Thrillers & Suspense
![J.A. Jance - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_a_ja_jance.jpg)
Unfinished Business (16) (Ali Reynolds Series)
In this heart-pounding and sharply written thriller from J.A. Jance, the "grand master of the genre" (The Providence Journal), Ali Reynolds's personal life is thrown into turmoil just as two men show up on the scene-a former employee of her husband's who has just been released from prison and a serial killer who sets his sights a little too close to home.
Mateo Vega, a one-time employee of Ali Reynold's husband, B. Simpson, has spent the last sixteen years of his life behind bars. According to the courts, he murdered his girlfriend. But Mateo knows that her real killer is still on the loose, and the first thing he's going to do when he gets a taste of freedom is track him down.
After being granted parole, a wary Mateo approaches Stu Ramey of High Noon Enterprises for a reference letter for a job application, but to his surprise, Stu gives him one better: He asks him to come on board and work for B. once again. Just as Mateo starts his new job, though, chaos breaks out at High Noon-a deadbeat tenant who is in arrears has just fled, and tech expert Cami Lee has gone missing.
As Ali races to both find a connection between the two disappearances and help Mateo clear his name with the help of PI J.P. Beaumont, tragedy strikes in her personal life, and with lives hanging in the balance, she must thread the needle between good and evil before it's too late.
Mateo Vega, a one-time employee of Ali Reynold's husband, B. Simpson, has spent the last sixteen years of his life behind bars. According to the courts, he murdered his girlfriend. But Mateo knows that her real killer is still on the loose, and the first thing he's going to do when he gets a taste of freedom is track him down.
After being granted parole, a wary Mateo approaches Stu Ramey of High Noon Enterprises for a reference letter for a job application, but to his surprise, Stu gives him one better: He asks him to come on board and work for B. once again. Just as Mateo starts his new job, though, chaos breaks out at High Noon-a deadbeat tenant who is in arrears has just fled, and tech expert Cami Lee has gone missing.
As Ali races to both find a connection between the two disappearances and help Mateo clear his name with the help of PI J.P. Beaumont, tragedy strikes in her personal life, and with lives hanging in the balance, she must thread the needle between good and evil before it's too late.
Readers Top Reviews
Marjorie W.ChickJMoi
Opening of cold cases with their solutions, exonerating a felon after 16 years of imprisonment for a crime he did not commit, new addition to the tech company that Ali and BJ own, plus a sad touch of Senior Dementia is told about. All these themes intertwine to make this a sad/joyous story. I really enjoyed it as well as being reminded of my own experience with my husbands last years. I recommend it.
Kindle
This for me was the best of the Ali Reynolds stories. It ha suspense,drama and the surprise appearance of UP Beaumont. I like his stories best of all JA Lance characters. So it was sad to see it near Bob Larson's passiing. Sonic you are a fan of US then you need to bring the Kleenex box and enjoy this goodread!
Judith C. Simmons
I have enjoyed all of the Ali Reynolds books. There is a wonderful mix of realistic characters. We get to know Ali’s extended family including her parents, husband, son, daughter in law, and grand children as well as the employees of High Noon the technical computer company that Ali and B co-own and manage. Their home and business are located in Arizona, which is where I grew up so I liked reading about places that I was familiar with but if you aren’t you will still learn a lot about the locations
Lee Wallmvp
I really want to like this series. However, there always seem to be issues that bother me and keep me from becoming fully involved in the stories. Here are a few of my problems with this book (spoilers!). 1. The character of Frigg belongs in a science fiction book, not a contemporary mystery. Every time they turn to “her” for answers it reminds me how ridiculous and cheap this plot device is. 2. The whole Alzheimer’s story did not ring true. You cannot get to that degree of impairment without it being noticeable - for years. Ali must be incredibly unobservant - and uninformed. 3. How is it that this supposedly hotshot security firm did not do a background check on their own potential tenant??? 4. The author pulls in J P Beaumont from one of her other series for no obvious reason and spends considerable time describing him and his family members...also for no obvious reason, other than filler. I half expected Sheriff Joanna Brady, from yet another series, to pop up. 5. The book covers multiple independent story lines. You have to take note of the chapter headings to keep track of who and when. It just felt choppy and ultimately unsatisfying since there was no real connection. At this point my mixed feelings have become too negative and I will skip any future books in this series.
Robert Clark
I started this yesterday afternoon, and early tonight I am sadly finished. ( as I always am with books by my favorite authors) I one emailed Ms Jance that It took me a couple of books to grow to love Ali, I think because I so loved both JP, and Joanna so much. ( the walkers also) But I grew to love her and her world of characters as much as the others. This book was very special. With a shout out to Howlers, and to loving Daniel Silva, I had goose bumps with the introduction of Beau as a cross character. This happened with Beau and Joanna many books ago, and love it when characters of different worlds connect. If you are among the millions who love every word written by Ms Janice, down load or purchase a DTB right away and but aside the time, because this book packs a roller coaster ride of sorrow and joy.
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter 1 |CHAPTER 1|
MONROE, WASHINGTON
- May 2017 -
Mateo Vega lay on his narrow, metal-framed cot with his hands behind his head and stared up at the blank ceiling. He knew every hairline crack and blemish in the dingy paint. He knew which of the three hundred–plus CMUs, the concrete masonry units, that made up the three solid walls of his eight-by-ten cage had faint remnants of graffiti scratched indelibly into their rough surfaces by hopeless souls marking time. He'd been in this cell for eight of the past sixteen years, but tomorrow, finally, he'd be out.
"So tomorrow's the big day, then?" Pop said from his cot on the far side of the cell. Pop's given name was Henry Mansfield Johnson, but no one called him that. He was a wiry black man, a gay one as well, who had murdered his former partner and the partner's new lover sometime back in the eighties. Pop was the first to admit that his double homicide had been a cold-blooded crime, with plenty of premeditation thrown into the bargain. Somewhere along the way during his lengthy incarceration, he'd had his come-to-Jesus moment. Based on what he'd read in a now well-thumbed Bible, his sins were forgiven and his soul was saved. That was fine as far as the spiritual world was concerned. In the real world, however, nothing had changed, and Pop was determined to serve out his two life sentences with as much humility and grace as he could muster.
Mateo and Pop had been cellmates for five years now and friends for most of that, primarily because they both were outsiders. They kept their noses clean and steered clear of trouble. Neither of them was a lifetime criminal with a long, diverse rap sheet that started with juvenile offenses and escalated from there. They were in prison for similar crimes-the murder of a previous lover. There was one major difference between them, however: Pop accepted full responsibility for what he had done. Mateo did not. At his public defender's urging, he had entered a guilty plea to second-degree murder, but ever since he'd steadfastly maintained his innocence.
His final parole hearing, his tenth, had taken place six weeks earlier. They'd approved his request, but it had taken from then until now for the Department of Corrections to finally get its act together and issue his discharge papers. Evidently it took that long to cross all the t's and dot all the i's.
"According to what I've been told," Mateo responded finally, "I'm supposed to be on my way by eleven tomorrow morning."
That was how their leisurely conversations went. With nothing but time between them, the reply to a question might come five to ten minutes after it had been asked.
"What's the first thing you're gonna do?"
"Find a taco truck," Mateo answered, "preferably one where they make their tacos with shredded beef as opposed to mystery meat."
Food in the Monroe Correctional Facility was, generally speaking, bad news, but what was purported to be Mexican food scraped the very bottom of the barrel.
Pop laughed. "If it was me, I'd head straight for the Central District and hook me up with some of Ezell's Famous Chicken-if they's still in business, that is," he added. Another long pause followed. "Then what?" Pop asked.
For someone like Pop, doing life without parole, the idea of getting out of prison was an impossible dream, and hearing about someone else's upcoming release was like listening to a fairy tale. Knowing that was the case, Mateo was glad to humor him.
"Find a place to live."
"How you gonna pay for it?"
"Work."
"Doing what?"
Mateo shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'll be a day laborer for now. I bet there are still groups of guys hanging out by Home Depot and Lowe's looking for work."
"I hear they's almost unionized these days," Pop told him. "Some guy organizes it all, and then he takes a cut of what everyone makes."
"Figures," Mateo muttered under his breath.
"Knowin' you," Pop said encouragingly, "I think you'll be jus' fine."
"What I'm really going to do," Mateo added determinedly after another long pause, "is find the son of a bitch who really killed Emily Tarrant."
"You bet," Pop agreed with a grin, "you and O.J. How do you think that's gonna turn out for you?"
Mateo didn't answer. The conversation ended then, and another long silence fell between them, as much silence as there ever was in the perpetual din of the cellblock. And in that silence, Mateo lay there thinking.
No matter how many years crept by, Mateo remembered the conversation with his public defender almost verbatim. It had occurred in an interview room deep in the bowels of Seattle's King County Jail. All the interview rooms looked exactl...
MONROE, WASHINGTON
- May 2017 -
Mateo Vega lay on his narrow, metal-framed cot with his hands behind his head and stared up at the blank ceiling. He knew every hairline crack and blemish in the dingy paint. He knew which of the three hundred–plus CMUs, the concrete masonry units, that made up the three solid walls of his eight-by-ten cage had faint remnants of graffiti scratched indelibly into their rough surfaces by hopeless souls marking time. He'd been in this cell for eight of the past sixteen years, but tomorrow, finally, he'd be out.
"So tomorrow's the big day, then?" Pop said from his cot on the far side of the cell. Pop's given name was Henry Mansfield Johnson, but no one called him that. He was a wiry black man, a gay one as well, who had murdered his former partner and the partner's new lover sometime back in the eighties. Pop was the first to admit that his double homicide had been a cold-blooded crime, with plenty of premeditation thrown into the bargain. Somewhere along the way during his lengthy incarceration, he'd had his come-to-Jesus moment. Based on what he'd read in a now well-thumbed Bible, his sins were forgiven and his soul was saved. That was fine as far as the spiritual world was concerned. In the real world, however, nothing had changed, and Pop was determined to serve out his two life sentences with as much humility and grace as he could muster.
Mateo and Pop had been cellmates for five years now and friends for most of that, primarily because they both were outsiders. They kept their noses clean and steered clear of trouble. Neither of them was a lifetime criminal with a long, diverse rap sheet that started with juvenile offenses and escalated from there. They were in prison for similar crimes-the murder of a previous lover. There was one major difference between them, however: Pop accepted full responsibility for what he had done. Mateo did not. At his public defender's urging, he had entered a guilty plea to second-degree murder, but ever since he'd steadfastly maintained his innocence.
His final parole hearing, his tenth, had taken place six weeks earlier. They'd approved his request, but it had taken from then until now for the Department of Corrections to finally get its act together and issue his discharge papers. Evidently it took that long to cross all the t's and dot all the i's.
"According to what I've been told," Mateo responded finally, "I'm supposed to be on my way by eleven tomorrow morning."
That was how their leisurely conversations went. With nothing but time between them, the reply to a question might come five to ten minutes after it had been asked.
"What's the first thing you're gonna do?"
"Find a taco truck," Mateo answered, "preferably one where they make their tacos with shredded beef as opposed to mystery meat."
Food in the Monroe Correctional Facility was, generally speaking, bad news, but what was purported to be Mexican food scraped the very bottom of the barrel.
Pop laughed. "If it was me, I'd head straight for the Central District and hook me up with some of Ezell's Famous Chicken-if they's still in business, that is," he added. Another long pause followed. "Then what?" Pop asked.
For someone like Pop, doing life without parole, the idea of getting out of prison was an impossible dream, and hearing about someone else's upcoming release was like listening to a fairy tale. Knowing that was the case, Mateo was glad to humor him.
"Find a place to live."
"How you gonna pay for it?"
"Work."
"Doing what?"
Mateo shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'll be a day laborer for now. I bet there are still groups of guys hanging out by Home Depot and Lowe's looking for work."
"I hear they's almost unionized these days," Pop told him. "Some guy organizes it all, and then he takes a cut of what everyone makes."
"Figures," Mateo muttered under his breath.
"Knowin' you," Pop said encouragingly, "I think you'll be jus' fine."
"What I'm really going to do," Mateo added determinedly after another long pause, "is find the son of a bitch who really killed Emily Tarrant."
"You bet," Pop agreed with a grin, "you and O.J. How do you think that's gonna turn out for you?"
Mateo didn't answer. The conversation ended then, and another long silence fell between them, as much silence as there ever was in the perpetual din of the cellblock. And in that silence, Mateo lay there thinking.
No matter how many years crept by, Mateo remembered the conversation with his public defender almost verbatim. It had occurred in an interview room deep in the bowels of Seattle's King County Jail. All the interview rooms looked exactl...
