This was a warm Sunday afternoon; Sheldon Scott, Investigations—my downtown L.A. office—was closed, and I was invited to a party. A Hawaiian party at that: luau, roast pig, the works. From behind the house somewhere I heard a happy squeal. A happy feminine squeal. Sounded like a good wild party. There was a lot of hellish yelling and whooping. At the top of six cement steps I found a buzzer on the right of the massive door, poked it as chimes went off to the tune of How Dry I Am.
Terri Lowe is just passing time in postgraduate studies, living with her father in an affluent part of the city.
Fate brings them together at a busy intersection when Terri is a victim of car jacking. David chases down the thieves, shooting one in the process.
Terri soon discovers that her newly found friend is drawn to violence like metal to a magnet.
David accepts his lot in life as he is drawn into kidnapping and murder investigations with Terri by his side all the way.
Their destinies are now the same; both drawn to violence like metal to magnets.