The Road to Justice/Sins of the Son combo pack - A John Fowler Novel (John Fowler (Books 1 & 2))

The Road to Justice

Sins of the Son

This Thing of Ours (Coming Summer 2013)

To Mom and Dad (George):  Thank you for raising me to believe in myself and
teaching me
that I can do anything I put my mind to.

To Chelle and LouLou:  Thank you. Thank you for believing in me and encouraging me at every opportunity. 

To my Great-Uncle Bill
(who is no longer with us):  Almost 30 years ago, you gave me a collection of works by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and introduced me to the world’s greatest detective.  Thank you for believing in a young boy and his love for reading.

To Bobbi
:  Every time I was stuck, had a question, needed advice, something proofread
(I honestly believe you saw every version of every query letter I sent to agents), or just a kind word, you helped me out.  I cannot thank you enough for all the help you have been.

To
Tonya:  Each time I was ready to quit on this project you
seemed
to magica
lly know I needed encouragement.  T
hank you from the bottom of my heart.

To Mr. Rogers:  You saved me on technicalities more than once, and for that, you have my heartfelt gratitude.  Thank you.

To Mr. George:  You’ve been my rock through this whole thing.  I don’t say it often, but as
far as
I’m concerned you and Mr. Wilhelm
are
the brothers I never had.  Thank you.

To Mr. Wilhelm:  Thank you.  Fourteen years ago, you encouraged me to write fantasy wrestling.  You wrote your organization and I wrote mine.  You pushed me to tap into
my creative side.  This book would never have been
possible
without you.  As I said to Mr. George, you’re the brother I never had.  Thank you.

To Lester and Rhonda:  Thank you for supporting me and believing in me.  I can honestly tell you without all of your support this never would have happened.

To all of those who have supported me financially:  Thank you.  Without your help, LouLou Productions LLC never would have formed, and there never would have been a physical copy of my work.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Thank you to Ahmad, Amy, Amy, Carrie, Clint, Elizabeth, Leigh Ann, Linda, Nancy, Rob, Susan, and Steve.  Thank you for critiquing my work and helping me stay on track.  Without all of you, this never would have happened.

Finally to you
, the
reader:  Thank you for picking up a novel from an unknown author and giving me a chance.  I hope you enjoy the story I am about to share with you.

To my two girls:  You two have been my rock.  It’s because of you that not only have I written a novel, but now I have written two.  You’ll never know what your love and support means.

To my many test readers and editors:  Thank you for all of your help. 

To you, the reader:  If this is your first time to ent
er the world of John Fowler, the
n sit back and relax
.
I think you’ll have a good time and a few laughs along the way.  If th
is is your second excursion, then you know what you’re in for.  I
can’t th
a
nk you enough for coming back

Chapter 1

Sunlight streamed into the apartment window as John continued to beat on his alarm clock.  As the buzzing continued, John realized it was his phone and not the alarm clock making the horrible racket.  As he focused his eyes on the name flashing on his phone
,
John groaned. 
“
Mommy
”
continued to flash across the face of his phone as John set his feet on the floor and held his head in his hands.  It wasn
’
t his real Mother
,
of course.  His real Mother hadn
’
t spoken to him in three years now
;
which was fine by him.  In fact, John couldn
’
t remember speaking to any of his family since the funeral.  No, thought John, they would speak to me; I just don
’
t want to speak to them
. . .
not since I made that scene at the gravesite after the funeral.

The funeral; it had been three years, and it still seemed like yesterday.  It seemed like just yesterday when his father-in-law cussed him in front of everyone at the gravesite.  It probably didn
’
t help
that
John was three sheets to the wind while his father-in-law was doing it.  It probably didn
’
t help that John had told Arthur, John
’
s father-in-law
,
that he was an interfering waste of human flesh.  It probably didn
’
t help that he told Arthur that John and Sam had never had children, not because of John
’
s job
,
but because Sam didn
’
t want Arthur
’
s interfering nose in the child
’
s life.  It sure didn
’
t help that Arthur was right about John. 
If John hadn
’
t
been drinking.
  If
. . .
 
John
’
s thoughts were interrupted by the phone buzzing again.

John stood up and stretched.  He glanced out the window at the city.  New York.  Sam had wanted to live here. 
“
Where else can you find the arts, the different types of people, the nightlife, and all the other wonders this city held
?
”
she had asked him.  The most e
xciting city in the world
. . .
for Sam
;
f
or John, it was the loneliest city in the world.  John had only one friend here.  Most of John
’
s friends apparently agreed with the words his father-in-law
had spoken.  In fact, except for Chet, none of his friends had spoken to him since the funeral.  That was fine with John.  He didn
’
t need anyone.  No sirree, he was doing just fine on his own. 

“
They say every cloud has a silver lining and the silver lining is
that
I haven
’
t had to listen to your stupidity
,
Arthur
,
since I lost her.  I don
’
t have to listen to your judgments, your foolish ideas, and I don
’
t have to listen to you speak.
”
 
John smiled.  As he glanced over to the picture on his nightstand of himself and the beautiful girl with him, his stomach dropped all over again.  The smile fell from his face. 

“
I know
,
Sam,
”
he said out loud. 
“
It
’
s a lie.  I am not fine.  I
’
m a wreck and I don
’
t know how to go on each day without you.
”
 

             
The phone buzzed again.  John walked out of the bedroom and walked into the kitchen.  He opened the freezer and stared at the bottle of vodka.  The bottle was a reminder
to him of all he had done
. . .
not that he could ever forget.  He had not touched the bottle since the funeral.  If only he hadn
’
t to
uched it before
then
. . .
John had fought the same fight every morning for more than 3 years.  He had been to AA meetings, but he had never spoken.  He left the FBI after the i
ncident.  He looked
where
his PI license
hung
on the wall
and scoffed. 

If you watched TV in the
19
80
’
s, you wou
ld think every other street in every
city had a private investigator on it.  What TV didn
’
t tell you was
the majority of the work included process ser
ving, chasing down debtors, and,
of course, spying on a spouse that someone thinks is cheating.  Oh that was the best.  All of the training John had received at EKU and Quantico wasted.  There was nothing like renting some seedy hotel room and getting some interesting pictures of some not-so beautiful people doing things with
other not-so beautiful people.  John shook his head in disgust of the mental image that had invaded his mind.

With the type of work he did alone, it was a miracle he had been sober over
the last
three years.  The thought of those people just then was enough to drive most sane men to drink.  John barked a laugh at the joke his life and his investigative skills had become.  John stared at the bottle and tears welled up in his eyes. 
“
Blast it Sam! 
I
’
m
. . .
" 
He
was interrupted by a pounding on the door.  John knew who it was without even looking out the peep
hole in the door.  He knew once Chet started in on him
,
there was no stopping him.   He knew that f
or some reason, known only to Chet, it was time for them to talk.  John wiped the tears from his eyes, shut the freezer door, sighed, an
d headed toward
the door. 

The pounding on the door continued. 
“
John!!!  John!!  Are you in there?
! 
I will break down this door
!
  JOHN!!!!!!!!!!!!
”
 
John stared at the door.  He peered through the peep ho
le to see his best friend
. . .
well
,
his only friend.  Chet looked furious
.  John stood there thinking of his options.  It was early. 
Well, it was 2 in the afternoon, but it was early for him.  He hadn
’
t slept much from the PI case he
had just finished working
. . .
and
,
honestly
,
he slept as little as possible for the past three years
to avoid dreaming about Sam.  H
is mind wasn
’
t thinking very clearly
due to the lack of sleep
.  John did not think he was in good enough physical shape to try to climb down the fire escape.  Well, that was a lie.  He was in shape; he just didn
’
t want to exert himself if it wasn
’
t warranted.  While John really didn
’
t want to deal with Chet right that second; to climb down a rusty fire escape, which might collapse in the process, seemed a little extreme.