Thursday, November 17, 2016

Jayson Livingston

The Harbinger by Jayson Livingston ...

“Just finished it, phenomenal read! Comparable to early Michael Connelly's stuff but darker. I look forward to his next one.”

“An exciting murder mystery with shades of CSI. Once I started to read I could not put it down. Now I have to catch up on some sleep. Authentic sounding dialog, interesting characters, and lots of twists. The accurate descriptions make you feel like you are there in rural northern California. Lots of action, good police work and character development. I look forward to the next novel by this author.”


“CHP is chasing a light-colored van.”

“Oh, snap!” Harlow followed Lane out of the office and into the unit parked near the front door.

They slammed the doors as Lane gunned the gas, lights and siren wailing, skidding out of the parking lot.

They strapped in and Lane turned up the radio.

It came to life almost immediately. “Plumas two-two-one, I’m with CHP. We’re still east bound seventy.”

“We’re a long ways off,” Lane said. He had the patrol car at over a hundred MPH and gritted his teeth as the unit slid into a turn. He passed two motor homes and a logging truck. “This would be the suck if it was mid July and the road was filled with tourists.”

Harlow nodded as he held onto the dashboard and ceiling watching Lane negotiate the many turns with ease and skill.

“Nine-oh-one, nine-oh-one,” Junior screamed into the radio. “Suspect vehicle ran CHP off the road! Start an ambulance to Highway Seventy, near Top Hat Road.” There was a long pause, and then, “We’re now west bound Highway Seventy.”

Lane nodded. “They’re heading toward us.”

At over a hundred miles an hour, Lane closed the twenty-four miles from Quincy to the Highway 70/89 junction in a mere thirteen minutes.

Lane slid the patrol car sideways to a stop at the junction of 70 and 89. Plumes of white smoke hung in the air like a thick mist. “Plumas two-two-nine I’m set up at the junction.”

“We’ll be there in a minute, Lane,” Junior said, adding, “We’re hitting speeds of over a hundred miles an hour.”

“Two-two-eight, I’m with two-two-nine.”

Lane saw Mitch coming north bound on 89. He slid to a stop near Lane’s unit.

Two CHP units coming in from the west joined the roadblock and Harlow mumbled, “I feel like I’m in a cheap seventies trucker movie.” He pulled the shotgun mounted between the front seats of the patrol car and cranked the beaver tail.

The pursuit crested the hill to the east and started down the quarter mile grade to the junction. Lane could see the flashing light bars and wig-wags of the two units. Sirens screamed in all directions.

For years to come, Lane would explain what happened next as one of the most surreal moments he had ever encountered.

The sound of a big rig’s Jake brake thumped, deafening Lane momentarily. He glanced behind him and saw the logging truck, payload heavy, trying to stop as he rounded the bend in the road. The big rig jackknifed, dropping its load. Sounds of huge pine logs hitting the pavement with thundering force echoed around them. The van was on them as the massive logs bounced down the highway. A log slammed into a CHP unit, pushing it on its side. A second log hit the undercarriage, forcing the car onto its roof. The CHP officers ran for cover on the north shoulder of the highway. A third log, smaller in diameter, punched through the back window of the second CHP car.

Lane and Harlow, close enough to their vehicle, jumped into the car, Lane slamming the gearshift into reverse and backing up into a dirt field to the south, avoiding the herd of rolling, bouncing timber.

The radio was full of chatter, units stepping on each other as each tried to convey what was happening.

Sliding left, trying to make the turn onto Highway 89, the van went onto two wheels as both Junior and the CHP unit slid past the van and into a dirt field, Junior fighting the fishtail.

Clouds of dust made visibility zero. Lane put the car in drive and drove into the wall of dust. Then they were spun; someone clipped the ass end of the patrol car. He hit the gas and cleared the dust cloud. Mitch’s voice came on the radio. “We’re west bound on Little Bear Road, heading for the Ranger Station.”

Junior was slamming through the deeper end of the dirt field, when steam billowed from the unit, rendering Junior out of the pursuit.

Lane saw the van and Mitch drop out of sight down Little Bear Road and punched the unit’s gas, saying, “Hang on!”

He rocketed past Junior’s unit, hitting two large dips, causing them to bang their heads on the roof.

“Jesus Christ!” Harlow yelled as Lane cleared the field, his tires catching traction on the pavement.

“We’re approaching Mohawk Highway,” Mitch said.

Lane was closing fast and saw the van slide into a brick retaining wall, careen off, and rocket toward the intersection.

The Harbinger
Jayson Livingston
Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Action,

Print Length: 312 pages
Word Count: 40,000
Publication Date: May 7, 2016
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services LLC
Language: English

Book Description:

Plumas County Deputy Sheriff Lane Childress has a good life: a host of friends, a loving girlfriend, the respect of his fellow officers, all in the natural beauty of rural Northern California. Having transferred from the tough inner city beat of the Oakland PD only three years ago, his competence and integrity have earned him respect in the peaceful, mountain county. The community's quiet serenity is shattered abruptly when fourteen-year-old Kelly Stockton is found murdered, her body brutally maimed. As tourist season approaches, and another body is discovered, the pressure mounts on Lane, the lead detective. Along with State Investigator Patterson Harlow, Lane races to find the killer before further mayhem strikes the county.

About the Author:

Jayson Livingston was born and raised in Sacramento, CA. He worked 23 years as Director of Security at the Marriott Hotel in Rancho Cordova, leaving in 2007 to pursue a career as a writer. He worked with the Sacramento County Sheriff’s Department on a daily basis and has made lifelong friends with many deputies ranging from Patrol, SED, Narcotics and Homicide and has logged over 5,000 hours of ride-a-longs with the patrol division. He published is first book Point Blank (St. Martin’s Press) at the age of 25. The Harbinger is his first self-published book. Mourning of Angels, Jayson’s newest book, was just published and introduces Sacramento County Homicide Detective Luke Masters. Jayson is 51 and is married to his beautiful wife Starr.



Twitter  @jlivingston26



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