjust. Chest heaving, feeling the weight of his belly push against his arms, still restrained. “Good morning, Harry,” said a musical male voice. He blinked a few more times until he could open his eyes all the way. He found himself in a bedroom. A single bed, queen-size, with metal piping for a headboard. Nightstands on either side, no clock or lamps. A small bathroom in a side room near the bed. There was a dresser and the chair he was sitting in, and a single piece of art on the walls. A framed print of a sun setting between two red rock spires. His hands were cuffed together. Red welts covered his wrists. He didn’t remember trying to resist and pull free from the cuffs, but he had, apparently. “How was your trip?” said the man. There were two of them. One, younger than Harry, maybe mid-thirties. He stood back near the door. Tall, white, a wiry frame with jet black hair and emerald eyes. A wicked sunburn had turned his light skin pink. Cheeks gaunt and hints of faded acne scars gave him dozens of pocks like dimples. His arms were crossed in front of him, a deep scowl on his face. Harry assumed this was the one who had brought him here. The other, the speaking man, was older. Fifties, probably. A sharp black suit on his average build. Gray and thinning hair sat atop a wrinkly face, with patchy stubble poking through. Huge hands, though,. Too big for his body. This man had kind brown eyes and a warm smile.

TFP504: Snake Bite – Layne Parrish Behind The Scenes

Visit jimheskett.com/seasonfive for podcast episode show notes. __________ Want the inside scoop on each Layne Parrish novel, including info on how it was created and the inspiration for each story? Check out the video below for the awesome insider info, direct from the author himself! ﻿ Want to read the first chapter? You're in luck! Cameron Parrish hurtled through space, clinging to the metal chain links of the swing. Her three-year-old body blurred. As Layne waited for her to finish the climb and return in his direction, his ears filled with her frantic giggling. Pure joy streamed from her vocal cords. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d witnessed such flawless, unadulterated exultation. Maybe that was the point of having children; experiencing sensations through the eyes of someone not yet jaded or burned by the world. Layne stood behind her—the primary pusher—and Cameron’s mother, Inessa, was in the front. She would hold up her hands so Cameron could bump her feet against them. Each time it happened, Inessa beamed. Her smile, a mile wide, lit her face. Layne rarely pined for his ex-wife, but it wasn’t hard for him to remember why he’d been attracted to her in the first place. Also, too easy to remember why he’d divorced her. "Okay!" Cameron shouted. "I’m done." When she returned his way, Layne grabbed either side of the swing and slowed her until the thing came to rest in the middle. He lifted her out of the contraption and set her on the playground, a soft area consisting of a sea of recycled tire bits. He held her there a moment to make sure she wasn’t dizzy. "What next, little one?" he asked as he pushed up his shirt sleeves, revealing the tattoos blanketing both of his arms from shoulder to wrist. Her head swiveled around to evaluate the many wonders of this little park in Broomfield, Colorado. Close to where Cameron lived with her mother, some of the time. On this one compact block were the small city’s grade school and high school. As Cameron deliberated, Layne could even hear the classroom bell ringing at the high school at the edge of the park. "Slide," Cam said. "I wanna go slide. A whole buncha times." "Slide it is," Layne said. As he stood back up, he met Inessa’s eyes, and both of their smiles faded. These co-parenting play dates had been his idea, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant to see his ex. Sometimes, he was even still mad at her. Layne had lots of practice in the art of being civil, and he considered himself to be quite skilled at it. "We should talk about something," she said in her abrasive Russian accent. "It’s important." "Can it wait?" Layne said. "I have a thing to—" But before Layne could finish the sentence, a booming noise raced across the park. A crack, loud enough to interrupt his thoughts. The sound peaked and then dissipated with a rolling echo, like thunder. Except it hadn’t been thunder. When it happened the second time, Layne knew for sure. That had been a Kalashnikov AK-12 in a semi-automatic mode. A few more shots ripped across the courtyard. By instinct, Layne pulled Cameron close to him. He knelt, folding his arms around her. As Inessa gasped and covered her head with her hands, Layne’s eyes darted around, searching for the source of the blasts. Within a couple seconds, he’d found their origin. The shots were coming from inside the high school, just beyond the park. Layne studied the grounds adjacent to the school to be sure there were no shooters outside before he released his grip on his daughter. He then spun Cameron around and took a breath before speaking. He didn’t want her to notice the spike in his heart rate. "I need you to go with Mommy." Cameron nodded dumbly as he pushed his daughter back, toward her mother. Inessa stood there, frozen in a state of near panic. Layne took Cameron’s hand and inserted it into Inessa’s hand, pressing it there. He stood up and snapped his fingers in front of Inessa’s face. This broke his ex out of her trance.

TFP503: Omega Trap – Layne Parrish Behind The Scenes

Visit jimheskett.com/seasonfive for podcast episode show notes. __________ Want the inside scoop on each Layne Parrish novel, including info on how it was created and the inspiration for each story? Check out the video below for the awesome insider info, direct from the author himself! ﻿ Want to read the first chapter? You're in luck! Layne Parrish slid his fingertips along the wooden ax handle. He appreciated the fine craftsmanship, the quality of the wood, and the razor-sharp edge of the blade. “You like it?” asked the receptionist at the lodge’s check-in desk. “What?” Layne said, angling his body toward her. As he did, he lowered his hand, since touching the ax had made the sleeve of his hoodie ride up, exposing the web of tattoos on one of his arms. Not that he expressly needed to hide his ink from this woman, but he liked to keep a low profile. During his pre-retirement jobs, Layne had to spend time cataloging what each contact knew or had seen. Too much work. Lots of work, yes, but also danger. In a situation like this, when anyone and everyone could be a suspect, care had to be exercised at all times. Letting the guard down for an instant could result in a grave mistake. Mistakes meant the targets would flee without accountability. Layne would not let them get away this time. “Sorry,” the receptionist said, her face folding like a bashful animal. “I saw you examining the ax, Mr. Priest. It was a gift from a member of the Coast Salish tribe in Vancouver. Their people used to live all up and down these mountains.” “Gotcha,” he said as he crossed the lodge’s room. Like a log cabin, the interior was stacked wood deeply stained brown, adorned with other similar objects hanging on the walls. Sets of old-timey snowshoes and long-necked rifles. Sepia-toned photographs in thin frames. He paused in front of a wolf’s head, mounted on the wall. The furry beast was in mid-growl, porcelain teeth tinged with yellow. “Is this real?” he asked. “Yes,” the receptionist said. “But he wasn’t hunted or anything of that sort. That wolf was a former resident of this area of the mountain. Some of them live in caves nearby, and we happened upon a recently deceased one at exactly the right time.” “Interesting.” Layne stepped to her desk, and she returned his passport, the American passport featuring his picture, but the name Leonard Priest. “There are still plenty of wolves wandering around, in case you decide to go for a hike. Many of them are not afraid of humans one bit.” “Noted.” “Have you been to Squamish Mountain Retreat Center before, Mr. Priest?” “Please, call me Leonard, or Lenny,” Layne said to the young woman with blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail so tight, her eyebrows arched. “And no, I haven’t. This is our first time in the area.” “Excellent, Leonard. There will be a formal orientation tomorrow morning, but feel free to grab any of the staff at any time, or call the lodge from your room. It’s a free and open sort of environment here.” He flipped through a guest book sitting on the counter. No one had signed it recently, but he made a few mental notes about things previous guests had marked. They talked about the sunsets and the hiking trails and all the typical tourist things. Since it was now in the dead of winter, Layne didn’t anticipate getting out on the hiking trails too much. “I appreciate the hospitality.” “I hope you’ll find the ‘new you’ you’ve been seeking. Everyone gets something unique from the SMRC and their stay here.” Layne accepted the two keycards for the bungalow and slid them into his pocket. “I’m counting on it.” Behind the woman’s head hung a set of crisscrossing pistols. Revolvers, at least a hundred years old. They reminded him of the Colt Peacemaker he sometimes carried. Layne pointed at them. “Those Mountie pieces?” “Oh, yes,” she said. “Donated to us by the Squamish Royal Canadian Mounted Police Sergeant himself. We have an excellent relationship with the town,

TFP502: Snow Blind- Layne Parrish Behind The Scenes

Visit jimheskett.com/seasonfive for podcast episode show notes. __________ Want the inside scoop on each Layne Parrish novel, including info on how it was created and the inspiration for each story? Check out the video below for the awesome insider info, direct from the author himself! Want to read the first chapter? You're in luck! LAYNE PARRISH ALWAYS loved a good rumpus. Nestled in a cramped bed next to a little girl named Cameron, he flipped to the last page of Where the Wild Things Are. “Daddy,” she said. “Yes, little one.” “Why did Max go home? Why can’t he stay with the wild things?” “Because he missed his family.” Cameron stared at the page, an illustration of the protagonist sailing across the water toward home. Pale brow creased, her face riddled with confusion. Thinking. Her eyes were kaleidoscopic puddles of blue crystal, glistening under the meager light of the bedside lamp. The young child readjusted herself on the twin bed, and Layne had to pivot his weight to keep from slipping over the side. “He missed his mommy and daddy?” Layne nodded. “He did.” In his pocket, a phone buzzed. He slipped it out to find a call from an unknown number lighting up the screen. Unknown to the phone companies, but Layne had a strong suspicion who was on the line. The same person who had been calling and texting him relentlessly for the last two days. “Daddy, put it away. You said no more screens.” “You’re right,” he said as he jabbed it back into his pocket. “Watching screens after dark makes our eyes cross, right?” He crossed his eyes and let his tongue loll out. She giggled and poked his chest with a finger not much bigger than a toothpick. “Daddy, stop.” Cameron traced one of her fingers along his arm, gliding across one particular section of the tattoos that covered it from wrist to shoulder. A cherub in the middle of his forearm, obscuring a gunshot wound from long ago. The cherub now appeared faded and blurry on his forty-year-old arms. The phone squirmed inside his pocket again, demanding attention. A repeat call. This time, though, he ignored the eager person on the other end of the line. “It’s time for bed,” he said. She pondered this for a moment and then frowned. “Are the wild things going to get me?” “You’re a wild thing,” he said, and his fingers leaped to her belly for a tickle. She cackled, writhing, and he instantly regretted it. Bedtime was supposed to be calm time. But he couldn’t resist torturing such an easy target. “Okay, okay, little one. Time for bed, for real.” She pushed out a breath, the remnants of tickle energy fading. Her lids were heavy, her motions thick, like a person wading through swampy water. She was an inch away from sleep. Layne anticipated no bedtime false starts tonight. “I love you much, Daddy.” He kissed her forehead as he drew the covers up to her shoulders. “And I love you much, little one.” He sneaked across the room and rested a hand on the light switch. “I’ll be right downstairs, okay?” “Okay, Daddy.” Layne flicked out the light and stole one last look at her, a miniature head nestled on a Thomas the Tank Engine pillow. He closed the door behind him as his phone buzzed yet again. Didn’t bother to take it out. Next, a knock came at the front door, downstairs. He paused for a moment in front of his daughter’s room to make sure she wouldn’t call out. No way she was asleep already, but maybe she hadn’t heard it. The excitement of someone coming to the door would turn bedtime into a circus requiring a whole new set of little kid cooldown routines. She made no sound. No vibration through the door. Layne held perfectly still until another knock came. He wasn’t unreachable in this small town, but he almost never had visitors. And never unannounced or after dark. The neighbors knew about bedtime policy and wouldn’t betray Layne’s evening ritual. He hustled down the stairs, past the fireplace, and through the living room to the front door. Keeping his large body close to the wall,

TFP501: Shadow Soldiers – Layne Parrish Behind The Scenes

Visit jimheskett.com/seasonfive for podcast episode show notes. __________ The fifth season of THE THRILLER FICTION PODCAST is nigh upon us! Let's chat about what's coming and what it's all about.   Want to know more? Make sure you visit www.jimheskett.com and poke around to learn all about the author, the show, and the secrets of the universe.

TFP500: Announcing the Fifth season!

Wrapping up season 4, talking about the future. Come along with me. For more: www.jimheskett.com/thrillerpodcast On this episode of The Thriller Fiction Podcast, we close out season 4 and reflect on the good times we had. Want to know more? Make sure you visit www.jimheskett.com and poke around to learn all about the author, the show, and the secrets of the universe.

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