Tell us a little about yourself and how you came to be in the midst of such suspense.
I’m a police detective from Toronto. The Niagara Regional police chief needed an officer to secretly come in from outside their force to work an undercover operation that might implicate one of their own. Since I’d recently been shot in the line of duty, it was easy to feign the desire to quit and move into a quieter line of work (i.e. a counselor at Hope Manor, a faith-based youth detention facility in Niagara).
So, during the book you met Kim Corbett. Tell us a bit about her. What was your first impression? When did you know it was love?
Kim is an amazing woman. If I’d had someone like her championing me when I was a teen, I would have turned my life around a lot sooner. She’s as loyal as they come. She genuinely believes in people and wants the best for them and will do anything to help them reach their potential. I love how she isn’t afraid to stand up to me. I love her refusal to give up on the kids at the manor. I love that she trusted me enough to let me do my job even though it threatened everything she’d worked for. Early on I started wondering what it would be like to be loved by a woman like Kim, but it took me a long time to admit my feelings.
What strengths/skills do you have? What is your greatest weakness?
I’m good at my job as a cop, a quick thinker, but some would say I’m reckless. I guess that’s because I don’t value my own life over another’s.
What scares you?
Messing up. I don’t want to see another person get hurt because I didn’t do what I should. If only succeeding on this mission didn’t mean destroying everything Kim’s trying to protect.
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
My last day of school the year I was 16. My actions that day cost too much.
Where are you in your faith at the start of your story?
I believe in God. I’m happy enough working to get bad guys off the street. It’s the least I can do, considering what my mistake cost Joy. I’ll do whatever I have to do to deserve her forgiveness.
Where are you in your faith at the end of the story?
I finally believe that God can forgive me anything, does forgive me, and I’ve finally forgiven myself.
You’ve got a scripture at the end of the story. Tell us why this scripture is significant.
“The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind.” Isaiah 65:17b reminds me that God doesn’t look back and neither should I.
If you could be a dessert what would you be and why?
A Rice Krispie square. Easy to take anywhere. Never falls apart. Plain, but good. Never get tired of having them. Can fancy it up with Christmas sprinkles on top.
Mrs. Corbett, the heroine’s mother in Shades of Truth, stress bakes. Check out this healthy favorite.
6 large bananas 1 egg
1 tsp baking soda 1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt 1 ½ cups whole wheat flour
3 tbsp olive oil ½ cup chocolate chips
Mash bananas. Add slightly beaten egg and olive oil. Stir in the dry ingredients just to combine. Spoon into muffin tins. Bake at 375 °F for 20 minutes.
Rick Gray strode toward the spray-painted warning inside the half-framed building. The sawdust-strewn floor groaned under his weight, then suddenly gave way, dropping him ten feet onto his back in basement mud. His hard hat cracked against a rock and the air rushed from his lungs. Pain streaked through his body. He tried to suck in a breath, but his chest seized.
He willed his muscles to relax and tried again. This time a gasp squeaked through.
He squinted past the flashes of color dancing in front of his eyes and focused on the floor joists that dangled over his head. He might be an undercover cop just posing as the foreman on this group-home project, but he didn’t have to be the real thing to spot the clean saw-lines bisecting three of the struts.
Fury blazed through his veins. If the basement slab had been poured yesterday as planned, he’d be a dead man.
Holding his breath against the throbbing pain, Rick crawled up the ladder to the main floor. Last night’s rain had turned the Southern Ontario sandy loam into a soupy mess, and the late winter chill layering the air around Miller’s Bay bit through his damp jeans. Bit like the suspicion nipping at his thoughts that this wasn’t the handiwork of another disgruntled neighbor.
The warning to stop construction on the controversial home for the mentally challenged might be from an angry Not-In-My-Back-Yarder, but if his “boss” had figured out why Rick really took this job, staging an accident that looked like the work of local protestors was an inspired way to take him out.
Two shiny leather shoes, enveloped in thin rubber sole guards, met his nose at the top of the ladder. Rick shot out his hand and dug his fingers into the floorboards, bracing himself for the push that would send the ladder, and him, toppling back to the ground.
Emile Laud’s well-manicured hand reached for Rick’s free arm and hoisted him up the last three rungs. In a three-piece suit and Burberry overcoat, his boss clearly hadn’t planned on picking his way across a construction site. “What happened?”
“Sabotage,” Rick grunted, his suspicion of Laud masked by his struggle to pull in a full breath.
The panic that flashed in Laud’s eyes wasn’t the response of a man who’d just tried to kill off his foreman. His gaze traveled across the splintered wood, up Rick’s mud-caked pants, and paused on the cracked hard hat clutched in Rick’s fist. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll live.” Rick watched Laud’s reaction, but nothing in his expression suggested he hoped otherwise. So who was their saboteur? And what did he really want?
Laud pried a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and wiped the mud from his hands. “Those crazy radicals have gone too far this time. I’ve got my new PR girl stopping by this morning. We’ll have her take pictures and write a news article to rally public opinion to our side.”
Rick kneaded the muscles in the back of his neck. Here to nail Laud for the arson murder of two—maybe more—people, Rick couldn’t afford to have an innocent get in his way. And that’s exactly what would happen if this new PR person acted on Laud’s suggestion. She’d become the face and voice of this project, and far too enticing a target for their saboteur.
A beat-up green Impala crested the hill beyond the site.
“Here she comes now,” Laud said, motioning toward the car.
Rick’s heart slammed into his aching ribs. He’d know that car—and its driver—anywhere. Ginny Bryson. The one person who could blow his cover wide open.
She may not know what he really was, but she knew he was no construction foreman. Rick braced his hand on the nearest stud and razored a breath into his lungs. His ex-girlfriend couldn’t have picked a worse time to careen back into his life. How was he supposed to keep her safe, this time?
She parked next to Laud’s BMW, and the instant her sleek legs dropped into view below the driver’s door, Rick’s mouth went dry. The sight of her roused memories he’d been trying to forget for fifteen long months.
The wind tousled her hair and reflexively, his fingers curled. He could almost feel the silky caress of her blond tresses. In those moments when he let her take over his thoughts, he could still breathe in her lavender scent and hear the sweet ring of her laughter.
Laud tiptoed through the mud to greet his niece, and then led her across strips of plywood toward the building.
Instinctively, Rick limped into the shadows, because the second Ginny looked past his new mustache and bristly hair, and recognized him, she’d rat him out to her Uncle Emile. The uncle she’d claimed to never see.
Rick glanced skyward and prayed for a miracle.
A lone backhoe loomed on the horizon, silhouetted against the steel gray sky, its tires caked in mud. Too bad the machine wasn’t big enough to dig him out of this mess.
The last thing he wanted to do was lie to Ginny. Again.
He’d relived her betrayed expression too many times during the lonely months since the last time. Rick slapped on his hard hat and steeled himself against his regrets. He’d been undercover on another case when they met and he’d made the choice not to tell her he was a cop. There was no going back now.
Laud’s hand slid like a snake across Ginny’s shoulders, and Rick wanted to hurtle across the boards, rip her away from his grasp, sink his fist into Laud’s pretty face, and scream the truth—the man killed people. People like Tom, and that old woman, trapped in her wheelchair as smoke ate the breath from her lungs.
Instead, Rick shoved his fists into his coat pockets and hobbled toward them trying to conceal the pain still crushing his ribs. If only his partner hadn’t run back into the burning building, he’d still be alive.
Rick shook the image from his mind. Given the trail of dummy companies and insurance claims he’d unearthed following Tom’s death, Rick had no doubt that Laud torched his real estate for the insurance money, but Ginny would never believe his story. Her uncle had done too good a job covering his tracks by playing the town philanthropist, while in Ginny’s eyes, Rick was nothing more than something she’d scrape off her shoes.
He’d let her keep that misconception, too, because once again, he had a job to finish. A job she could jeopardize if she knew what he really was—an undercover cop who wanted to dump her uncle in the dankest, darkest, dirtiest prison cell the province had to offer.
Ginny turned, and for an instant, Rick forgot his mission as he drank in the flush of her cheek. The sparkle in her eyes. The ever-present smile.
He took a second to enjoy the fact she still looked wonderful, uncontaminated by the scum he crossed paths with on a regular basis. The scum he’d wanted to protect her from. Yes, he’d made the right choice when he let her walk away believing he was a lying lowlife.
He’d been fooling himself to think he could shield her from the danger of his profession. While out at dinner with Ginny, he hadn’t been wearing the acid-washed jeans and tattooed jacket that flagged him as a fellow gang member, but that hadn’t stopped Snake from recognizing him. And if the thought of what Snake might do to her if he’d figured out Rick was a cop hadn’t convinced him to let Ginny walk away, her horrified who-are-you expression would have.
Ginny blinked once and then again more deliberately.
He’d forgotten how strikingly green her eyes were, like a forest he could get lost in for hours. Only now they seemed to be measuring him and finding him wanting. Her smile wilted, and just once, he wished he could see trust in those eyes again, but Laud’s next words obliterated that hope.
“Duke, this is my niece, Ginny Bryson. Ginny, meet my foreman, Duke Black.”
Ginny’s gaze snapped to her uncle, then locked on Rick. “Duke?” she said, and then clearly struggling over how to respond, repeated stupidly, “Duke?”
The memory of her parting words—you lied to me—knifed through his thoughts. All these months later, nothing had changed.
Rick thrust out his hand, and put as much enthusiasm into his voice as he could muster with black clouds looming overhead. “Good morning, Miss Bryson. I look forward to working with you.” He held his breath, praying she would play the game.
Her hand met his easily. Too easily.
He’d forgotten how delicate her fingers felt, and soft against his work-worn palm.
“I used to know a guy …” she said slowly, as though savoring each word. “He looked a lot like … you.”
“Really?” He struggled to sound unfazed even as the specter of a saboteur targeting Ginny strangled his breath. “I get that a lot.”
Ginny pulled her hand back and folded her arms over her chest. “Yeah, his name was Rick.”
* * *
Shivers of frustration and anger played havoc with Ginny’s insides as Rick, or Duke, or whatever he called himself these days, darted a glance at Uncle Emile. This project was too important to her to put at risk. Why should she care if Rick got into trouble?
She should’ve blurted the truth about his alias on the spot, not let his pleading eyes win her sympathy. How dare he put her in this position? It’s Uncle Emile—deceived by Rick’s lies—that she should be worried for. When she dropped Duke’s real name, her uncle had been too distracted by the sudden arrival of his secretary to hear. But the beads of moisture on Rick’s forehead didn’t look like raindrops.
Good. Maybe he’d do the smart thing and quit before she really blew the whistle on him.
Uncle Emile’s secretary handed him a file folder through her car window, said a few words and then drove off.
Tucking the folder under his arm, Uncle Emile returned to Ginny’s side. “I have to go. Duke, I’ll leave you to discuss that other matter with my niece.”
A light that said, with pleasure, glimmered in Rick’s eyes.
Ginny grabbed her uncle’s arm. “There is no way I’m working with him.”
Her uncle gave Rick-slash-Duke an once-over, while Rick had the gall to just stand there—the picture of innocence. “He looks a little rough, but you’ll like him once you get to know him.”
Rough? Her uncle should’ve seen Rick with his head shaved. This new soldier-like buzz cut made him look almost decent.
But she knew better than to trust appearances. She’d give him one more chance to bow out, and if he was too cocky to take it, he’d be sorry.
Uncle Emile paused at the door of his BMW. “It’s not as if the two of you will work together that closely. But for today, Duke’s your man. He’ll answer all your questions.”
Oh, she doubted that.
As soon as Uncle Emile drove away, she turned on Rick. “What are you doing here?”
His steel-blue eyes searched hers, slowly, thoroughly. “It’s good to see you again, Ginny.”
Her name toppled from his lips with a huskiness that made her skin tingle. Long buried feelings resurfaced, more fervent than ever. She dug her fingernails into her palms and fought to escape the emotional ambush.
In the distance, thunder rumbled, low and ominous.
“Do you seriously think I’ll fall for your smooth talk a second time?” Her mind reeled back to the day they’d met. From the moment she’d seen him across the gym, those magnetic eyes had compelled her to look past the intimidating bald-guy appearance to the man inside. But his patient coaching of the special-needs kids had won her heart.
His gaze dropped to the ground. “I never meant to hurt you.”
Right. Like after dating for two months, his easy camaraderie with the leering gang member who’d spotted them outside a restaurant in Hamilton shouldn’t have upset her. She could still remember how the creep’s tongue made a slow circuit around his lips, and then flicked out of his mouth like the tongue of the snake tattooed on his arm. And Rick’s “Hey bro!” followed by his nervous glance at her. And the near-total transformation from the security guard he’d claimed to be, into the gang member he clearly was.
Oh yeah, he’d been into security all right—how to bypass it. She hadn’t needed to hang around and listen to the rest of Snake Man’s loosely veiled robbery scheme to figure that out. Or to figure out that Rick wasn’t the God-fearing man he’d let her believe.
She’d ended the relationship on the spot, almost changed her phone number, even contemplated moving, but she hadn’t needed to bother. He didn’t attempt to defend himself, let alone try to see her again.
“How’s Lori doing? Still playing basketball?” he asked now, and the warmth in his tone stole Ginny’s thunder.
He’d always been kind to her mentally-challenged sister. Part of her longed to know that Rick again. But she’d never really known him, had she?
“Stop answering my questions with questions. I don’t know why you lied to my uncle about who you are, but I expect you to resign immediately.” She’d promised she’d see this group home finished and she wasn’t about to let Lori, or their dying mother down by inviting trouble.
Rick’s gaze darted to the newest spray-painted threat. “Since when do you fundraise for building projects? You told me you wrote Web copy.”
The irritation in Rick’s voice scraped away any vestige of hope that the man Ginny once loved had been real. “How dare you make me sound like the one pretending to be someone I’m not? If you don’t quit, I will tell my uncle you’re an imposter.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Oh? And what am I thinking, Rick? Is Rick even your real name? I have no idea who you are. How can you know what I’m thinking?”
Rick glanced down at the hard hat he twisted in his hands. “All I’m asking is for a chance to start over. I really need this job.”
“Yeah, a guy who switches identities every year would. And lying about who you are—that’s a great way to start over.” She straightened her shoulders. “I don’t know who you expected to see out here today, but from the shocked look on your face, I’m certain it wasn’t me. So don’t feed me any more lines about starting over. I need a man who knows right from wrong. A man without any shadows in his life. A man like my Uncle Emile. Someone honorable.”
If not for the flinch in Rick’s cheek, his face might’ve been carved from stone—kind of like his heart. Except not even the gray drizzle that streamed unchecked down those angular planes could douse the fire in his eyes.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see how this project is coming along.”
Rick blocked her path like a giant beware sign in his yellow rain slicker, arms akimbo. “It’s too dangerous for you to wander around out here.”
Ginny pushed past him, but at the sight of sheared floor joists spearing into the basement her retort lodged in her throat. “What happened?”
“Someone cut through the timbers.”
“I can see that. But why?”
“I don’t know. And until I do, I don’t want you around here or getting your name and picture in the papers. You could get hurt.”
“Are you nuts? We need to call the police.”
“You don’t want to do that.”
“Why?” She tore her gaze from the splintered floor and glared at him. “Are you afraid the police will pin this on you?”
“Will you forget about our past for one minute and listen? If you bring the police out here, sirens blaring, the press will be on this faster than vultures on roadkill. Is that the kind of publicity you want?”
Her chest deflated. No, definitely not. “Who would do this?”
“It could be anyone. Emile thinks it’s the protestors, but a businessman like your uncle has undoubtedly amassed a number of enemies.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“We have to consider all the possibilities.”
“We?” Ginny planted her hands on her hips. “You’re quitting, remember? I will look into this myself.”
Rick reached out, but then let his hand drop just shy of grazing her cheek and took a step back. “I hurt you, and for that I am sorrier than you could possibly know, but falling through those boards this morning could have killed me. These people don’t care who they hurt.”
She gasped, noticing for the first time the crack in his helmet, the mud smeared on his jacket.
“I couldn’t bear it if something like that happened to you. Let me talk with the police quietly and help them figure out who did this.”
The tenderness of his offer stirred more feelings than she wanted to remember. But for all she knew this booby trap had been set by one of his gang buddies. Even if this alias thing was entirely innocent, he’d still lied. She fisted her trembling hands. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you can take yourself off my project, or I can have you fired. You decide.”
Ever wish you could read more about a couple after the book ends. Well…as a Christmas gift to my readers, I’ve written a short novella about Rick and Ginny’s first Christmas.
If you’d like to read this story, please subscribe to my newsletter to receive the exclusive link to the story. For those with Ereaders, I will email the pdf upon request.
Suzanne Hartmann of Write This Way blog interviewed Emile Laud on Sept 26, 2011
Visiting with us today is Emile Laud a character from Sandra Orchard’s debut novel Deep Cover. To help you better follow my interview with Emile, allow me to first share a brief description of the other main characters.
Rick Gray (aka Duke Black) ~ Undercover cop working as a construction foreman on Emile Laud’s newest development—a group home for his mentally-challenged niece
Ginny Bryson ~ A web copywriter and the PR person for her Uncle Emile’s construction project. When not trying to raise funds for the project, or writing copy for her uncle or other clients, she cares for her dying mother and coaches a T-ball team of special needs players, including her sister.
Lori Bryson ~ Ginny’s eighteen year old sister who has a mental age of three to four and works in a supervised work placement during the day.
Suzanne: Your foreman Rick Gray, uh, I mean Duke, would have us believe you’re the villain of this story so I thought it only fair to give you a chance to defend yourself against these accusations. Could you tell us a little bit about yourself?
Emile: I’d be happy to. I appreciate you having me here. I honestly have no idea why Duke would think such a thing of me, especially after I gave him a job. I’m a developer. I’ve done quite well over the years. I left Miller’s Bay almost twenty years ago, following the tragic death of my wife in a house fire. I simply couldn’t bear the reminders the town held of our happy years together. But I returned a few months back to re-establish my business in the community and to give back to the town that helped launch my career by building a group home for special needs adults.
Suzanne: Tell us a little more about the group home you’re building.
Emile: Foremost, the home is for my niece Lori. With her mother dying, it’s the least I can do to ensure she has a stable home in the future.
Suzanne: Tell us what your niece Ginny is doing to help with the group home.
Emile: Her assistance has been invaluable. Thanks to her tenacious fundraising efforts and government lobbying, grants and donations toward the construction are pouring in. She is such a lovely girl, always helpful, never questions my decisions. I try to help her out however I can. She has a lot on her plate holding the family together. Her mother, my dear departed wife’s sister, was an alcoholic you know. She’s quit now, they say. I suppose with the cancer making her so sick, she had no choice.
Suzanne: Oh, I didn’t know that. No wonder Ginny thinks the world of you. In fact, most people in Miller’s Bay seem to think highly of you. Why is that?
Emile: Why because money talks my dear. Show compassion to the less fortunate, donate to a worthy cause, build a home for the needy, and everyone thinks you’re honorable. If only the insurance company was so easily persuaded. If they paid the settlement on the townhouse fire instead of dragging on a fruitless investigation, I’d be able to move forward with construction much more quickly.
Suzanne: I’ve noticed you always dress in expensive three-piece suits and eat at the best restaurants and even own a yacht. Appearances seem very important to you. Why is that?
Emile: I was poor once. Bullied by kids at school. Mocked for my secondhand clothes. Ignored by the girls. I never intend to go back to that life.
Suzanne: I see. And why doesn’t Ginny’s mother, your sister-in-law, like you?
Emile: She blames me for her sister’s death I’m afraid. It’s understandable. I blame myself. If I’d been there that night instead of working late at the office, I might’ve been able to save her.
Suzanne: What evidence does Ri—uh Duke have to make him suspect that you torch some of your buildings to collect the insurance money?
Emile: Come now, you look like a woman of the world. You know how these rumors get started. I was working late the night my wife died. And yes, so was my secretary. But that didn’t mean I was having an affair. And yes, perhaps my business endeavors have been victimized by arson attacks more than most. But any evidence he believes he has is pure conjecture I’m sure.
Suzanne: What threats are being leveled at Ginny?
Emile: < squirms, looking suddenly uncomfortable> There have been…shall we say, incidents. One nasty note she received said I know. And one way or the other, HE WILL PAY. Obviously, I’m concerned for her. Although it has occurred to me that Duke, not I, is the “he” to whom the note refers.
Suzanne: But—
Emile: I admit that a man doesn’t get to my position without creating a few enemies. That’s why I asked Duke to use his criminal connections to try to find out who’s behind the attacks on my dear niece and put a stop to them. Now, I ask you, if I were trying to hurt my niece, why would I ask Duke to protect her?
Suzanne: Hmm, good question. I guess I’ll have to read Deep Cover to find out who’s really telling the truth.
This interview of heroine, Ginny Bryson, first aired on Noelle Marchand’s blog Character Confidentials on November 16, 2011
Ok. Give me the scoop on Rick Gray. I heard he’s back in town. You two have a history together, don’t you?
Yes, we met at a community center where we were both working with special needs kids. I was a little intimidated at first by his tough-bald-guy appearance, but he had the most magnetic blue eyes and was so patient with the kids. He told me he was a security guard and a believer, and I fell for him fast and hard. Unlike other guys I’ve dated, he wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable around my mom and sister. He was so great with my sister. One time, she baked him a cake and ran out of whipped cream. Not knowing any better, she finished decorating the cake with shaving cream. But he ate it!
Then the night he took me to the city for a special dinner, I saw his double life up close and personal when a gang member that he was obviously friends with buddied up to him and started plotting a robbery. Rick completely transformed right in front of me. He didn’t even try to stop me from leaving or call later to explain.
Hmm. Well, do you think he’s changed any since then?
I don’t know what to think. He says he has and I want to believe him. I really do. But he’s not even using his real name. I’m not even sure what his real name is. He says he was trying to sell the gang out and didn’t want me caught in the crossfire. But he never called in all those months. Lori cried for weeks after he left. I can’t let him hurt us like that again.
What was it like to see him for the first time in fifteen months?
Oh. It was so hard. The warmth in his voice… And one look in those eyes… I had to fight against everything in me not to fall for his lines again.
It sounds to me like the old flame hasn’t entirely died out yet. Is there a particular characteristic of his that you’re really drawn to?
He looks at my like I’m the most precious thing on earth and he’s so protective. Most of my life, I’ve been the one doing the protecting.
So what is keeping you apart?
How can I trust him? As safe as I feel curled in his arms, I know he’s keeping something from me. Something very important. If we can’t build our relationship on honesty and trust, I can’t do it. I just can’t.
Let’s change the subject a bit. I hear you’re doing some PR for your uncle Emile Laud. Why don’t you tell me about your latest projects for him?
My uncle is a developer and I write web copy, brochures and other advertisements for him. But my work for the group home is volunteer. It’s the least I can do with all my uncle’s doing to get it built.
I’ve heard some mixed opinions about your uncle and his business practices. What do you think of him?
He’s the most honorable, kind-hearted man I know. He’s invested a lot in this group home out of the goodness of his heart. He’s always been there for me.
Tell me about the rest of your family. You have a sister and a mother, right? What is life like with them?
I love them with all my heart. My sister has such a sweet temperament. She always makes me smile. My relationship with my mom is a little complicated. For years I felt like I was the mom as she battled alcohol addiction after my dad died. But the Lord changed her heart and she hasn’t drunk in a long time, although since she was diagnosed with cancer, sometimes I wonder.
Lori is the main reason your uncle is building a group home. There have been some strange things happening during its construction. I’ve even heard something about a saboteur. What do you think of that? Is there any more information you can give me?
My uncle thinks it’s the locals who don’t want people like my sister living next door. Rick thinks my uncle’s business rivals are behind it, but that doesn’t make any sense. This development isn’t taking business away from anyone else. My uncle doesn’t stand to make a dime on it. I’m worried that some of Rick’s enemies have followed him here and want to make trouble.
Rick works at the construction site so I bet it seems like you can’t get away from him. What do you think his role is in all of this?
I’m not sure I understand what you mean. He’s the foreman for the project. He claims that he’s trying to start over and really needs the job. Why he had to take a job with my uncle of all people I don’t know. But as difficult as it is to see him so often, I can’t think of anyone who would work harder to make this place happen for Lori.
From the outside looking in, it certainly seems like God is working on something in your life. Is there something he’s been dealing with you about lately?
Yeah, I think he probably is. Ever since Rick came back, my mom and sister have welcomed him with open arms without any consequence for how much he hurt us. I guess I resent that. If I were honest, I’d have to admit that I battle bouts of resentment when my mom treats me like a three-year-old when I’m the one who has taken care of us most of my life. Probably after years of being lied to, I’m a little quick to judge. Appearances aren’t always what they seem.
Is there anything else I should know?
I really just want Mom to love me. When she criticizes me, I try not to lash out, not that I don’t think it. But deep down I just want to be loved.
1. Rick, tell me the most interesting thing about you.
I’m an undercover cop. I’ve worked a lot of different cases, some in which the paperwork took longer to do than the actual operation, and some, like my current case, that require me to become another person for weeks at a time. At the moment, I’m posing as a foreman on a construction project to gather evidence against the developer who torches buildings for the insurance money. Unfortunately, he’s also the uncle of a woman I care about, and the construction project is a group home for her mentally challenged sister.
2. What do you do for fun?
I shoot hoops with my fellow police officers. We work hard and then play hard. It helps relieve the stress of the job.
3. What do you put off doing because you dread it?
I don’t usually put off anything I’m at liberty to do. Telling Ginny who and what I really am is the one exception. For her own protection, fifteen months ago, I let Ginny walk out of my life believing I was the gang member I appeared to be. When that case was over, I could’ve told her the truth, and tried to win her back, but I convinced myself she was better off without me. I wish I could say the same for myself.
4. What are you afraid of most in life?
I have a dangerous job. I make enemies. That’s one of the reasons I tend to avoid relationships. I’m afraid someone close to me will be killed because of my work.
5. What do you want out of life?
I want to get criminals off the street. As my dad lay dying at the hand of a criminal he’d been scheduled to testify against, I made him a promise that I wouldn’t let the bad guys win. For that reason, and another that I’d rather not talk about, justice is really important to me. Let’s just say I owe it to my family to do everything I can to keep criminals off the street.
That said, when I’m not working I enjoy coaching kids’ sports teams at the local community center, trying to help them find something better than crime to invest their time in. It was enough, until I met Ginny. Now…I want the whole wife and kids and white picket fence thing. But it’s just not meant to be.
6. What is the most important thing to you?
Lies are part of my job. A character I play, like an actor. But sometimes to safeguard my cover for the sake of my case, I have to pretend I’m something I’m not to people I’ve grown to care about. It’s important to me that when they learn the truth, they see I’m a man of honor. I’m probably the only man alive who embraces the scripture verse, “There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known.” I long for the day that I can disclose my true life to Ginny. The day she’ll finally understand I work for a greater good. The day she’ll know I’m honorable.
7. Do you read books? If so, what is your favorite type of book?
I read my Bible most days, but other than that, I don’t read much.
8. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
If I could walk away from my job, I would. But I can’t. And Ginny deserves a better life than I can give her.
9. Do you have a pet? If so, what is it and why that pet?
No, as an undercover cop, my schedule is too unpredictable to allow me to care for an animal. I have a fish tank screensaver on my laptop. Does that count?
10. If you could travel back in time, where would you go and why?
I’d go to the backyard of my parents’ house—the day my older brother died. And I’d stay there, just as I’d been told. Remembering that day still rips through me as viciously as the bullets that ripped through my brother. I’d been too young to understand that gang members get a kick out of daring probies to take pot shots at a cop’s house. If I’d obeyed my parents and stayed in the back yard, Bobby never would’ve chased after me to keep me off the road…and run straight into the spray of gang bullets.
This quick and tasty chili recipe is a family favorite on a cold winter’s day. It’s also the recipe that my hero in Deep Cover makes for the heroine’s young sister.
Ingredients:
· 1 pint (500 ml) sweet chili sauce (see below *)
· 1 lb (500 g) ground beef
· 1 onion
· 1 jar of spicy spaghetti sauce
· 2-3 tins of baked beans (or kidney beans)
· 1 tbsp (15 ml) chili pepper (or to taste)
· salt and pepper to taste
Instructions:
Brown onion and ground beef in the bottom of a large pot. Pour off excess fat. Stir in all the other ingredients and simmer for 20 minutes. Serve over mashed potatoes or with tea biscuits.
*Homemade sweet chili sauce [makes 4 1/2 quarts (4 liters)]
12 large tomatoes 2 large onions
4 green peppers 4 apples
1 stalk celery 4 ½ c brown sugar (1.125 L)
1 tbsp salt (15 ml) 1 tsp dry mustard (5 ml)
½ tsp black pepper (2.5 ml) ½ tsp cayenne pepper (2.5 ml)
Skin tomatoes using boiling water. Mash tomatoes and chop all ingredients. Combine in pot with spices and vinegar. Simmer 1-2 hours. Put in sterilized jars and seal with heated lids.
Here’s a fun clip from the story in which Rick has just offered to make supper for the heroine’s sister, Lori, and asked what she’d like…
Lori pulled a tin of beans from the cupboard. “Like chili.”
He laughed—a laugh filled with memories of weekends in the kitchen with Ginny concocting outrageous combinations of food, but none as peculiar as the birthday cake Lori had made for him. When the bottle of whipped cream she’d been using to ice his cake had run dry, she’d thought the picture on the aerosol tin in her mom’s bathroom looked like the same stuff. He worked his mouth, still able to taste the lemony-scented shaving cream. “Okay, chili it is.”
If you love recipes…
You can get this book free with my special coupon code.
A collaborative recipe Ebook bringing your favorite Christian authors and their favorite foods together.
Sixty-five Christian fiction authors have come together in this first-of-its-kind e-book, sharing more than 120 recipes that connect to their books or their characters.
The book retails for $2.99, but use the special coupon code, SandraOrchard, to download the book for free!!
Enter my coupon code in the bottom left hand corner and click apply. The book will then show a zero balance owing, and you can proceed to checkout.
Just so you know what to expect…
You will be asked for your name, email address and phone number. You can simply put your first name and n/a for phone number, but ensure you type your email address accurately as your receipt and download link will be emailed to you.
The receipt will appear in your inbox almost immediately, but I found that the email with the download link was delayed by a couple of hours. Rest assured that it will come. You may want to check your spam file if you don’t see it after a few hours. The book itself is a 55.6 MB color pdf file so if you’re not on highspeed, it could take a while to download.
Novel Morsels is also available for 99 cents on Kindle and Nook with limited pictures due to file size.
Did you know that you can download free software called Calibre that will convert pdf files to files better suited to your particular Ereader? I use it to convert my pdf files to mobi files for Kindle, and it works great.
And you can download this free International Cookbook
Written by authors of Christian fiction representing a variety of rich cultural traditions from Canada to the UK to Tasmania to Brazil to Mozambique, its goal is to promote international Christian fiction.
Travel with us around the world as we sample delicacies that uniquely represent our home countries or the settings of our books.
Try our exciting selection of entrées, sides, mains, desserts and snacks:
• Peanut soup from Bolivia.
• Chicken croquettes from Brazil.
• Cornbread from Tennessee, USA.
• Cranberry salad from Australia.
• Bobotie and Cape Lamb Pie from South Africa.
• Mennonite stew from Canada.
• Passionfruit and coconut cake from Mozambique.
• Pavlova from New Zealand.
• Scones from England.
Editor’s Cut with commentary: Since my editor made only minor changes to my manuscript, I’ll share an example of how one of my pre-contract critiquers, Wenda Dottridge, helped me strengthen the first villain scene.
The original version was suspenseful. It showed Laud impatient with incompetent staff, nervous about the suspicious character watching his place, and angry that the insurance company hadn’t paid out yet on his arson claim. It showed him receiving info from the PI he hired to investigate the hero, and ended with innuendoes of sinister plans.
The problem was that Laud’s depiction verged on a mustache-twirling caricature.
Wenda reminded me that I needed to give him a redeeming quality. We brainstormed ideas and found that by sprinkling in hints that Laud wasn’t as bad as I was making him out to be, I could up the stakes and urgency even more without going over the top.
Here’s a snippet of what we came up with:
As the please wait circle swirled on his computer screen, Laud fed Duke’s resignation letter to the shredder. The man might be just the distraction he needed to preoccupy his niece, and her meddling mother, until his plans fell into place. He should’ve silenced his sister-in-law when he had the chance.
His banking info blipped onto the computer screen. A lousy three grand in the account—not enough to cover a week’s interest on the three million he owed Petroski, let alone a month’s.
The heat in his chest intensified.
He rubbed his knuckles over his ribs and popped another antacid.
Lori smiled at him from the hand-drawn picture on the corner of his desk. The sloppy scrawl looked like a three-year-old colored it, all big heads and stick arms outlined in worn-down Crayolas.
His insides twisted.
The latest blackmail note lay, unopened on his desk.
Popping a second antacid into his mouth, he tore open the envelope. Bold-faced letters, cut and pasted from a newspaper, said: You’ll pay. One way or another, you’ll pay.
The scene goes on to show Laud struggling to overcome a panic attack and telling himself that he can’t afford to give into weakness. So instead of the scene just being about his concern over the apparent loan shark goon outside and his financial woes and his investigation of the hero, I added an additional threat againsthim.
This raises all kinds of questions for the reader as to who is really the bad guy.
The rewrite also reveals one of Laud’s redeeming qualities—his soft spot for Lori, his eighteen-year-old, mentally-challenged niece.
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