Defender - Hardcover

McNamee, Graham

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0553498959 ISBN 13: 9780553498950

Verlag: Wendy Lamb Books, 2016

Inhaltsangabe

From the Edgar Award­–winning author of Acceleration comes a mystery about an old murder and new truths, perfect for fans of Barry Lyga, Madeleine Roux, and Michelle Gagnon.
 
They call her Tiny, but Tyne Greer is six foot six, a high school basketball star who is hoping the game will be her ticket out of the slum. She lives in a run-down building called The Zoo, where her father is the superintendent. One day she discovers a crack in the wall of an abandoned basement room. And sealed up in the wall is a girl’s body. Horrified, she runs to get her dad. But after he goes to take a look, he comes back and tells Tyne that nothing’s there. No girl. No body. He tells her she must be seeing things in the dark.
 
Tyne is sure it was real, though, and when she finds evidence that the body was moved from the hole in the wall, she knows the only one who could have done it is her father. But why? What is he hiding?
 
Tyne’s search for answers uncovers a conspiracy of secrets and lies in her family. The closer she gets to the truth, the more dangerous it becomes for her. Because some will do anything to bury the past . . . and keep her silent.
 

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Graham McNamee won the Edgar Award for Acceleration. He also wrote the thrillers Bonechiller and Beyond. A creature of the night, he lives in the dark.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

1

 

 

“Attack or retreat? Do I shoot, or shake you?” Dad says. “What’s my next move, girl? Read me.”

 

He stares at me across the little back alley basketball court behind our building. He’s got the ball, but I’m between him and the hoop.

 

“Whatever you try, old man, I’ll smack it down.”

 

He laughs. Dad’s my trainer. He’s big, but I’m bigger. I play center on my high school team, and I’m a monster. Six feet six inches tall.

 

They’ve got a lot of names for me--Girlzilla, Bigfoot, Titanic. But mostly they call me Tiny. Because my real name is Tyne, and they think it’s funny.

 

“What’s my move?” He dribbles just out of reach. A bear of a guy, with shaggy brown hair, a stubbly beard and a growly voice.

 

It’s after dark, deep in December. You can see our breath in the cold air as we work up a sweat, playing by the parking lot lights. The hoop is bolted to the wall.

 

“Don’t watch the ball,” Dad says. “It won’t tell you. Not my eyes either--the eyes will trick you, looking one way when I go the other. I can fake you out with my shoulders, head, hands.”

 

He shows me the fakes, making me bite every time.

 

“Where do I look, then?”

 

“Right here.” He pats his gut. “The belly button. Body can’t go anywhere without it. Where it goes, the rest follows. So, read me now.”

 

Dad runs through a sequence of fakes, getting me to twitch but not commit to his moves. I waittill his gut twists, giving him away, and then I’m there to cut him off.

 

“Not bad.” He backs up. “Remember, keep low. Knees bent, on your toes, butt down, arms out. How’s the knee feeling?”

 

“Sore, but not screaming.”

 

I’m a wounded warrior. Got injured in a game, and now I’m wearing a brace on my right knee till it heals.

 

“Take it slow and steady. We’ll get you back in the game.”

 

It’s crunch time for me in the push to score a college scholarship. I’m seventeen, and this is my senior year. The scouts are watching, looking for prospects, and I can’t let them think I’m damaged goods.

 

So we have our after-school practices here, with Dad showing me what he picked up playing hoops himself, and we focus on the key defense drills--the moves and footwork. It’s a dance, he likes to say.

 

“You had enough?” Dad asks.

 

“You’re the one huffing and puffing.”

 

I breathe deep, the chilled air a fresh shock to my lungs. These are the dying days of the year, but winter hasn’t really hit us yet. The city wakes to morning frosts but stays sunny and mild, with no snow. Feels like the calm before the storm.

 

“You talk trash.” He grins. “Can you back it up?”

 

“Try me.”

 

He retreats, eyes shining in the darkness where the lights don’t reach. I crouch low, waiting for him to make his move. We face off for a long moment, the seconds counting down to the beat of the bouncing ball.

 

Then he charges. Straight at me, before twisting right. I get there before him, but he pivots, spinning left to pass. I back up quick to stay with him, and just as he goes in for the layup I bang into him, swatting away the ball. We slam together and I get knocked off-balance. I lose my feet and start to go down, but Dad catches me. We stagger in each other’s arms, and he turns before we crash into the wall so he takes the impact.

 

Dad grunts, the windknocked out of him. We separate and he hunches over.

 

“You okay?” he pants.

 

I nod, gasping.

 

“That was . . . a foul, girl.”

 

“No way,” I say. “Clean block.”

 

“You play dirty.”

 

“I get it from you.”

 

He laughs, breathless.

 

We call it a night. I hunt down the ball in the shadows; then we make our way to the back door, winded and stumbling, leaning together to keep each other up.

 

A dance in the dark with my old man.

 

 

 

 

2

 

 

I wake up to the end of the world.

 

My bed shaking, the room quaking. The deafening noise of concrete cracking.

 

My eyes fly open. I try to focus and see if the walls are splitting open, and the ceiling is collapsing on me.

 

My little brother isbouncing on my mattress, while the roar of the road crew tearing up the street outside thunders loud.

 

I fight to catch my breath.

 

Just another day here. Not the end of the world, only feels that way.

 

“Quit it, Squirrel,” I say. We call my brother that because he’s always climbing, pouncing and bouncing--like now.

 

I go to kick him off, but stop. Reaching down beside my bed, I grab a basketball off the floor.

 

“Go fetch.” I toss the ball out the door of my room.

 

As he chases after it, I get up and lock the door. Stumbling over to the window, I open it for a breath of chilly air, and get blasted by the wrecking crew twenty-five floors below. We live in downtown Toronto at the top of a slum tower they call the Zoo. Istare out at the view, still expecting something apocalyptic. But there are no bombed-out buildings, mushroom clouds or giant meteors in the sky. Those wandering figures in shredded clothes down there aren’t the undead rising, just homeless people turned out from the shelter down the street.

 

And it’s a gorgeous sunny day, freaky fine weather for early winter.

 

You’d think the city workers would get the week off from construction chaos. But it’s December 27 and they’re back at it with their Christmas break quake.

 

I stretch out as much as I can in my small room. But it’s a tight squeeze for a giant with my reach. From fingertip to fingertip I’ve got a wingspan not far off seven feet. I take a size fourteen men’s sneaker. And my weight--never mind. I’m big.

 

My phone buzzes fromsomewhere in my sheets. I dig it out and find a text from my guy, Stick. He’s known as Stick because he’s a skinny twig of a dude.

 

The message says: Rise and shine, Tyne. HOLIDAZE CRAZE! Let’s run naked in the streets. Set this town on fire!

 

And there’s a shot of Stick with his eyes bugged, spiky curls sticking straight out, mouth wide in a silent shout--looking like somebody just tased his testicles.

 

I text back: Arson +Indecent Exposure? Count me in. But breakfast first.

 

We’re free for another week, so I’m up for anything.

 

I turn and trip over my discarded knee brace, wincing at the stab of pain that shoots up my right leg. I grab the bottle of painkillers on my desk and pop one. During a game, I got a minor tear in my MCL, the ligament that holds the knee together. I’ve been sidelined for weeks. I’m trying to cut back on the pills so I don’t get hooked, just one in the morning to get me started and one at...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Wendy Lamb Books
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2016
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0553498959
• ISBN 13: 9780553498950
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Anzahl der Seiten: 240
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar