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The sixth season of THE THRILLER FICTION PODCAST!
Want to know more? Make sure you visit www.jimheskett.com and poke around to learn all about the author, the show, and the secrets of the universe.
TFP605: Story #5
Season 6 · Episode 605
Tuesday, February 4, 2020 • Duration 11:40
The sixth season of THE THRILLER FICTION PODCAST!
Want to know more? Make sure you visit www.jimheskett.com and poke around to learn all about the author, the show, and the secrets of the universe.
TFP604: Story #4
Season 6 · Episode 604
Tuesday, January 28, 2020 • Duration 14:29
The sixth season of THE THRILLER FICTION PODCAST!
Want to know more? Make sure you visit www.jimheskett.com and poke around to learn all about the author, the show, and the secrets of the universe.
TFP603: Story #3
Season 6 · Episode 603
Tuesday, January 21, 2020 • Duration 09:02
The sixth season of THE THRILLER FICTION PODCAST!
Want to know more? Make sure you visit www.jimheskett.com and poke around to learn all about the author, the show, and the secrets of the universe.
TFP602: Story #2
Season 6 · Episode 602
Tuesday, January 14, 2020 • Duration 12:29
The sixth season of THE THRILLER FICTION PODCAST!
Want to know more? Make sure you visit www.jimheskett.com and poke around to learn all about the author, the show, and the secrets of the universe.
TFP601: Story #1
Season 6 · Episode 601
Tuesday, January 7, 2020 • Duration 10:26
The sixth season of THE THRILLER FICTION PODCAST!
Want to know more? Make sure you visit www.jimheskett.com and poke around to learn all about the author, the show, and the secrets of the universe.
TFP600: Season Six Intro
Season 6 · Episode 600
Wednesday, January 1, 2020 • Duration 05:33
The sixth season of THE THRILLER FICTION PODCAST!
We're back, this time reading all five of the LAYNE PARRISH RESTAURANT STORIES
Want to know more? Make sure you visit www.jimheskett.com and poke around to learn all about the author, the show, and the secrets of the universe.
TFP506: The Journey So Far…
Season 5 · Episode 506
Friday, October 11, 2019 • Duration 08:10
Visit jimheskett.com/seasonfive for podcast episode show notes.
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The fifth season of THE THRILLER FICTION PODCAST is nigh behind us! Let's chat about what's came before and what it's all about.
Want to know more? Make sure you visit www.jimheskett.com and poke around to learn all about the author, the show, and the secrets of the universe.
TFP505: Knife Point – Layne Parrish Behind The Scenes
Season 5 · Episode 505
Thursday, October 3, 2019 • Duration 19:48
Visit jimheskett.com/seasonfive for podcast episode show notes.
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Want the inside scoop on each Layne Parrish novel, including info on how it was created and the inspiration for each story?
Want to read the first chapter? You're in luck!
Layne Parrish sipped an Imperial Stout while his daughter Cameron unleashed a fierce attack on the page with a blue crayon. She colored a helicopter with wanton disregard for the lines. Blue everywhere. The blades, the cockpit, the landing skids.
Layne had tried to help guide her aim, but she didn’t seem interested. At four years old, staying inside the lines was a little beyond her grasp. In the end, what did it matter? There would be time to color inside the lines later. Carpe diem.
Across the table from them at Sunshine Brewing Company in Redding, California, Inessa Parrish sat. Actually, not so much sat as perched on her chair with a scowl on her face. Of the three Parrishes at the table, Inessa seemed to be the only one not having a good time.
She had the same last name as Layne, but she was not currently related. His ex-wife. She was long and tall, with high cheekbones and sharp blonde hair. Almost as sharp as her Russian accent. It had been years since she’d bothered to soften the edge of her voice when speaking to Layne, but that was to be expected.
“Cameron, eat your chicken fingers,” Inessa said.
“I wanna save it for later,” Cam said, not looking up at her mother. Inessa’s scowl deepened, and Layne decided not to get involved. He remembered hearing the “starving children in Africa” line from his mother many times in his youth, and it had never made sense to him back then. What did eating all his peas and carrots have to do with downtrodden kids in Africa?
He was a third wheel on this trip away from Colorado, anyway. Same hotel, different room, taking care of Cam during the days while Inessa would work. She was in town to do a few woodsy photo shoots for a clothing line, and Layne had tagged along since he had nothing better to do.
At least, that was the reason he’d given Inessa for tagging along. He did have an ulterior motive to visit Redding he hadn’t shared with her. The timing had worked out perfectly since he’d intended to come here anyway for a couple years now.
“New ink?” Inessa asked, her eyes focusing on a particular section of the tattoos blanketing his arms from wrist to shoulder.
Layne shook his head. “Not for a while, now. Same ones.”
Most of their conversations were like this. Short, strained, not ending well. That was fine with Layne because he wasn’t here to spend time with Inessa or do any sort of work to repair their relationship. Only Cam. Everything was for Cam.
When they’d arrived a couple days ago, Inessa had brought up that age-old topic of how Layne could afford to go gallivanting around the country and not have to work. After all, he was retired, not only from a particular nameless government agency but also retired from his post-retirement security consulting business. Double retired from two jobs not known for being lucrative. Inessa had brought it up, and Layne had once again opted not to answer her questions. Since then, they’d said maybe thirty words to each other.
He drained the rest of his beer and stood, not able to reach his full 6’4” due to the low-hanging light fixture thing above the table.
“Daddy, where are you going?”
“Potty,” he said, brushing his daughter’s blonde hair out of her eyes. “Maybe you can finish the helicopter and we can both color the dolphin on the next page together when I get back.”
She pursed her lips in consideration and then nodded her consent. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and scooted out from the chair. The Sunshine Brewing Company was a huge, open room, with enormous ceilings and wood everywhere. Like many restaurants in the area, bear-related paraphernalia decorated the walls. The touristy places seemed to portray a wilderness-soaked vision of Northern California.
TFP504: Snake Bite – Layne Parrish Behind The Scenes
Season 5 · Episode 504
Friday, September 27, 2019 • Duration 18:13
Visit jimheskett.com/seasonfive for podcast episode show notes.
__________
Want the inside scoop on each Layne Parrish novel, including info on how it was created and the inspiration for each story?
Want to read the first chapter? You're in luck!
Harry Boukadakis gasped for air. Strong hands pushed him along what he assumed was a hallway. He had to assume, because the bag over his head prevented him from seeing anything. One foot in front of the other, barely able to keep pace with the person or persons forcing him to some unknown destination.
He’d been able to gather a few pieces of intel about his current situation, though. They had snatched him last night, right after leaving his weekly Dungeons and Dragons tabletop gaming session with Ethan and Danny. The last time he would see his friends for more than a week before embarking on his planned vacation.
Harry had felt a pinch in his thigh walking out to his car, then a sudden and severe feeling of heat. Flushed, like pins and needles. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he lost control. He remembered the sensation of his legs crumpling, then blackness.
When he awoke, he’d been bound, gagged, and walking up stairs. Short stairs. Eyes too bleary and head too foggy to make anything out. The thrum of airplane engines had filled his ears. That led to an involuntary trip on an airplane, where he had been secured to a seat the entire time. Hard to say how long, exactly. Maybe four hours. The bag had been over his head for the duration, even when they had escorted him to the bathroom mid-flight.
Four hours was enough time to travel from Virginia to any number of destinations.
When he deboarded the airplane, though, he had a better sense of location. The dry air told him desert. Possibly. New Mexico, Arizona, maybe Utah. And then, a far off voice from a loudspeaker told him he was in Sedona. As soon as the loudspeaker had sounded, they ushered him along faster. He wasn’t supposed to know.
Then, a forced ride in a car, and now shuffling along a hallway. Until this point, his captors had not said a single word to him. They pushed him to his right and then turned him around. Rough hands shoved him down, and Harry felt the hard wood of a chair connect with his butt. A splash of pain worked up his back.
The bag whipped off. His eyes slammed shut from the sudden appearance of light. In a couple of seconds, he creaked them open, slowly letting them adjust. Chest heaving, feeling the weight of his belly push against his arms, still restrained.
“Good morning, Harry,” said a musical male voice.
He blinked a few more times until he could open his eyes all the way. He found himself in a bedroom. A single bed, queen-size, with metal piping for a headboard. Nightstands on either side, no clock or lamps. A small bathroom in a side room near the bed. There was a dresser and the chair he was sitting in, and a single piece of art on the walls. A framed print of a sun setting between two red rock spires.
His hands were cuffed together. Red welts covered his wrists. He didn’t remember trying to resist and pull free from the cuffs, but he had, apparently.
“How was your trip?” said the man. There were two of them. One, younger than Harry, maybe mid-thirties. He stood back near the door. Tall, white, a wiry frame with jet black hair and emerald eyes. A wicked sunburn had turned his light skin pink. Cheeks gaunt and hints of faded acne scars gave him dozens of pocks like dimples. His arms were crossed in front of him, a deep scowl on his face. Harry assumed this was the one who had brought him here.
The other, the speaking man, was older. Fifties, probably. A sharp black suit on his average build. Gray and thinning hair sat atop a wrinkly face, with patchy stubble poking through. Huge hands, though,. Too big for his body. This man had kind brown eyes and a warm smile.
He also held a copy of The New York Times in his hands, rolled into a tube.
