A Touch of frost

Excerpt

I had watched Caryn’s husband closely.  Waited for the perfect chance to breach his inner circle.  Though he didn’t have a security detail or bodyguards, the outer perimeter of his Georgian-Style mansion was sealed tighter than Buckingham Palace.  Mile-high gates, cameras, and motion-sensors abounded.

On the rare occasions he did venture out, he’d blend into a crowd or vanish into traffic as if by magic.  Photographing him proved just as challenging.  Where’s Waldo had nothing on this guy.  Every picture Tommy had taken—and he’d shot hundreds—came out blurry or obscured somehow.  Digital.  Instant.  It didn’t matter.  The man was as elusive as Alice’s white rabbit.

But patience is a virtue and mine had paid off.  After months of legwork, tons of research, and hundreds of surveillance hours, I’d finally found a way inside Braeden Frost’s house.