by Liz Milliron
March 10 - April 4, 2025 Virtual Book Tour
Synopsis:
The Jackson Davis Mysteries
Niagara Falls Police Detective Jackson Davis is living a lie.
He has the perfect life: married, two children, a home, a promising career.
Underneath, however, he battles self-doubt and guilt over the incident that cost his partner her sight and her career in an explosion during the pursuit of a suspect. He denies having PTSD or any trauma related to the event, but those around him know better.
When Jackson returns to active duty and is tapped to lead the investigation into the death of a prominent local business woman, all of this comes to the forefront. He must learn to work with a new partner and deal with his personal demons if he is to catch the killer — or he risks losing it all.
Book Details:
Genre: Police Procedural
Published by: Harbor Lane Books
Publication Date: March 2025
Number of Pages: 402
ISBN: 978-1-963705-05-8
Series: The Jackson Davis Mysteries, book #1
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads
GUEST POST:
Deciding to write another series (Or “How I might have lost my mind”)
“You’re writing how many books?”
This was a common response when I told people I’d be launching a new series in 2025. See, I already write two of them: The Laurel Highlands Mysteries and the Shamus award-nominated Homefront Mysteries. That means I write two books a year.
Plus, I work 40 hours a week. And I have a family. And a social life.
Why would I start another series? Did this mean I’d have to figure out how to write three books a year?
To answer the second question first, no. I haven’t completely lost my marbles. I have friends who dissuade me from those moments when it looks like I’m going to take a flying leap into insanity. It’s still just two books a year.
Why a third series? That one’s a little harder to explain.
As a writer, I’m always looking for opportunities to push myself. To grow and overcome challenges. I’d reached a point with both series where I wanted to explore different characters. People who were a little more… broken, you might say. See the protagonists in the Laurel Highlands Mysteries and the Homefront Mysteries have issues to deal with, but I wouldn’t describe them as seriously flawed. Sure, they have aggravating characteristics, but that’s not quite the same thing.
But Jackson Davis has lived through trauma. His former partner lost her sight when she saved his life in an explosion – after he got carried away with the pursuit of a suspect. He carries all the baggage that goes with something of that nature: guilt, a bit of shame, a sense of responsibility, and a little post-traumatic stress. The first three he can kinda-sorta admit, even if he won’t acknowledge how they impact his daily life. The third, well, he cannot and will not acknowledge. Because in his mind, that means saying he’s “broken.” What if they take his job away? Being a cop and protecting others is his purpose in life. If he can’t do that, what will he do?
Yet it’s his very inability to admit he needs help that puts everything he values in jeopardy. His family life, his job, his friendships. Everything.
His former partner, Max Simon, is dealing with her own issues. She lost her sight and her job. She needs to adapt, but she’s a detective at heart. How can she move on when she – and Jackson – can’t seem to let go?
Then there’s Amy, Jackson’s wife who loves him dearly, but can’t seem to get through to him. And Rodney, the new partner, who is not only adjusting to a new role in police work, but a partner who confuses him; a guy who is friendly and competent one minute and a basket-case the next.
It’s a great boiling pot of angst and the possibilities for disaster are everywhere.
I love it.
Very early in my writing career, a friend and mentor told me one truism of fiction: Happy people are boring. We may want our characters to be happy in the end but think about it. If nothing ever challenged them, if they never had to fight for what they want, would the story be as interesting? Probably not.
The Jackson Davis Mysteries give me an opportunity to explore characters who are good people at heart, but who have serious shortcomings, both when it comes to themselves and to others. When you put a challenge in front of them, how will they react? What will they learn about themselves? And, maybe most importantly, what will I – the author – learn about myself?
Because there is a kernel of me in every character I write. Fiction is a (relatively) safe place to find out how I’d react to the situations I put my characters into and an opportunity to find out what I really believe.
So, three series it is.
But I still might be a little insane.
Read an excerpt:
Chapter 1
I stood in front of my open closet and shuffled through my tie selection. “Amy, have you seen my red tie?” I called to my wife.
No answer.
“Amy!”
She came into the bedroom, dark brown hair in a messy knot, stray strands stuck to her face. She held our six-month-old son, Christopher, over her shoulder as she rubbed his back. “What are you yelling for?” She glanced at the jacket on the bed. “I thought you only wore that suit to court.”
“I need to look sharp today, which means I need my lucky red tie.” I went over the ones on the rack for the third time. “The one with the dark gray pinstripes. It should be here.”
“For crying out loud. Let me.” She held Christopher out, forcing me to take him.
Before I could turn him around, he burped, a wad of spit landing on my chest. “Grab me a clean shirt, too.” I didn’t have time for this. “I need to make a positive impression today.”
“Jackson, you’re coming off desk duty. Not starting a new job.”
“All the more reason to look good. I need to remind the guys I’m an investigator, not a glorified secretary.”
Whatever Amy said was lost in the rattle of hangers. “Here.” She held out the tie. “It was with your other court suit, still in the bag.” She tossed it, along with a clean shirt, on the bed.
I handed back our son. “You’re an angel.” I leaned over and kissed her. Even wearing an old T-shirt and jeans, she put any supermodel to shame. At least in my mind. If I hadn’t been determined to be early, I would have demonstrated my gratitude with a little more emphasis.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t you forget it.” She disengaged Christopher’s hand from her hair.
I slipped into the shirt, buttoned it, and swiftly knotted the tie. Then I shrugged into my jacket. I held out my arms. “Well, how do I look?”
She smoothed my lapel. “Like one of Niagara Falls Police Department’s finest homicide detectives, which you are.” Her voice was light, but I caught the worried glint in her beautiful deep blue eyes.
“It’s going to be okay, Amy. I’m ready to get back to work.”
“I know.” She kissed me. “Go get ’em, tiger.”
I arrived at HQ and waved to the desk sergeant.
“Detective Davis, you going to testify today?” he asked.
“Nope. I’m back in the rotation, Herb.”
He smiled. “It’s about time.”
I took the elevator up to the floor where the Criminal Investigation Division was located and went to my desk. As always, I avoided looking at the empty one facing mine. I briefly wondered how long that would last.
Hopefully for a while.
From across the room, a voice said, “Davis. You’re here.”
I looked up to see Captain Yannick striding toward me. Trailing him was an unfamiliar Black man. He was in his mid-thirties, close-cut hair, nice suit. Really nice suit. He held the largest-sized cup of coffee Starbucks sold in one hand and a cardboard box under the opposite arm.
I focused on the captain. “Morning, sir. You get the paperwork?”
“I did.” The captain shook my hand. “I’m glad to have one of my ace investigators back in the rotation. I want you to meet Rodney Kirke. He’s a new detective for homicide. This is his first day.”
I nodded. “Welcome to the looney bin. I’d shake your hand, but looks like they’re full.”
He put the box and Starbucks on Max’s empty desk. “Captain Yannick told me all about you.”
“Only the good stuff, I hope.” I refrained from saying anything about his stuff on that desk. “Who’d you get partnered up with?”
Yannick pointed. “You. Meet your new partner.”
What the actual? I forced myself to remain calm. “Oh. You didn’t mention anything on Friday before we left.”
“And I apologize. I meant to and the day got away from me.”
I glanced at Rodney. “Captain, can I talk to you?”
“What about?”
“Nothing major. A few details and then I can get to work.” Like how he’d forgotten to say he’d assigned me a new partner.
“Unpack your things.” Yannick pointed to the new guy. He nodded toward me. “My office.”
Once inside, I closed the door. “Sir, what the hell? A new partner on day one?”
“I understand you feel blindsided. I should have called over the weekend. Mea culpa.” His expression told me he’d expected this response. “You had to know this was coming, though.”
I did. But the speed unsettled me. “I guess I expected more notice. Not to walk in on Monday and be introduced to the new guy without even a hint of noticed. And I didn’t realize Max was so easily replaced. I thought you’d take more time.”
Yannick’s gaze and voice held sympathy, but firmness at the same time. “Her position has been open for six months. Kirke’s recently passed the detective exam. You’ll work well together. You can show him the ropes.” He leaned back. “I spoke to Kirke’s commander from patrol, who said he’s top-notch. I think you’ll get on well together.”
Seeing the empty desk every day had been hard. Having a stranger occupy Max’s chair was worse.
Yannick seemed to read my mind. “Look, I can’t replace Max. Oh, sure. I can hire a new body. It won’t be the same. I know. But give him a chance. You learned a lot from Max and she’d expect you to step up and pass it on. Next call is yours.”
What a cheat. Problem was, he was right. She would expect it. “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”
***
I returned to the desks and assessed the man who Yannick thought could fill Max’s shoes. He’d unpacked the box and was arranging everything to his satisfaction. Strike one, he drank Starbucks. I couldn’t stand the import from Seattle, much preferring Tim Horton’s, the Western New York alternative. Max had not much cared about where the coffee came from, as long as it was hot and black.
Strike two. He’d put a fancy brass nameplate in front of him, with a leather blotter, and matching pen and pencil cup next to it. I hoped the attention to office supplies didn’t mean anything except excitement for the new shield. Max had never bothered to have more than a jumbo calendar and her ever-present book of Sudoku puzzles on her desk. “Looks like you’re all settled in.”
His hand jerked and the cup of pens toppled over. “Just about.” He straightened everything and looked around. Very few of the battered desks held anything as fancy as his desk set. “Guess I overdid it a little with the office supplies, huh?”
“How long have you had your shield?”
“Two weeks.”
That explained a lot. “I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s natural to be a little nervous, especially starting a new job like this.” I sat down. “Where’d you come from?”
“Downtown. Spent a lot of time chasing pickpockets away from tourists.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket and took his seat. “It’s not very often you meet a white guy named Jackson. No offense.”
It was what people said when they knew they’d been offensive. I could tell his clothes were new. The jacket and slacks were tailored and the tie shone like silk. “My mother was a horror fan and The Lottery was her all-time favorite short story. She loved it so much, she swore to name her first child after the author. I’m lucky I wasn’t a girl or I’d be called Shirley.”
He laughed, but stopped short. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
I held up my hand. “True story. My father tried to get the nickname Jack to stick, but it never did. I’ve gotten used to it.”
He shifted in his seat. “I, uh, heard about what happened to your old partner. Hope I can measure up. She sounds like she was quite the investigator.”
The words were a knife in my chest. “She was.” I had no intention of discussing Max with the new guy. “Why’d you become a detective?”
“It was time for a challenge. I also thought it would help in other areas.”
I waited, but he didn’t continue. “Such as?”
“What’s the scoop? Did Yannick give you an assignment when you talked to him or something?”
He has things he doesn’t want to discuss. We’re equal there. “Not yet.”
Yannick emerged from his office. “Davis, Kirke. Attempted bank robbery downtown. Get down there and take witness statements.”
I stood. “On it, sir.”
***
Excerpt from SHATTERED SIGHT by Liz Milliron. Copyright 2025 by Liz Milliron. Reproduced with permission from Liz Milliron. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
Liz Milliron is the Shamus-nominated author of the Homefront Mysteries, set in Buffalo, NY during the early years of WWII, the Laurel Highlands Mysteries set in the scenic Laurel Highlands of southwest Pennsylvania, and the Jackson Davis Mysteries set in Niagara Falls, NY. Her short fiction has been published in multiple anthologies including Murder Most International, Blood on the Bayou, and Murder Most Historical. Liz is a past president of the Pittsburgh Chapter of Sisters in Crime and the current Secretary, as well as the Education Liaison for the National Board of Sisters in Crime. She is also a member of International Thriller Writers, Pennwriters and the Historical Novel Society. Liz lives in the Laurel Highlands with her husband and a very spoiled retired-racer greyhound.
Catch Up With Liz Milliron:
LizMilliron.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @mary1414
Instagram - @LizMilliron
Threads - @LizMilliron
Facebook - @LizMilliron
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