{"product_id":"opening-moves-isbn-9780451237767","title":"Opening Moves","description":"In The Bowers Files novels, FBI Special Agent Patrick Bowers has stopped some of the most vicious serial killers ever imagined. Now, in the fifth exciting installment, author Steven James takes readers back to Bowers’s terrifying beginning. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMilwaukee, 1997. In a city reeling from the crimes of Jeffrey Dahmer, a series of gruesome kidnappings and mutilations draw authorities into a case like nothing they’ve ever seen. Cops think a Dahmer copycat is on the loose.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut Patrick Bowers, working as a homicide detective, suspects this is more than an ode to the infamous cannibal. When he discovers that the shocking acts reference some of the most notorious and macabre killers in our nation’s history, the investigation spirals into a nightmare of manipulation, brutality, and terror.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWielding groundbreaking investigative techniques, Bowers must now face off with a killer who will stop at nothing to get his message out to the world. Chilling, gritty, and packed with twists and turns, Opening Moves is Steven James’s most heart-pounding novel yet.“[A] master storyteller.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eOpening Moves \u003c\/i\u003eis a mesmerizing read. From the first chapter, it sets its hook deep and drags you through a darkly gripping story with relentless power. My conclusion: I need to read more of Steven James.” —Michael Connelly, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Drop \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“With a multi-dimensional quality, Steven James writes with a confident, assured ease. Just good, old-fashioned, gimmick free storytelling that pushes the envelope to the edge and beyond.” —Steve Berry, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Columbus Affair \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Steven James has created a fast moving thriller with psychological depth and gripping action. \u003ci\u003eOpening Moves \u003c\/i\u003eis a smart, taut, intense novel of suspense that reads like a cross between Michael Connelly and Thomas Harris…\u003ci\u003eOpening Moves \u003c\/i\u003eis a blisteringly fast and riveting read.” —Mark Greaney, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eBallistic \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eSteven James \u003c\/b\u003eis the author of more than thirty books, including the critically acclaimed thrillers \u003ci\u003eThe Pawn\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Rook\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eThe Knight\u003c\/i\u003e. He has a master’s degree in storytelling and has taught writing and creative communication on three continents. When he’s not writing and speaking, you’ll find him trail running, rock climbing, or drinking French roast coffee near his home in eastern Tennessee.\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e1 \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNew Territories Pub \u003cbr\u003e804 South Second Street \u003cbr\u003eMilwaukee, Wisconsin \u003cbr\u003e11:07 p.m.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eVincent Hayes stepped cautiously into the bar, trying un¬successfully to still his heart, to quiet his apprehension.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe’d never done this before, never tried to pick up a man.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs he entered, two patrons who were seated at the bar— Mexican in his mid-twenties and an older Cauca¬sian who looked maybe a few years older than Vincent, around forty-five or so— turned to face him. The younger man had his hand resting gently on the middle-aged gen¬tleman’s knee.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eVincent gave the men a somewhat forced nod, they smiled a bit, then turned to gaze into each other’s eyes again and went back to their conversation— perhaps a joke that the Mexican was telling, because Vincent heard the other man chuckle as he passed by and then took in the rest of the bar.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCountry music played. Nondescript. Some singer he didn’t recognize. The neon beer signs and dim overheads did little to illuminate the nook and crannied pub. Vincent scanned the tables looking for the right kind of man— young, athletic, but not too muscular. The drugs he was carrying were potent, but muscle mass might diminish their effect. Maybe. He wasn’t sure. He’d never used the drugs before, but tonight he couldn’t risk taking the chance that the man would awaken before he was done with him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe was looking for a black man.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAll around him in the dim light, men stood talking. Most were gathered in groups of two or three. Very few single guys. Vincent was brawny and cut an impressive figure that turned a few heads, but none that looked promising.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEven though he wanted to be alert so he wouldn’t make a mistake, he also needed something strong to take the edge off, to help anesthetize his inhibitions. Vincent took a seat at the bar and ordered a vodka.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYes, yes, of course he was nervous. But there was also adrenaline there. Anxiety churning around violently be¬neath the surge of apprehension.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eKeep your cool. This is not a time to make some kind of stupid mistake.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSo far he hadn’t seen anyone who fit the bill. Some were too old. A few younger couples were moving in time to the music on the dance floor on the far side of the bar. No single African-American like he was look¬ing for.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe felt the brush of movement against his arm. A slim white guy who didn’t look old enough to be here legally drew up a barstool. “Waiting for someone?” His voice was melodic and inviting. Charming might be a better word for it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYes, he was the right age, but he was the wrong race. Vincent gave him only a momentary glance. He didn’t want to be rude or draw attention, but he didn’t want to lead him on either.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Um. Yes.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Shame.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eVincent downed half of his vodka.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Lucky guy,” the man said under his breath, but, al¬most certainly on purpose, loud enough for Vincent to hear.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eGet out of here. Try another bar. Already too many peo¬ple have seen you in here. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAlthough it was supposed to happen at this bar, Vin¬cent realized it was more important for it to happen than where it did.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Sorry,” he mumbled. He laid some cash beside his unfinished drink, then stood to leave. He’d taken two steps toward the door when he saw the type of man he was looking for: an athletic African-American, sitting alone in the booth near the narrow hallway to the rest¬rooms.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJust like the young man who’d taken a seat beside Vin¬cent a moment ago, this guy looked on the shy side of twenty-one, but Vincent guessed that carding people wasn’t exactly at the top of the management’s priority list.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe had a beer bottle in front of him, a Lienenkugel’s. Almost empty. Vincent ordered two more from the bar¬tender, excused himself from the guy who’d been com¬ing on to him, and carried the two beers toward the booth.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eJust get him to the minivan. You’re bigger. You can eas¬ily overpower him in there.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs Vincent crossed the room, he surreptitiously dropped the two pills into one of the bottles and gently swirled them to the bottom.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen he was halfway to the booth, the young black man looked his way.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eVincent smiled, then, nervous, dropped his gaze.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eYou can do this; come on, you can do this. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe’d already decided he would cuff him as soon as he got him into the van. Hopefully, he’d be too drugged to fight much or call for help, but Vincent had a gag and duct tape waiting just in case. If he wasn’t able to get him to take off his clothes before he cuffed him, he would strip the guy, cutting off his shirt and jeans with the fabric shears when he was done.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd then move forward with things from there.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAlmost to the booth now, he waited for the man to say something, but when he didn’t, Vincent spoke, trying out the same line the guy had used on him a few mo¬ments earlier. “Waiting for someone?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe black man— kid, really— looked his way, wide-eyed. Wet his lips slightly. “I saw Mark with you. That what he asked you?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eVincent set down the drinks. “Busted.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“He needs to expand his repertoire.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I guess I do too.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe young man eyed the beers, and said demurely, “One of those for me?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eVincent slid the drugged beer toward him, smiled again, and took a seat.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe guy offered Vincent a soft nod, accepted the drink, and held out his hand palm down, a diminutive handshake. “I’m Lionel.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Vincent.” He shook Lionel’s hand.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Mmm. Vincent.” It almost sounded like Lionel was purring. “Very European.” His eyes gleamed. “A shade mysterious.” He took a sip of his beer. “I haven’t seen you here before, Vincent.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m . . .” Vincent couldn’t think of anything clever or witty to say. “Well, I . . . This is my first time.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Your first time, what? Here?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe hesitated. “Yes.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Or your first time. Period?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yes. My first time. Period.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLionel looked at him as if he’d just said something humorous. “You haven’t done this before. Ever?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“No.” Vincent took a drink as a way of hiding, but also of, hopefully, encouraging the young man to drink his beer as well.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt worked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen Lionel had finished the swig, his eyes drifted toward Vincent’s left hand. Toward his wedding ring.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You’re married.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yes.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Why tonight? Why did you come tonight? Is she out of town?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe last thing Vincent wanted to do right now was talk about Colleen. “Yes,” he said, lying. “Visiting her parents.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“And you decided to try something a little different? For a change?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“To step out on a limb. Yes.” His heart was beating. Thinking about Colleen made all of this harder.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eVincent took another sip from his drink. So did Lio¬nel.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I don’t live far from here,” Vincent offered, and then immediately realized that it was much too forward. On the other hand, if his suspicions were right, Lionel was working the place, looking for payment for his compan¬ionship, and wasting a lot of time on formalities wouldn’t serve either of their interests.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Really? Where?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Not far.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA wink. “Staying mysterious, are we?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eVincent had no idea how to respond. “I really . . . I’m not sure how to say this. Um, are you, well, are you—”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLionel laid his hand gently on Vincent’s forearm. “I can be whatever you want me to be, Vincent.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was a long moment before he removed his hand.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Okay.” Vincent said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLionel smiled softly. “Okay.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnother swig.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd another.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd although Vincent was anxious to get going, he realized he needed a little time for the drugs to work, so he answered Lionel’s questions about where he’d gone to college, UW–La Crosse, and what he did for a living, managed a PR firm. In response, Lionel mentioned that he had a theater degree from DePaul and was an actor “between jobs.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs the minutes passed, the drugs and alcohol started to have the desired effect.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Lionel?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Um-hmm.” His voice was wavering, unfocused.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Do you want to leave?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Your place is close?” he mumbled.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yes. Let’s get you to the car.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNo response, just a bleary nod.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSo Vincent helped Lionel to his feet and supported him on the way to the door.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301610672357,"sku":"NP9780451237767","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780451237767.jpg?v=1767734231","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/opening-moves-isbn-9780451237767","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}