After volunteering at the Charleston Fire Dept., Wendy Gee was inspired to write “Fleet Landing” a gripping mystery novel about a team dedicated to stopping a rogue arsonist.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Wendy Gee’s Fleet Landing, which is out June 10th 2025.
ATF Special Agent Cooper “Coop” Bellamy alienates his 11-year-old daughter with inflexibility. When the Charleston fire chief asks him to investigate a baffling series of devastating fires plaguing her city, he leaps at the opportunity to rekindle the estranged relationship with his kid and nab the serial arsonist. But the firebug’s insatiable appetite for destruction turns deadly pulling him further from his family.
Sydney Quinn, Charleston’s top TV reporter, champions the retrial of a man she believes was wrongly convicted of another deadly arson. When she links that decades-old fire with a current spate of arsons, she receives dangerous taunts from the mysterious Falcon who’d rather she left the maze of deceit undisturbed.
Sydney’s flare for the controversial contends with Coop’s unyielding ‘rules save lives’ philosophy as they team up to unmask the mastermind behind the trail of scorched houses and tattered lives. Coop’s mettle will be further tested when his daughter is kidnapped by the person his suspects of having set the fires. If he has any chance of finding her, he must put his career and reputation on the line while confronting a darkness in his own past. Both Sydney and Coop will make unlikely allies, without knowing they’ve crossed paths with a monster.
Sydney tucked a strand of chestnut-colored hair behind one ear, then poked her head through an open door.
“Action 7 News at your service. What’s the hot lead you called about?” She laughed when she spotted her pal autographing baseballs. “I’m thinking that refreshing your collection of client swag is hardly worthy of scrambling the station van.”
The modest law firm office on the third floor of a converted four-story sail factory reminded Sydney of her newsroom cubby: crammed with stacks of never-ending business. She removed a folder from the guest chair and searched for a place to lay the darn thing without disturbing the guy’s elaborate piling system.
Rob Noble, the Black community’s most famous scion, tossed her a signed baseball. “That ball and file are for you.”
“Will your souvenirs generate any bacon if I can hawk ’em online?”
“Doubt it.” Rob grinned. “But the RiverDogs are retiring my jersey in a few weeks. I sign a couple dozen balls every morning so they’ll have plenty to give away on Rob Noble Night.”
Sydney slid onto the chair and dropped the signed memento in her purse. “Is that your big story? If so, I’m all in. But you could’ve told me over the phone. Now, you’ll need to slip me a pair of box seats for my trouble.”
As a former catcher for Charleston’s minor league franchise, Rob had been a cinch for the majors until bum knees destroyed his chance at the show. Though, in Sydney’s view, the guy couldn’t hit a major league slider to save his Aunt Agatha. To everyone’s good fortune, neither sore joints nor his inability to tag the crafty breaking pitch hampered his legal prowess. These days, he could’ve been a partner in any law firm in the city. Instead, he’d founded the Innocence Network, which served mostly low-wealth clients of color.
“I can talk baseball all day, but it’s not why I invited you.” Rob pushed the cap on his Sharpie, then placed the case of baseballs atop a cluttered credenza. He lumbered around the desk. “After striking out with dozens of petitions, peppered with a whole mess of motions that never made it out of the infield, I finally homered and wrangled a retrial for a good man holed up in Lieber.”
Sydney raised a palm. “Let me guess. The guy serving time in our finest correctional institution didn’t do what the state said he did. Frankly, I’m shocked.” Her voice was saturated with mock exasperation.
“True, except you didn’t ask about his crime. I figured it’d spark your interest.”
“Potential passion project?”
“Local history. With a side of moral indignation. And a villain you’ll want to sink your manicured nails into—and shred.”
“Ooh, I do love a promising trifecta.” Sydney opened the folder. Clipped inside, a police booking photo showed a Black teenager with an old-style hi-top fade haircut, shaved on the sides and about three inches long on top. His features were arranged in a semi-tough-guy mask, but his eyes were wide and frightened. Her eyebrows shot up when she read the kid’s charge. “Arson? Which one? I thought our rash of fires in Fleet Landing remain unsolved.”
“The young man you are looking at is from a different era. But at least the current fire-setter is taking a break.”
“Think he’s done?” She knew too many months had slipped by with no arrests. That perceived lack of law enforcement response didn’t sit well with the locals.
“More like a seventh-inning stretch.” Rob worked his jaw. “We’re bombarded with requests for claims assistance. One insurance company with a big stake in the neighborhood is stonewalling beneficiaries. Get this: they believe homeowners are responsible for the fires.”
“Ridiculous,” Sydney scoffed. “The amount of those claims wouldn’t be worth burning their own homes. Besides, the fire department thinks some random homeless guy is their best suspect.”
Rob nodded. “But we’re way off in left field.” He pointed to the folder on Sydney’s lap. “Nathan Sharpe was wrongly convicted of the big train station fire back in 1985. Steamrolled due to ineffective counsel.”
Sydney was unfamiliar with the event since she’d only lived in the city for seven years. “Save it for the jury. I hoped you’d offer me a story with a sensational capital murder.”
“You want sensational? Thirty-nine souls perished in the blaze. Nate was sentenced to as many consecutive life sentences. But I swear to you, the guy is innocent.” Rob blew out a jet of air and brought his palms together. “This is Nate’s last chance. No more appeals. No additional bunnies in the proverbial fedora. If I fail, the entire weight of our justice system will have crashed onto a blameless man who’ll rot in prison. But my case is in the crapper. I really need your help.”
Thirty-nine victims.
