{"id":253205,"date":"2026-07-13T02:39:15","date_gmt":"2026-07-12T23:39:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/a-perfect-hero-paula-detmer-riggs\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T02:39:15","modified_gmt":"2026-07-12T23:39:15","slug":"a-perfect-hero-paula-detmer-riggs","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/a-perfect-hero-paula-detmer-riggs\/","title":{"rendered":"A PERFECT HERO – Paula Detmer Riggs"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Of course, you will remind him to leave no clues and make sure no one dies. The time is not yet right. But soon, Smith. Very soon.” * The motel parking lot, well lit and pockmarked with puddles, was nearly full when Ian returned from running off his disappointment. Most of the license tags were out of state, something to be expected in a college town. Nevertheless, habit had him skimming the makes and models, memorizing them in his head. One, a cherry red Civic had a Just Married sign tucked in the back window.<\/p>\n

Ian had been outside on latrine duty with Mutt when the newlyweds had arrived a little after eight. A cute couple in their mid-twenties looking smugly happy and embarrassingly eager to rip each other’s clothes off. At the time Ian had been looking forward to doing a little clothes ripping himself and had returned their greetings as they’d unlocked the door next to his. The chubby, laughing bride with flowers in her pale hair and stars in her eyes had flashed him a sweet smile when he’d wished them happiness.<\/p>\n

“Forever and ever,” she’d said, casting an adoring gaze at her brand-new husband whose chest expanded visibly at her obvious reverence. Now, as Ian passed their door, he felt a heavy weight settling over his tired shoulders. Disillusionment was a bitch, he thought as he slipped the key from the pocket of his running shorts and inserted it in the lock. The message light on the phone was blinking when he walked in. It infuriated him that he’d looked even before he’d crossed the threshold.<\/p>\n

It infuriated him more to realize he wanted her to have an excuse he could accept without sacrificing too much of the self-respect he’d worked so hard to reclaim. Mutt greeted him at the door, tail wagging and tongue lolling as usual. After devouring his treat, the mangy beast walked to the door and whined, looking back over his shoulder expectantly. “In a minute.”<\/p>\n

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Ian MacDougall wasn’t quite drunk enough yet to pass out. In fact, he hadn’t yet downed enough booze to work up a pleasant buzz. Though his rent was due and his money was low, he’d given serious thought to buying another bottle. A man had his priorities, after all. So he’d walked to the convenience store on the corner to buy scotch.<\/p>\n

The good stuff, not rotgut. As long as he bought the good stuff, he wasn’t a drunk, right? He still didn’t know why he’d bought dog food instead. Hell, the damn hound could find better eats scrounging through the trash barrels on the beach. Now as forty-four-year-old Ian walked the familiar strip of sand and rock, his belly was on fire, and his head was one pounding misery. He should have bought the scotch and let the dog do without.<\/p>\n

Dogs didn’t have nightmares. Or memories that twisted and tore through a man’s mind until he wanted to run himself into oblivion. With the exception of the regulars who slept beneath newspapers or tarps or in cardboard shelters wedged between the rocks above high tide, Ian was alone on this stretch of coastline. Overhead the stars glittered like cold, hard chips of ice. Above the phosphorescent surf, fog roiled on the horizon, sending long, angry tendrils toward the beach. Below the cliff, the surf was a wild thing, angrily ripping and tearing at the land.<\/p>\n

Pausing in the lee of a jagged chunk of ancient California granite, he lit another cigarette and drew in smoke. Spindrift dampened his face and chilled his bones. Behind him the funky Southern California community of Ocean Beach in San Diego had finally settled down for the night, only a few dimly illuminated windows salting the darkness.<\/p>\n

Ian’s eyes felt gritty as he looked out over the sand. The beach itself was empty. No matter where he started or what direction he took initially, he invariably ended up at the cliffs. He knew why, of course. It was the place where he’d once decided to end his life. And the place where he’d met the woman who’d changed his mind. After field stripping his cigarette butt, he dropped the remnants into the pocket of his windbreaker before settling his wired body onto a flat chunk of cold rock.<\/p>\n

As he fished another smoke from the pack in his shirt pocket, the mutt who’d appointed himself Ian’s bodyguard settled down on the hard red dirt at his feet. “Get a life, you miserable cur,” he muttered, frowning.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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