ABOUT THE BOOK
For a helpless, autistic child, it was inevitable.
For the prime suspect, a choice.
For ADA Alex Greco, a calling.
When a beautiful and profoundly autistic boy named Hector is found hideously throat-cut in a Bronx row house, it's his father, a callous and deceitful widower with gang ties, who emerges as the prime suspect. Reluctantly catching the case is A.D.A. Alex Greco, himself the wounded father of an autistic son who died at age three. A relative newcomer to the challenging and often brutal world of New York's toughest borough, Alex has been excelling in this environment for two years, rebuilding his shattered personal life and finding love again with a brilliant forensic psychologist, Dr. Nikki Jaynes.
But Alex guards a horrific secret from his own past, and prosecuting Hector's case will do more than re-open old wounds - it may tear apart his present life as well. Teamed up with two savvy and colorful NYPD detectives, they build a strong case against the boy's father, Norman Ruiz. But twists unfold as similarities are discovered by the Medical Examiner between Hector's case and two recent adult murders, a fact which could exonerate Norman or make him a suspect in multiple homicides. Another murder shatters the case from the inside out. All the while, echoes from Alex's compromised past continue to reverberate, threatening everything he's rebuilt as a case that now haunts him speeds toward its shocking conclusion.
"An engaging and talented writer, Roger Canaff pens crime thrillers with an authenticity born of years of work in the field. He knows his subject and delivers with sincerity and truth."
- EDWARD CONLON
Bestselling Author, Blue Blood
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I'm a former prosecutor and current consultant and legal expert on special victims issues, born in New York City and raised in Northern Virginia. I'm back in NYC and continue to write, speak, teach law, and consult.
Stephen King once dedicated a novel to his children with the words "Kids, fiction is the truth inside the lie." That's a beautiful sentiment, and I suppose when I reflect on the gifts in my life, the one of simple storytelling, either of a story I've enjoyed or one I've told, ranks as high as any.
The reality of sexual abuse in early childhood drove me, in a way, to what I considered a calming distance from the concept of truth. But in boomerang fashion I returned to it with a vengeance and became a special victims prosecutor in the late 1990's, a career I loved dearly and still take part in as a trainer and consultant.
Like many who write, I probably have little choice. There's magic in the ability to tell a tale; I've known this since I was a toddler. Truth telling, in particular, is power; a disarming, vivacious force. I told that to the victims I worked with- hundreds of them, mostly children- when preparing them for testimony. From their shared memories and my own, I have created fiction that I believe is the very essence of myth: Every bit the truth inside the lie.
I own a sailboat and love nothing quite like feeling her fly beneath me when the wind is around 12 knots and steady. I'm blessed with a loving family, a beautiful nephew, and the best childhood friends- still steadfast after 40 years- that I could have asked for to help pull me through. Newer friends have appeared and decorated my life in layered ways I never thought possible. I believe in a God and still practice as a left-leaning Catholic, although with strong Deist tendencies. Lately my most tempting image of God is one of a frustrated artist and the cosmos a palette. Magnificent. But still striving.
It's a joy-filled, messy thing. I can only smile ear to ear at the chance to be a part of it, every day, until the last one meets me. Until then, I'll tell stories. Thanks for reading this one.