Heat Rises (Nikki Heat). Home · Heat Rises Naked Heat (Nikki Heat). Read more · Naked Heat (Nikki Heat) · Read more · Heat Wave (Nikki Heat). Read more. ALSO BY NANCY THAYER Beachcombers Summer House Moon Shell Beach The Hot Flash Club Chills Out Hot Flash Holidays The H. Heat Wave (Nikki Heat, #1), Naked Heat (Nikki Heat, #2), Heat Rises (Nikki Heat, #3), Frozen Heat (Nikki Heat, #4), Deadly Heat (Nikki Heat, #5), Raging.
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The Nikki Heat novels by “Richard Castle”. Heat Wave . A New York real estate tycoon plunges to his death on a Manhattan sidewalk. A trophy wife with a . Aug 20, As a promotion for the show, "Richard Castle's" (ghost-written) book Heat Wave was released in hardcover by Hyperion on 29 September and debuted at #26 on the New York Times bestseller list. Mystery sensation Richard Castle, blockbuster author of the wildly best-selling. Heat Wave. Nikki Heat (Series). Book 1. Richard Castle Author Johnny Heller Narrator (). cover image of Heat Wave.
She opened the car door and went to work. The wallop of one hundred degrees almost shoved her back in the car.
New York was a furnace, and the soft pavement on West 77th gave under her feet like she was walking on wet sand. Heat could have made it easier on herself by parking closer, but this was another of her rituals: Every crime scene was a flavor of chaos, and these two hundred feet afforded the detective her only chance to fill the clean slate with her own impressions.
Thanks to the afternoon swelter, the sidewalk was nearly empty.
The neighborhood lunch rush was over, and tourists were either across the street cooling in the American Museum of Natural History or seeking refuge in Starbucks over iced drinks ending in vowels.
Her disdain for the coffee drinkers dissolved into a mental note to get one herself on the way back to the precinct. His hat was off and he was sitting on the worn marble steps with his head between his knees. She looked up at the hunter green canopy as she passed him and read the building name: The Guilford.
Did she know the uniform flashing her the smile? She rapid-fired a slideshow of faces but stopped when she realized he was just checking her out. Detective Heat smiled back and parted her linen blazer to give him something else to fantasize about.
His face rearranged itself when he saw the shield on her waistband. All the tables at La Chaleur Belle were empty except one where Detective Raley of her squad sat with a distraught family with sunburned faces struggling to translate German into a statement.
Their uneaten lunch swarmed with flies. Sparrows, avid outdoor diners themselves, perched on seat backs and made bold dives for pommes frites. At the service door Detective Ochoa looked up from his notebook and quick-nodded her while he questioned a busboy in a white apron flecked with blood. The rest of the serving staff was inside at the bar having a drink after what they had witnessed.
Severe blunt force trauma to head, neck, and chest. The detective glanced and quickly looked away. Is this where he landed? It had caved in from the top so hard it was split in half.
The violent splash of ice and blood had already baked into the sidewalk in the minutes since the fall. She got as close to the wreckage as she dared without contaminating the scene and looked straight up.
She just sighed his name. The job was hard enough if you were doing it right. Add a reporter with a mouth playing make-believe cop and your day just got a little longer. Rook moved with her. You get to observe on all my homicides just like real-life detectives who work for a living. I accept your apology. At least not from me. You radiate subtext. God, you make me feel cheap.
Go check him out, see if he knows our Doe. And while I try to do my job, would it be too much to ask that you maintain a little decorum?
No problem. Jameson Rook?! Then she ducked under the yellow tape. Literate fans are the worst. She nodded to the uniforms and they waited. The cover shot was Rook and Bono at a relief center in Africa.
I have a Sharpie. Rook smiled. He left the shade of the canopy, did a limbo under the tape, and crossed to her. Sixth floor. When she caught Rook staring at her from across the room, he turned away and studied the Jackson Pollock on the wall in front of him.
Heat wondered if Starr was a jumper. The economy, or, more accurately, the lack of it, had triggered scores of collateral tragedies. Was ego an antidote?
A perennial also-ran in the race to slap his name on the outside of everything with a roof, you had to credit Starr with at least staying in the chase. And by the looks of his digs, he had been weathering the storm lavishly on two luxury floors of a landmark building just off Central Park West.
Every furnishing was either antique or designer; the living room was a grand salon two stories high, and its walls were covered up to the cathedral ceiling by collectible art. Safe bet nobody left take-out menus or locksmith brochures at this front door. Heat excused herself and crossed the room, gliding in and out of ponds of light beaming down from the upper windows, casting an aura on her. She sidestepped the forensics tech dusting the French doors and went out onto the balcony, flipping her notebook to a blank page.
He winced and the sweat bead clinging to the tip of his nose fell onto her page. I know to you this is just another crime scene, right?
Are you hearing me? And when we get out of here? I want to hear that joke. I could use it. But not out front.
Do you hear me? Not out front. Now, Rook is given the honor to be a visiting professor at his alma mater, and he can't pass up the opportunity to mentor burgeoning writers at his former award-winning college newspaper.
Shortly after his arrival on campus, a female reporter for the paper is found dead - naked - in Rook's bed. Dealing with betrayal from any man is not Nikki's style. She and Jameson have had plenty of conflicts during their complicated relationship, but none like this. Is her husband keeping secrets of his own, or can she really trust him?
In order to find out, Nikki gives Jameson the benefit of the doubt and digs into Jameson's theory of a secret society within a secret society. What she finds puts her investigative skills, and her marriage, to the test. Crashing Heat Nikki Heat Author s: Kingswell Availability: Blackstone Pub Availability: Hachette Original Availability: