Spotlight & Giveaway: Murder on Site by TG Wolff

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author TG Wolff to HJ!

Hi TG Wolff and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Murder on Site!

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

Identical twins Jakob and Seth Rizk grew up knowing justice wasn’t for everyone and that law and order were tools of the trade. Jakob gravitated to law. He began as a pre-teen cleaning the office for the county prosector and now finds himself interim attorney general for the State of Indiana. Seth chose order—at least, his brand of order. As a pre-teen, he worked for a private investigator with a motto “if you ain’t lyin’, you ain’t tryin’.” From there he joined the military and then the Miami Police Department.

Grieving over the sudden death of his mentor, Jakob is struggling with his new role as
AG. Suspended for a little tussle with a fellow cop, Seth returns to Indiana for the first
time in decades to help his brother maintain his sanity.

The first order of business is the murder of a construction inspector, Lucy Torok. With
little evidence, the Indy PD hasn’t made an arrest, something that is unacceptable to the
politically connected family. Now Jakob has to hold the pressure at bay to protect an
innocent man and create space for Seth to find the killer.
 

Please share your favorite lines or quote(s) from this book:

“I apologize, Lisa. I should have warned you that if I showed up shouting ridiculous
orders, you were to call an ambulance and have them bring restraints.”
“People are sneaky, dirty, and not at all trustworthy.”
“If I hear the word ‘fine’ out of your brother’s mouth one more time, I just might make
you an only child.”
“Just ’cause something goes wrong doesn’t mean something else ain’t goin’ right.”

What inspired this book?

In my day-job, I am a civil engineer working for a major construction company. One of
our annual training sessions covered topics like anti-trust and conflict of interest. The
instructor had compiled case studies on individuals who had been convicted of crimes
like bid rigging, fraud, and embezzlement. These fascinated me and became the spark
that is at the mystery heart of Murder on Site.
The idea of twins as main characters had been in my head for some time. I was very
attracted to the situational humor opportunities. I had first conceived the twins as sisters,
but as the characters developed, it was clear they were male. It’s funny how often
characters do not give the author a choice.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

The main characters of Murder on Site are twin brothers, Jakob and Seth Rizk. Jakob is a
lawyer—serious, smart, a rule follower. Seth is a cop on suspension—witty, impulsive, a
rule bender. It was important to me that readers could distinguish the brothers by their
voice and to create their voice, I had to get to know them.
Jakob is an intellectual. He loves jazz and fine clothing. He enjoys golf, concerts, and
theatre. Jakob speaks formally. He doesn’t use many contractions, little slang, and swears
sparingly.
Seth is a free spirit. He loves Afro-Cuban rap, ethnic foods, and anything physical. Seth
is more than capable of speaking formally but doesn’t. He uses contractions, slang,
metaphors, and if there is no suitable word, he’ll make one up.
Seth is closer to my “natural” writing style. Thankfully the editing process helped catch
any bleed over into Jakob’s voice.

What was your favorite scene to write?

The first scene was my favorite to write. I had imagined it several times before writing
and each time, it made me laugh. Jakob and Seth Rizk are identical twins. Seth hasn’t
been home for years. Upon arriving, he goes to Jakob’s office where everyone mistakes
him for his brother…and Seth lets them.

Excerpt:
“Welcome back, Mr. Rizk.” The greeting came from a rail-thin man wearing a
security uniform with Raymond on the patch. He stood in the arch of a metal detector,
thumbs hooked on his belt. “You didn’t lose your backpack, did you?”
Seth shrugged and went with it. “I changed for an event and realized I left
something in my office.”
Raymond stepped back, out of the metal detector, looking Seth up and down.
“Those suits of yours are nice, but I gotta say, this has style.”
Which made Seth grin. Nothing beat the South Florida dress code. “Style can
make up for a lot of shortcomings.” He tossed his rental keys, wallet, and phone in the
plastic bowl and walked confidently through the screening device.
“Oh, I know that!” Raymond stepped behind the table, running a hand along his
trim hair. “I’m almost ashamed at how much I spend. Almost.”
“I’m ashamed at how much other people don’t spend.” Seth swiped his
belongings, keeping Raymond’s attention focused on him and away from the items in the
bowl. “Stay cool,” he said before finally turning away. Eyes scanning the multitude of
signs, he finally found the one he wanted.
Elevator.
He’d done his homework. He knew which floor housed the attorney general’s
office.
Seth stepped off the elevator, his gaze sweeping for the features in place for
security and the human element that often neutralized them. To the left, twin glass doors
were fixed open, funneling traffic to a chest-high wooden circular desk with a receptionist. To the right were matching glass doors with one propped open by a sealed
shipping box.
He lifted his face to the security camera, shook his head, then turned
left—walking ahead like he owned the place.
“Hello, Mr. Rizk.” The young woman sitting at the elevated desk wore a headset
strategically placed amid her messy knot of hair. A tattooed vine with artistically curling
leaves crept from her white collar and disappeared behind her ear. “You changed your
clothes.”
“Obviously,” Seth said, emulating the bossy tone his brother often used. “And
that’s not the only thing that’s going to change around here … Ivy.” Between the
nameplate on her desk and pretty neck tattoo, hers was one name Seth wouldn’t have
trouble remembering.
Ivy stared at him, her mouth falling open. Her gaze shifted behind him to the
middle-aged Black woman with the air of sophistication that could take on a board of
pompous men with a single eyebrow raise.
“Ivy, when you’ve finished helping this gentleman, come back to my desk.” The
woman walked unimpeded through the gaping opening to the employee side. She startled
when she saw his face. “Jakob, you’re back. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Having no idea what she was talking about, he opted for the truth. “It’s always a
good thing.”

What was the most difficult scene to write?

Starting out, I expected the funeral of Harry Stanley to be the hardest to write. I was
surprised when the real struggle happened in the “will reading” scene. It took about three
drafts to get the actions and reactions right for the scene lead, Jakob Rizk. This is the
scene where he finally reconciles his feelings for the man who was his second father and
Stanley estranged daughter and ex-wife.

Excerpt:
“Thank you all for coming this morning. I am Andrew Rosenfelt, Mr. Stanley’s
attorney.” He held up a stapled document. “This is Mr. Stanley’s will, which I will now
read.”
Being a good attorney, he did indeed read it. Jakob was anxious. It wasn’t that he
wanted anything from Harry. But he didn’t want the ex–Mrs. Stanley to profit from the
death of a man she turned her back on. Jakob hoped Harry gave it away.
An endowment, maybe.
A new wing on a building.
Redoing a hole at the golf club … just not the eighteenth.
He squeezed Courtney’s hand.
“To Seth Rizk, I leave my cars and my golf clubs.” Rosenfelt glanced up.
“There’s a note with it. ‘Take good care of both, and if I catch you abusing either, I will
haunt you.’”
Seth spun in the seat next to him and punched his arm. “Did you know about
this?”
“No,” Jakob hissed, rubbing his arm. “I told you. Harry and I didn’t talk about
any of this.”
“To my daughter, Carrie Rose, I leave the sum of one hundred thousand dollars
and the beneficiary of any life insurance policy.” Rosenfelt cleared his throat. “This also
has a note. ‘Carrie, I am sorry I left this world before we could really get to know each
other. For all the lies your mother told you about me, there is one truth I hope you will
hold on to. Your father loves you.’”
Jakob leaned forward to see Carrie. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but he wasn’t
sure if they were regret, grief—or disappointment.
He chose to believe they were regret.
“To my grandson, Ryan, and other future children of Carrie, I leave a trust
endowed with five hundred thousand dollars.”
A gasp rose from the other end of the row where the ex–Mrs. Harry sat.
Rosenfelt raised his voice to be heard. “The funds will be divided equally and be
distributed upon their twenty-fourth birthday. Mr. Stanley left a sealed letter for the
grandchildren to be opened when the first comes of age. The trust will be managed by
myself.”
“Harry always was smart,” Jakob said to Seth. “He knew if his daughter managed
it, his ex would have it bled down to gas money by the time the kids were old enough to
collect.”
“The ex–Mrs. Harry came here expecting more,” Seth whispered. “As his only
child, she expected Carrie would get it all. He showed her.”
Jakob sat taller, proud of his … damn, he still didn’t have a word for him. “He
certainly did.”
“The rest of my estate, including accounts, investments, my home, and all my
belongings, I leave to Jakob Rizk, the son of my heart—”
“What!” the ex–Mrs. Harry screeched. “Him?”
Jakob hadn’t heard anything beyond “son of my heart.” The tears he’d worked so
damn hard to hold back now surged forward.
“Sit down and shut up, lady,” Seth snapped. “The man isn’t finished.” He nodded
to the attorney.
“Yes, thank you. Where was I? … Son of my heart to use and distribute according
to his judgment. He again left a note. ‘Jakob, you thought I saved you all those years ago.
The truth was, you saved me. I never said I loved you, but I did. I wish I would have told
you. I know you don’t want any of my things, but you’re getting them anyway. Don’t
work too hard. Pay attention to your wonderful wife. And make sure your brother doesn’t
crash my Maserati.”
Jakob raised his eyes to the ceiling, fighting tears and losing. Courtney squeezed
his hand again, tethering him to the ground. Seth told the ex–Mrs. Harry to suck it.
Not even laughing could stop the tears.

Would you say this book showcases your writing style or is it a departure for you?

The tone and characters absolutely showcase my style. I prefer character-driven stories
with subtle humor that reflects everyday real life.

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

I want people to be able to take a break from the pressures of their day and be able to just
play in my world. I hope readers find the mystery solvable and get a sense of victory. I
hope the characters and their situations make readers laugh and find a little peace in their
day.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

I am currently working on book 3 of the series, which will publish in August 2026. Book
2, Guilty by Association, releases in April

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: An ebook copy of MURDER ON SITE + one additional Tule ebook of the winner’s choice

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: There are mystery series where the story is nearly 100% about the mystery. There are other series where the detective’s life outside of work—romance, family, drama—is a substantial part of the book. For you, where is that sweet spot between mystery and drama?

Excerpt from Murder on Site:

CHAPTER ONE

Seth

Wednesday. After landing.

In a cloudless sky, the burning sun shined down on the streets of downtown Indianapolis. Heat waves visibly bounced off the sidewalks, slowly frying the unsuspecting city dwellers. But having spent most of the last ten years in a foreign desert or Cubano coffee–fueled South Florida, Seth Rizk was comfortable with the heat, the humidity, even the UV rays.

He walked from the garage where he left the rental car, and though he wasn’t alone walking the capital city at two in the afternoon, it appeared he was the only one enjoying it. Men and women in suits hustled across sidewalks as if racing toward a finish line.

And the women did it in heels.

“Afternoon,” Seth said to the male and female approaching him in blue suits so coordinated Seth was embarrassed for them.

No response.

The pair didn’t see him. He’d interviewed people like them before—so engrossed in what was in their heads, they couldn’t see the world around them.

The sidewalks also held their share of people moving with less vim and practically no vigor. Some twitched, others shuffled. Souls who lived through too much now melted into the anonymity of the city, watching for attack, waiting for opportunity. Seth had interviewed plenty of people like this before too. The results were mixed. As a group, they often provided good information. They were observant, a necessity for survival. But physical and mental illnesses twisted reality and fantasy until they were one muddled mess.

Then there was the distrust of cops.

“Afternoon,” he said again. The man looked to be somewhere between fifty and a hundred years old. His clothes didn’t fit well, but his tennis shoes were white as snow.

“Good afternoon,” he answered congenially as they approached each other. “I like your shoes.”

Seth glanced down to the canvas slip-ons he lived in when he wasn’t working. “I like yours too.”

The older man grinned with pride. “Thank you. Have a blessed day.”

“Appreciate it,” Seth said, meaning it. He pushed the revolving door and entered the long building known as Indiana Government Center South.

Summer didn’t touch the inside of the foyer. Between the tinted glass and the ultra-cooled air-conditioning, he put the interior climate somewhere between October and December.

“Welcome back, Mr. Rizk.” The greeting came from a rail-thin man wearing a security uniform with Raymond on the patch. He stood in the arch of a metal detector, thumbs hooked on his belt. “You didn’t lose your backpack, did you?”

Seth shrugged and went with it. “I changed for an event and realized I left something in my office.”

Raymond stepped back, out of the metal detector, looking Seth up and down. “Those suits of yours are nice, but I gotta say, this has style.”

Which made Seth grin. Nothing beat the South Florida dress code. “Style can make up for a lot of shortcomings.” He tossed his rental keys, wallet, and phone in the plastic bowl and walked confidently through the screening device.

“Oh, I know that!” Raymond stepped behind the table, running a hand along his trim hair. “I’m almost ashamed at how much I spend. Almost.”

“I’m ashamed at how much other people don’t spend.” Seth swiped his belongings, keeping Raymond’s attention focused on him and away from the items in the bowl. “Stay cool,” he said before finally turning away. Eyes scanning the multitude of signs, he finally found the one he wanted.

Elevator.

He’d done his homework. He knew which floor housed the attorney general’s office.

Seth stepped off the elevator, his gaze sweeping for the features in place for security and the human element that often neutralized them. To the left, twin glass doors were fixed open, funneling traffic to a chest-high wooden circular desk with a receptionist. To the right were matching glass doors with one propped open by a sealed shipping box.

He lifted his face to the security camera, shook his head, then turned left—walking ahead like he owned the place.

“Hello, Mr. Rizk.” The young woman sitting at the elevated desk wore a headset strategically placed amid her messy knot of hair. A tattooed vine with artistically curling leaves crept from her white collar and disappeared behind her ear. “You changed your clothes.”

“Obviously,” Seth said, emulating the bossy tone his brother often used. “And that’s not the only thing that’s going to change around here … Ivy.” Between the nameplate on her desk and pretty neck tattoo, hers was one name Seth wouldn’t have trouble remembering.

Ivy stared at him, her mouth falling open. Her gaze shifted behind him to the middle-aged Black woman with the air of sophistication that could take on a board of pompous men with a single eyebrow raise.

“Ivy, when you’ve finished helping this gentleman, come back to my desk.” The woman walked unimpeded through the gaping opening to the employee side. She startled when she saw his face. “Jakob, you’re back. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Having no idea what she was talking about, he opted for the truth. “It’s always a good thing.”

Jakob

Wednesday. 2:30 p.m.

Jakob Rizk didn’t notice the concrete sidewalks of downtown Indy. He didn’t see the people. His body was on automatic pilot, his mind back in the office of the Marion County prosecutor. They’d worked a few cases together back when he, Jakob, was a senior attorney in the criminal department.

Which was last week.

Then Jakob had stepped into the role of interim attorney general after Harrison Stanley died unexpectedly. The death and appointment were as much a surprise to him as the rest of the state. From assistant county prosecutor to the state’s top attorney in three years. The change left no time to plan, to think, to grieve. Noon Monday, the governor publicly announced the interim appointment. An hour later, Jakob sat behind the shiny desk in the office with Harry’s name on the door, scouring through emails and hand-annotated notes to pick up where Harry had left off on Friday.

A shoulder bounced off his arm.

“My apologies,” he said automatically. Lifting his head, he saw a swarm of young teens in identical blue T-shirts. He bobbed and weaved, feeling like he was swimming upstream.

The metaphor applied to more than the sidewalk. He reached an intersection, pressed the “walk” button, and waited.

Three hours ago, his mobile rang. Glad to see a familiar name come up, Jakob had answered without hesitating. But he wasn’t calling as a friend, he was calling as a county prosecutor. He had a problem and needed Jakob’s advice. Could he come over to talk?

So, Jakob went.

“Walk. Walk. Walk.”

Jakob obeyed, staying between the white lines out of habit rather than intent.

The problem was a dead woman named Lucy Torok. Her body had been found in her truck, parked under the interstate bridge where she worked as a construction inspector. The Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department had a suspect but evidence was so thin the odds of securing a conviction were single digits. On the surface, the case was murder. But beneath the waters lurked a political bear trap. Should he hold out for more evidence or move forward to appease the well-connected family? And that was where his friend needed advice.

What would Harry do if he’d gotten the call …

“I like your shoes.” A rough, worn voice pulled Jakob from his thoughts. He glanced at the Italian leather on his feet. “Thank you,” he said to the man sitting against the nearest building. Likely homeless, the clothes were oversized for the man and too heavy for the hot June afternoon. But his shoes, those were pristine. A point of pride. “I like yours. It’s a challenge to keep white clean.”

“It is, but worth it,” the man said. “Yessiree. I like those shoes. But truth, I liked your other ones better.”

Jakob’s mind raced to decode the comment. Had the man seen him before and noticed his shoes? He had a collection that would be embarrassing if anyone but his wife saw it. More likely the man suffered from a mental illness. Addiction. Delusional disorder. What else could make a man imagine shoes? Didn’t matter. He needed to get back to Harry’s office.

“I like those, too,” he said, playing along. “But you have to mix it up sometimes. Have a good one.” Jakob hurried along to discourage conversation. One more street and he entered the building through the revolving door. Crisp cool air greeted his face and hands. He was tempted to pull off his suit jacket, but knowing he’d been sweating, he left it in place.

“You’re back again,” Anthony Raymond called out. The security guard was one of Jakob’s favorite people, always having a smile to share. “What a surprise.”

“That’s me,” Jakob said dryly as he put his phone in the bowl, backpack on the table. “Just full of surprises.” He walked through the metal detector, then waited on the other side for Anthony to clear his bag.

“I guess your plans fell through.”

“You mean my meeting? No, I had it. It didn’t take long.”

Anthony’s face betrayed his bewilderment.

“Meetings do occasionally end early.” Jakob chuckled. “It’s rare, but every once in a while, we get a few minutes back in our day.”

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir, I’m sure they do.” Anthony pushed the backpack toward Jakob but didn’t let go. “I just have to ask. Why did you change clothes again?”

Did Anthony get him mixed up with someone else? He felt a little hurt. He saw Anthony as a—well, they weren’t friends, but acquaintances. Apparently Anthony saw him as just another suit.

“The governor expects us to dress when we’re in the building. We need to paint the right picture, you know. Have a good afternoon, Anthony.”

“You, too,” Anthony called after him.

Jakob headed to the elevator, grateful the doors opened nearly instantly. They closed and he was alone with his ego, dented after the reminder he wasn’t special at all. He shared the short ride up with his reflection. A familiar stranger. Neither different nor the same, who was he now?

The doors opened and he put on a façade that included his confident smile.

He walked through the glass entryway that had been the gateway to his work for the last three years. The receptionist, Ivy O’Neil, wasn’t at her post. A rarity. He headed left, to the office of the attorney general. He nodded to a staffer, who blinked without nodding back.

Jakob was beginning to think there really was something different about this upcoming generation of attorneys and it wasn’t their overwhelming social skills.

The desk and area outside the AG’s office was the territory of Executive Assistant Lisa Hastings. The most senior person in the office, who was also conspicuously missing.

“Where is everyone?” Jakob had a moment of panic. Had he forgotten a meeting? An event?

Voices came from behind the door to Harry’s office. A dull thump. Something heavy hit the floor. What the hell was going on in there?

Jakob sucked air in, then narrowed his eyes at the closed door. Someone was looting Harry’s office. Confidential information was everywhere, valuable to both sides of the aisle, to corporations, to plaintiffs and defendants.

Not on his watch!

Jakob shouldered the door open, leaping inside. “Stop what you’re doing!”

The desk fell from two pairs of hands, the muted slap of wood against carpet. Four faces turned to him. Three wore slack-jawed expressions. The fourth grinned like a pirate looting treasure.

“Seth?” Jakob stepped inside, blinking to see if his twin brother was really there or a figment of his overloaded mind. “You’re in Miami.”

“Jakob.” Seth looked around the large corner office. “I almost like the digs.”

“Jakob?” Lisa Hastings took a step away from the man who looked strikingly like her boss. Her head was on a swivel.

Jakob. Seth. Jakob. Seth.

Amusement washed over Jakob and brought a smile to his face for the first time in days. “I apologize, Lisa. I should have warned you that if I showed up shouting ridiculous orders, you were to call an ambulance and have them bring restraints.”

Seth chortled.

“You’re twins,” she said, now shaking her head. “Identical.”

“I’m better-looking,” Seth said as Jakob said, “I’m smarter.”

Jakob scowled as he covered the distance to his brother in three strides. “You show up, unannounced, and you rearrange my office?”

Seth’s smile grew until it reached both ears. “You nailed it in one, Counselor.”

“God, I missed your stupid head.” Jakob grabbed his twin, pulling him in for a hard hug.

“Well, don’t think I missed your ugly face,” Seth said but hugged him just as hard.

Ivy picked up the law book from the floor. “We can put it all back,” she said, looking to the law clerk who always seemed to be lending the young woman a helping hand.

“Absolutely. Just take a minute.” Jakob lifted one end of the desk.

“Leave it where it is,” Seth ordered.

Jakob gave his brother the look that had gotten him accused of witness intimidation. “This is my office. I say where Harry’s desk goes. Put it—”

“—where it is.” Seth dragged him until they were face-to-face. “Haven’t you learned anything about security? Your desk does not go in front of the door. It gives a shooter a direct line of sight.”

“Ohmygod.” Ivy dropped the book in her hands. The dull thud was louder on this side of the door.

Jakob held out his palms as if to calm a frightened child. “It’s okay. Leave it for now. We’ll decide where to put Harry’s desk later.”

“We all have work to do.” Lisa herded Ivy and the clerk out of the office. “And you two … behave.” She closed the door behind her.

Seth pulled his arm back and dropped onto the long leather couch now positioned to face the door. “I bet nothing gets by her.”

“That’s it?” Jakob threw up his hands. “Are you just going to pretend like you didn’t appear out of thin air? What are you doing here, Seth?”

“I came to see you. It’s not every day I become related to the attorney general of a whole state. These are moments to be savored.” He stretched, inhaling deeply. “Feels good. I like it. How about you?”

Jakob gave his brother his perfected “don’t mess with me” stare.

Seth gave up the pretense with an eyeroll. “Put away your weapon. I give up, Counselor. I’m here for Harry’s funeral.”

“Thank you, Seth, but we talked about this,” he said, walking to his desk. “I told you not to come.”

Seth snorted. “Since when has that worked? I’m here and you’re stuck with me until I book a return flight. Now, how’s it feel to be the attorney general for Indiana?”

“I’m the interim AG, and it’s fine.” Jakob slid his hip onto the corner of his desk. “When did you get in? How was your flight?” The conversation drifted into the usual commentary on air travel and Indianapolis traffic. When it came to accommodations, there was no discussion. “You’re staying with us. We have plenty of room. Let me call Courtney and tell her you’re here.”

“I have a better idea.” Seth’s grin became mischievous. “We’ll trade clothes.”

“It’s not going to work. We’ve been trying to pull off a switch since Courtney and I dated at Indiana University. We’re O for, like, twenty. She won’t fall for it. She never does.”

“She doesn’t know I’m here,” Seth argued. “I’m darker, but as long as your olive ass isn’t next to me, she won’t notice the difference.”

Jakob shook his head. “She’s smarter than both of us.”

“I’m not denying it, but she can’t always win.” He studied his twin, head to toe. “Why did you cut your hair so short? I hate our hair short. We look like a lawyer.”

“I am a lawyer. Why is yours so long? We look derelict. You working vice or something?”

“Something.” Seth ran a hand through the thick, wavy black hair their father passed on to them. Their build and features came from their father’s Mediterranean ancestry, with one notable exception—their eyes. They both had their mother’s Scottish misty gray eyes.

Seth hadn’t answered the question, but Jakob let it go. For now. “I’ll bet you a dollar Courtney knows it’s you in under a minute.”

“A minute? Done.”

His cell phone rang. His friend the prosecutor was calling back. Good news didn’t happen that quickly in Jakob’s experience. He looked to his brother.

Seth popped to his feet. “Come find me when you’re done. I’ll be wherever Lisa says you’re buying me lunch.”

Seth

Wednesday. Three-ish.

Seth sat at a bar and nursed a local draft as he read the texts that had come in while he’d been in airplane mode.

“We had a call scheduled. You missed it”

“FYI Bridges had surgery this morning”

“I boxed up your stuff”

Swipe left. Swipe left. Swipe left.

He closed the app and surveyed the room again. Nearly empty as the little hand crept toward three, he shared the bar with one other guy. They caught each other’s eye and nodded.

Cop recognized cop.

The other guy picked up his beer and brought it around to Seth’s corner of the world. He introduced himself as a sergeant with the Indy PD.

“Miami PD. Seth.” He lifted his glass in a toast.

The sarge returned the toast. “I love my city, but if I lived in Miami, I would not vacation in Indianapolis.”

“Visiting family,” Seth said. “My brother got a big fancy promotion. I came up to mooch off him for a few days.”

The conversation flowed into shop talk. In big cities, problems didn’t so much change as have different flavors. Weapons and tech. Policies. Politicians making decisions they were completely unqualified to make.

“I’m wearing a suit that costs more than everything you own. Do you think I want to put my arms on a wet table?” The disgruntled voice made both cops look over their shoulders.

In the center of the picture window, the man was big and ruddy with thick blond hair. With him was a suited woman with shoulder-length hair and four-inch heels. Between them, the bartender hastily wiped the tabletop with a cloth.

With a grunt, the man claimed one of the window seats.

“Thank you,” the woman said apologetically, taking the one opposite.

The sarge huffed. “He’s old enough to be her father.”

Seth shook his head. “It’s not romantic. He’s her boss.”

“Oh, I’m saying he’s the boss, and just not in the office.”

The bartender began pouring a glass of white wine. The bottle wasn’t stacked up with a dozen of her sisters on the “house” rack but was from a separate refrigerator. He then pulled a dark amber from the top rack and splashed a hundred bucks into a rocks glass.

“Guess we all work with assholes,” Sarge muttered.

Seth snickered. “The difference is, we occasionally get to shoot ’em.” He texted his brother.

“Starving here.”

“Order appetizer.”

“Great.” He dropped the phone on the bar. “Can I get an order of bacon cheese fries and another beer?”

“Your brother can’t get out of the office, either? My wife’s like that. I tell her the work will still be there in the morning.”

Seth shrugged. “The promotion is new. He’s trying to make a good impression.”

“That prosecutor has the backbone of a slug and the ambition of a snail.” The ruddy man’s voice punched through the quiet of the bar. “All he has to do is prosecute the son-of-a-bitch. It’s in his goddamn job title. What does he do instead? He calls Rizk. Can’t you do anything about it, Jessica?”

“It’s a county case, Senator. If it were in our office, then I’d have some pull—”

“So take it. If the prosecutor isn’t doing his job, it’s your duty to take the case and see that Lucy’s murderer is served a long, painful lifetime of justice.”

Seth looked through his hair, over his shoulder. He saw just fine through the screen that obscured his face from the “senator.” The man was leaning into the table, pushing his agenda down the woman’s throat.

Physically, she held her own. Mentally, psychologically, and emotionally? She brought a spork to a gunfight.

“Someone you know?” Sarge asked.

“The guy he’s talking about. Rizk.”

They both looked forward now, eyes on the big screen on the wall in front of them. Ears, however, were with the man maneuvering the woman into an uncomfortable position.

The woman, Jessica, sounded angry. “It was my job, Senator. I have the experience and put in my time. I should have been named interim attorney general.”

Seth tucked his head, watching the pair again.

The senator sat back and stared at his companion, almost like he was seeing her for the first time. “Help me get justice for Lucy and I’ll help you get the permanent appointment. The governor can appoint an interim but only the caucus can name the successor.” He held out his hand.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, leaned in, and she shook his hand.

“You know who they are?” Seth asked his drinking buddy.

“He’s Nolan Connor,” Sarge said. “A state senator and first-class asshole, but I’m guessing you picked up on that. Cleaned up after him a time or two. I don’t know the woman.”

Seth’s phone pinged. “Leaving. B there in five.”

He stood up, pulling his wallet from his pocket. No way he could let Jakob walk into the bar. If the woman and the senator saw him, it would give away the advantage he had—knowing the pair was conspiring without them knowing he knew.

The bartender set a basket on the bar. “Your fries.”

“Change in plans. Make them to-go.” Seth plucked two twenties from his wallet and dropped them on the bar. “For mine, his, and the food.”

“Thanks.” Sarge slid a card to Seth. “If you need a friend.”

“Appreciate it.” Seth took the card and the Styrofoam box of fries. Careful to keep his face hidden from the targets, he left the bar.

Why his brother worked in public service escaped Seth. He could have had boats and cars and more of those square-ass suits if he’d gone private.

Now, it was even worse—Jakob was a politician.

He swam in a sea of sharks, a tiny, oblivious minnow.

Seth rounded the corner and met the eyes of a man sitting on a short wall, wearing a joyous grin. “You back again?” He looked at Seth’s feet. “Man, you sure do get around.”

Ah, white sneakers guy.

“Me and trouble.” Seth leaned against the wall, which gave him an unimpeded view of the walk to his brother’s office. “You like bacon cheese fries?” Seth opened the to-go container.

“Like? No. Love? Oh yes.” He reached in and selected one so loaded with cheese and bacon it folded under the weight. “They’re still hot.”

“Fresh,” he said automatically, his attention on a suit a block away. Head down, hands stuffed into pockets. Yeah, it was Jakob’s “thinking” posture. He ate another fry. “Needs ketchup.”

“Why you need ketchup when you got cheese and bacon?” His friend took two fries and used them like a scoop. “Crispy bacon, just the way God meant it to be. You a cop?”

“What?” Seth broke his fifty-yard stare and turned to the man who was now leaning away like he was contagious. “Yeah, but not here. Here, I’m just a brother.”

The man didn’t just laugh, he cackled. “You may not be White, but you ain’t no brother.”

“I am.” He pointed to the familiar face coming toward them, head still down. He shouted, “Look up before you walk into a pole and make your face even uglier.”

Jakob’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing.

“Boat shoes and Italian leather.” The words tumbled out on a wave of laughter. “Two of you. Damn, but you two had me thinkin’ I should go back on the meds.”

His brother joined them, his serious gaze going between the two men. “Seth.”

“Jakob,” Seth said, imitating his seriousness.

“Ezekiel,” the shoe connoisseur offered. “Ain’t we biblical? Want a fry?”

With a sigh, Jakob sat on Ezekiel’s left. He selected a naked fry from the side, then dragged it through the cheese. “Thought you were at the restaurant.”

“I was,” Seth said. “Now I’m not.”

Silence.

Jakob didn’t fill it.

“Power issues,” Seth said, which wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the electrical kind of power. “I escaped, heroically saving Ezekiel’s fries on my way out.”

Ezekiel took another from the stack and raised it in a toast. “To chivalry in action.”

“Any time,” Seth said and then he went fishing. “Phone call took longer than you thought. Is there a problem?”

Jakob took another fry, this time jabbing it into a pool of cooling cheese. “I’m the acting attorney general for the state of Indiana. The title means I’m a personal helpline.”

At the news of Jakob’s title, Ezekiel fumbled his fry. A pigeon seized the opportunity.

Seth reached across like nothing happened and picked out a short stub of a fry. “Anyone in particular?”

Jakob clasped his lips together tightly and looked sideways at Ezekiel.

“Come on, Jakob. Ezekiel isn’t gonna tell anybody your business. Are you, Z?”

His snort turned into a laugh. “Even if I did, who’d ever believe the goddamn attorney general ate bacon cheese fries and told secrets to me?”

“A dead woman named Lucy.”

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

In the corridors of Indiana’s justice system, power is both a weapon and a curse.

Jakob Rizk never expected to become Indiana’s acting attorney general—especially not after his mentor’s sudden death. Two weeks in, he’s losing sleep, battling a ruthless rival, and facing off with a powerful senator focused on his downfall. The last thing he needs is for his twin, Seth—a Miami cop hiding secrets of his own—to arrive unexpectedly.

Jakob is under pressure to prosecute a young engineer for the murder of a hard-nosed inspector famous for rooting out corruption. But with scant evidence and clear signs of political interference, the case is a minefield. Jakob has always lived by the law, but now one misstep could cost him a career.

Together, the brothers must unravel a web of greed and deception, each dead set on appearing strong in the other’s eyes. As they race the clock, which matters more: the truth, their careers, or fragile bonds that could be shattered forever?

Fans of Scott Turow will find themselves right at home in this gripping legal mystery.

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Meet the Author:

TG Wolff writes mysteries meant to be solved. She specializes in puzzles and giving you everything you need to beat the detective to the solution. Diverse characters mirror the complexities of real life and real people, balanced with a healthy dose of entertainment. TG Wolff holds a Master’s Degree in Civil Engineering, which gives her no background in writing but was an excellent training ground for mystery solving.
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