Thrillers & Suspense
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Robert B. Parker's Fallout (A Jesse Stone Novel)
When two seemingly unconnected mysterious deaths occur on his watch, police chief Jesse Stone must pull out all the stops to unravel the truth and stop a killer from striking again.
The small town of Paradise is devastated when a star high-school baseball player is found dead at the bottom of a bluff just a day after winning the team's biggest game. For Jesse, the loss is doubly difficult-the teen was the nephew of his colleague, Suitcase Simpson, and Jesse had been coaching the young shortstop. As he searches for answers about how the boy died and why, he is stonewalled at every turn, and it seems that someone is determined to keep him from digging further.
Jesse suddenly must divide his attention between two cases after the shocking murder of former Paradise police chief, Charlie Farrell. Before his death, Farrell had been looking into a series of scam calls that preyed upon the elderly. But how do these "ghost calls" connect to his murder? When threats-and gunshots-appear on Jesse's own doorstep, the race to find answers is on. Both old and new enemies come into play, and in the end, Jesse and his team must discover the common factor between the two deaths in order to prevent a third.
The small town of Paradise is devastated when a star high-school baseball player is found dead at the bottom of a bluff just a day after winning the team's biggest game. For Jesse, the loss is doubly difficult-the teen was the nephew of his colleague, Suitcase Simpson, and Jesse had been coaching the young shortstop. As he searches for answers about how the boy died and why, he is stonewalled at every turn, and it seems that someone is determined to keep him from digging further.
Jesse suddenly must divide his attention between two cases after the shocking murder of former Paradise police chief, Charlie Farrell. Before his death, Farrell had been looking into a series of scam calls that preyed upon the elderly. But how do these "ghost calls" connect to his murder? When threats-and gunshots-appear on Jesse's own doorstep, the race to find answers is on. Both old and new enemies come into play, and in the end, Jesse and his team must discover the common factor between the two deaths in order to prevent a third.
Readers Top Reviews
Michael S. James P
Always glad to have another installment of Jesse and his cast of characters Nice to see Crow again. It always seems like a long time between books Don’t make us wait so long for the next one
Grace E.
So many characters, so much going on, but it was worth it in the end. Another great Jessie Stone story. Next time give a character line up list to go along with the story…I’ll give it 5 stars then.
Pleasantly surprised with this book. Author brought in some characters from previous books . hesitated in ordering because I had purchased a mike lupica book previously and did not enjoy it at all. Jesse stone is a great character and this book was enjoyable.
Randy Yost
This book started off like some others but suddenly began to change keeping you interested. It was so good that later, when I started reading it again I couldn’t put it down and finished the whole thing. Loved it !
Kindle
The only bad thing about Mr.Lupica's books is that once you start, you can't stop until it's finished. This was no exception. And a twist at the end I never saw coming. If you like Jesse Stone, read this latest chapter...you won't be sorry.
Short Excerpt Teaser
One
Jesse Stone looked out at the baseball game being played at O'Hara Field, a ballgame on an afternoon like this always a beautiful thing, at least to him, his eyes fixed at the moment on the kid playing shortstop.
Jesse felt as if he were looking at himself, back when he was a high school senior, back when he could see a whole lifetime of baseball days like this stretching out in front of him.
This kid was a little taller. Had a little more range. But not more arm. Definitely not more arm.
Nobody ever had more arm than I did.
Jesse felt himself smiling. Because even knowing what he knew about what had happened once he made it as far as Triple-A, the big leagues close enough to touch, knowing how baseball would break his goddamn heart later, he wanted to climb down out of the bleachers and be this kid's age and change places with him in a heartbeat.
Just for one more afternoon.
Have one more game like this.
"What did you think about when it was late in a game like this?" Suitcase Simpson asked.
Suit was on one side of Jesse. Molly Crane was on the other. The kid at short, Jack Carlisle, was Suit's nephew, his sister Laura's boy. About to accept a scholarship to go play college ball at Vanderbilt, unless he changed his mind at the last second. Jesse didn't follow college ball the way he did the majors. But he knew enough to know that Vanderbilt had a big-ass program, and had sent a lot of kids to the big leagues over the years.
"I wanted the ball hit to me," Jesse said.
He heard a snort from Molly.
"So you could be in control. I'm shocked. Shocked, I tell ya."
Without turning, Jesse put a finger to his lips.
"Don't you shush me, Jesse Stone," she said. "You act like we're in church."
"Baseball is better than church," Jesse said.
Molly, the good Catholic girl, stared up at the sky. "Forgive him, Father." She smiled. "And not just for that."
Jesse turned to Suit. "I feel as if I've been sitting next to fans like her at ballgames my whole life."
"You wish," Molly said.
Suit shook his head. "I feel like I've got a bad middle seat on a long plane ride."
The Paradise Pirates were ahead of Marshport, 21. League championship game. Bottom of the ninth. Jesse always wanted to laugh when he heard people calling teams "bitter" rivals in sports. Only people on the outside. They had no idea. All they had to do was watch a game like this. Every single one of these kids on this field, both teams, waiting for the ball to be put in play and so much to start happening at once, was exactly where he wanted to be.
Where I always wanted to be.
Wanting the ball to be hit to me.
He had been working with Jack Carlisle a little bit this spring, at Suit's request. Trying to teach the kid some of the things that Jesse had learned on his own. Not teach him everything he knew. Just some of it. Some of the baseball he still had in him, despite landing on his shoulder that day in Albuquerque, his dreams about making The Show crash-landing right along with him.
His father had always been more interested in being a cop than he was in baseball. Or watching his kid play baseball. Jesse could count on one hand the times the old man had actually shown up for one of his games.
Two outs now. The Marshport center fielder had just struck out swinging.
But the tying run was still at third base.
Go-ahead run at second.
"Move to your right," Jesse said quietly.
As if somehow Jack Carlisle could hear him.
"He pulled one into the hole his last time out."
Still talking to himself. But tricking himself into believing he was talking to the kid at short.
"What?" Suit asked.
"Nothing" was Jesse's reply.
The Marshport batter stepped out of the box, buying himself some time. Maybe about to win the game, and the championship, for his team with a hit, or end his season with an out.
Across the field Jesse saw Nellie Shofner, from the Town Crier, taking notes. She still hadn't moved on to a bigger paper, though she clearly had the talent, and the work ethic. Jesse knew she was working on a feature about Jack Carlisle, one the Crier was going to run as soon as he signed his letter of intent with Vandy.
Nellie saw Jesse looking over at her and waved.
"Oh, look," Molly said. "It's Gidget."
Jesse ignored his deputy chief and leaned forward, the pitcher ready to pitch and the batter ready to hit now.
Jesse Stone looked out at the baseball game being played at O'Hara Field, a ballgame on an afternoon like this always a beautiful thing, at least to him, his eyes fixed at the moment on the kid playing shortstop.
Jesse felt as if he were looking at himself, back when he was a high school senior, back when he could see a whole lifetime of baseball days like this stretching out in front of him.
This kid was a little taller. Had a little more range. But not more arm. Definitely not more arm.
Nobody ever had more arm than I did.
Jesse felt himself smiling. Because even knowing what he knew about what had happened once he made it as far as Triple-A, the big leagues close enough to touch, knowing how baseball would break his goddamn heart later, he wanted to climb down out of the bleachers and be this kid's age and change places with him in a heartbeat.
Just for one more afternoon.
Have one more game like this.
"What did you think about when it was late in a game like this?" Suitcase Simpson asked.
Suit was on one side of Jesse. Molly Crane was on the other. The kid at short, Jack Carlisle, was Suit's nephew, his sister Laura's boy. About to accept a scholarship to go play college ball at Vanderbilt, unless he changed his mind at the last second. Jesse didn't follow college ball the way he did the majors. But he knew enough to know that Vanderbilt had a big-ass program, and had sent a lot of kids to the big leagues over the years.
"I wanted the ball hit to me," Jesse said.
He heard a snort from Molly.
"So you could be in control. I'm shocked. Shocked, I tell ya."
Without turning, Jesse put a finger to his lips.
"Don't you shush me, Jesse Stone," she said. "You act like we're in church."
"Baseball is better than church," Jesse said.
Molly, the good Catholic girl, stared up at the sky. "Forgive him, Father." She smiled. "And not just for that."
Jesse turned to Suit. "I feel as if I've been sitting next to fans like her at ballgames my whole life."
"You wish," Molly said.
Suit shook his head. "I feel like I've got a bad middle seat on a long plane ride."
The Paradise Pirates were ahead of Marshport, 21. League championship game. Bottom of the ninth. Jesse always wanted to laugh when he heard people calling teams "bitter" rivals in sports. Only people on the outside. They had no idea. All they had to do was watch a game like this. Every single one of these kids on this field, both teams, waiting for the ball to be put in play and so much to start happening at once, was exactly where he wanted to be.
Where I always wanted to be.
Wanting the ball to be hit to me.
He had been working with Jack Carlisle a little bit this spring, at Suit's request. Trying to teach the kid some of the things that Jesse had learned on his own. Not teach him everything he knew. Just some of it. Some of the baseball he still had in him, despite landing on his shoulder that day in Albuquerque, his dreams about making The Show crash-landing right along with him.
His father had always been more interested in being a cop than he was in baseball. Or watching his kid play baseball. Jesse could count on one hand the times the old man had actually shown up for one of his games.
Two outs now. The Marshport center fielder had just struck out swinging.
But the tying run was still at third base.
Go-ahead run at second.
"Move to your right," Jesse said quietly.
As if somehow Jack Carlisle could hear him.
"He pulled one into the hole his last time out."
Still talking to himself. But tricking himself into believing he was talking to the kid at short.
"What?" Suit asked.
"Nothing" was Jesse's reply.
The Marshport batter stepped out of the box, buying himself some time. Maybe about to win the game, and the championship, for his team with a hit, or end his season with an out.
Across the field Jesse saw Nellie Shofner, from the Town Crier, taking notes. She still hadn't moved on to a bigger paper, though she clearly had the talent, and the work ethic. Jesse knew she was working on a feature about Jack Carlisle, one the Crier was going to run as soon as he signed his letter of intent with Vandy.
Nellie saw Jesse looking over at her and waved.
"Oh, look," Molly said. "It's Gidget."
Jesse ignored his deputy chief and leaned forward, the pitcher ready to pitch and the batter ready to hit now.
