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Eric Matheny is a criminal defense attorney who enjoys writing crime
fiction, drawing from his experience working in the legal system. He has
handled everything from DUI to murder. His latest novel The
Victim
 was released on August 13, 2015, published by Zharmae.
 
If you are a fan of John Grisham, David Baldacci, and Harlan
Coben, The Victim may be your kind of novel. 
The Victim is a
tense, fast-paced, legal thriller/psychological suspense novel that centers
around a young defense attorney whose horrifying misdeed from his college days
comes back to haunt him.
Anton Mackey is a
man with everything. At least, he seems to be on the surface. He has a rising
career as a private attorney, a lovely wife, a beautiful daughter; he and his
family live in an idyllic neighborhood that most people dream about. Sure,
there are troubles that plague this family, the same as any other, but all in
all things are looking up. Life is good, and the future is better. 
Except Anton has a
past, too, and something has been looming, bearing down on him from that
history, just waiting for the chance to strike. Soon, everything will change,
and the life he’s struggled so hard to build will come crashing down around
him. 
And the worst part
of it all: Anton Mackey has no one to blame but himself.
Praise for The Victim:
“The Victim by Eric Matheny has a fast moving pace and a skillfully
conceived plot with quite a few twists and turns… A page turner, this legal
thriller has all the elements to hold reader interest from the first page to
the last.” – Reviewed by ReadersFavorite.com
“An astounding legal thriller that is full of surprise, mystery and
moral dilemma. Matheny may well be the next Scott Turow.” – Reviewed by BestThrillers.com
“The Victim is a fast paced read and recommended. It’s a
thrill to find a new author who stands out and Eric Matheny is an author with a
bright future.” – Michael A. Draper
“I just can’t say good enough things about this book.
It was very entertaining and one that I just could not put down.” – Debbie Krenzer
 

Eric Matheny was born in Los Angeles, California, where he lived until
he went away to college at Arizona State University. At ASU he was president of
Theta Chi Fraternity. He graduated with a degree in political science and moved
to Miami, Florida, to attend law school at St. Thomas University. During his
third year of law school, he interned for the Miami-Dade State Attorney’s
Office, where he worked as a prosecutor upon graduation. In 2009, he went into
private practice as a criminal defense attorney. He is a solo practitioner
representing clients in Miami-Dade County, Florida, and Broward County,
Florida. He has handled everything from DUI to murder.
In his free time, Eric enjoys writing crime fiction, drawing from his
experience working in the legal system. He published his debut novel Home in 2004, which centers around a successful drug
dealer catering to the rich in Orange County. His second novel Lockdown, published in 2005, follows a law student trying
to prove that an inmate serving a life sentence in one of California’s toughest
prisons might actually be innocent. Eric’s latest novel The Victim, is a tense, fast-paced, legal thriller/psychological
suspense novel that centers around a young defense attorney whose horrifying
misdeed from his college days comes back to haunt him. It was published by
Zharmae in August 2015 and is available for sale on Amazon.
Eric lives outside of Fort Lauderdale with his wife and two young
sons.
Readers can connect with him on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.
To learn more, go to http://www.ericmathenybooks.com/
Chapter 1
March 16, 2003
Payson, Arizona
He thought he was dead.
Steam hissed from the crumpled front end of the
RV that had folded accordion-style against the guardrail. His face stung from
the punch of the airbag. His lungs burned from that awful talcum powder that
drifted through the cabin as the bag deflated. The chemical dust, suspended in
the air, seemed to be frozen in time.
His nose was numb and swollen. He tasted blood
trickling down the back of his throat like a cocaine drip. He peered through
the cracked windshield, his eyes adjusting to the reddish glow of a desert
sunrise. The crushed-in hood had jarred upward. The chassis was off balance.
The whole vehicle wobbled as he shifted his weight in his seat.
Oh my God.
He cranked the door handle and heaved his
shoulder into it to pop it off the jamb. He hopped down onto the highway. The
winds were heavy and dry, rustling the sage and scrub oaks that dotted the
rugged landscape along the Beeline Highway. A sliver of fiery light barely
illuminated the peaks of the Mazatal Mountains, which rose and fell against the
horizon. Giant saguaros stood like sentries.
The back half of a red two-door sedan lay
beneath the shredded front tires of the RV. Flattened like an aluminum can. On
impact the RV must have bucked forward, rolling up onto the rear bumper of the
smaller car, coming to rest on its roof. The significant weight of the RV
crushed the sedan into something you might see stacked in a junkyard.
The highway was quiet. Just the rush of hot wind
crackling the delicate spines of the sagebrush. He got his bearings quickly,
the initial shock of the crash having passed. A sobering experience. Literally.
Half a handle of Jack Daniels coursing through his veins had been replaced by
something stronger.
Panic.
He saw long hair, a young female’s. How he could
tell her age by the back of her head, he would never know. Maybe by its length
and sheen—bright, yellow-blond. Slick with blood. Her forehead propped on the
steering wheel. The driver-side window blown out. The windshield was a
shattered web.
The man beside her—or boy, he was arguably
young—was out cold, his body positioned in the passenger’s seat in a gimpy,
off-kilter fashion. The passenger side had been thrust into the guardrail,
which molded itself to the frame of the car. His head lolled against the door. Blood
leaked from his ear and ran down his neck.
“Are you okay?” he screamed, although he knew he
would get no reply. His voice resonated throughout the valley. “Hello?”
He braced himself against the ruined front end
of the RV. He felt a surge of bile and whiskey come up in the back of his
throat. He heaved forward but held it in. He was lightheaded.
Oh God,
please let this be a dream. Oh God, please…this can’t be happening, this
can’t be happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening…