Call of the Void

Winner of the 2025 Shamus Award

for Best P.I. Paperback

Published by NeWest Press March 2024

Careening from the hardest edges of the city to creepy rural backroads where cries go unheard, Sloane’s relentless quest places the people closest to her at risk, while her own personal demons threaten to devour her. Lightning-paced and unputdownable, Call of the Void cements Sloane Donovan’s position amid the new generation of hard-boiled sleuths.

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To Those Who Killed Me

Nominated: Arthur Ellis Unhanged Award

Published by NeWest Press April 2022

Disgraced ex-cop Sloane Donovan has relied on her job as a fitness instructor to keep her mental illness and PTSD in check—until she finds a close friend dead, apparently by her own hand. Obsessive demons triggered and doubtful of the official narrative, she teams up with Wayne Capson, a PI willing to bend the law, to find out who really killed her friend. The search leads Sloane from Vancouver’s wealthiest enclaves to the street’s darkest corners, questioning millionaires, tennis instructors, sex workers, former police colleagues—anyone who might provide answers.

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Recalling the works of Jo Nesbø and Gillian Flynn, J.T. Siemens’s To Those Who Killed Me is a debut that provides a heavy dose of hardboiled suspense and introduces a fiery new heroine in crime fiction.

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Short Stories

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To Those Who Killed Me

”Dogger and I stood shoulder-to-shoulder on his balcony, looking down over LoLo and its revolving red, neon Q. The SeaBus chugged across the Inlet toward the downtown lights. ‘Sweet view,’ I said. He looked directly at me from two inches away. ‘I agree.’ I sipped my vodka gimlet. “Ohhhh, man, like that’s not the thousandth time you’ve used that line.” He laughed and finished his drink. I gave him a sidelong glance. ‘How long we’re you with Geri?’”

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“Standing 20 feet away, by Geri’s headstone, was Grady Harp. He looked thinner than I remembered, cheeks hollow and face lined. I turned to go, then looked at the letter in my hand. I ended up standing by his side. He didn’t look at me. ‘One phone call and you’re arrested.’”

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“Cash-filled backpack stowed beneath our table, the three of us sat in a back booth of Funky’s on Hastings. Yet another bar sliding inexorably toward gentrification, it still had cheap beer, sticky floors, last-ditch barflies, and washrooms that would gag a maggot.”

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“A chain-link fence separated the park from the steep brambly embankment leading to the train tracks below. At the end of the path, stairs descended into the shadows, illuminated by the glow of a cigarette ember. I started down the stairs and then stopped. Moving toward me I could make out the black pompadour, leather jacket, and silenced pistol.”

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“‘Oh my God!’ Karin said. ‘Something’s wrong.’ She pulled out her phone and dialled 911. ‘Tell them we’re in Oppenheimer Park,’ I said. Karin spoke to the dispatch as I made a move for the girl. She whirled at let out a scream, a look of fear and confusion in her eyes.”

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“Her free hand grasped a weather-stripped arbutus tree as she stared at the dark grey horizon. ‘I wonder where she is now. Ten days ago she was here and now she isn’t. Do you think she’s out there somewhere?’”

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“The Ballhaven pub was a dark cave that reeked of 100 years of cigarettes, spilled beer, and beshatted trousers. Kind of place that made your liver ache just from walking in. At this hour it was mostly empty, except for a few half dead barflies. The bloated toad bartender eyeballed Tia’s ass as we walked by. The ancient jukebox blared ‘Ring of Fire.’ Dark and faceless forms slouched in the shadows, clutching glasses of their favourite poison.”

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TO THOSE WHO KILLED ME

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“In an alley across the street, a teenage drug dealer wearing a fur-lined parka sold to a shivering blonde in a baggie blue sweatsuit. The woman wore soiled pink slippers and hopped from foot to foot, doing the jonesing junkie jig. She was a flailing mess. I recognized her from Geri’s funeral. The girl with the damaged face.”

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“As I stepped through the door of the No. 5 Orange, bass from a Jay-Z song vibrated through the floor and up my legs. Last time I was in ‘the Five,’ it was to bust some bikers unloading Smith & Wessons out the back door. As my eyes adjusted to the frenetic purple and red strobe lights in the packed club, I saw a leggy dancer undulating in nothing but red devil horns and white, feathery wings.”

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To Those Who Killed Me

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“Yuri looked up as our cruiser turned the corner into the alley, said something to his waifish redhead companion who spun around, and booked it in the other direction as fast as her black pleather pants would let her. ‘That would be the lovely Neko,’ I said.‘What do you want to bet she’s holding his stash,’ Quin said, aiming the nose of the cruiser toward Yuri’s kneecaps. At the last second, he breaked hard, putting the bumper a few yards from crippling a man. Yuri didn’t flinch, merely gave a small smile.”

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“Back in my cop days, the Mount Pleasant Inn had a reputation for bedbugs and portable meth labs. It also accepted pay by the month, day, or hour, and was one of the few remaining motels around that accepted cash over credit card, making it the lodging of choice among crooks, cheating spouses, and people on the lam. Judging from the dilapidated exterior I saw no reason to assume anything had changed for the better.”

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