Product Description What if the most powerful newspaper in a small New England state is taken over by two evil men under very compromising circumstances, and these two men are allowed to continue operating the newspaper behind the same veil of secrecy and privilege that the prior executives of that newspaper had always enjoyed? That synopsis is the basic storyline of "The Probe" and the tale is told in an entertaining, and sometimes surprising, fashion. Review "O'Rourke spins a deliciously wicked yarn... creates nifty and devious fiction that will keep readers on their toes... great fun..." -- Sam Coale - Providence Journal"The Probe," a mystery set in Rhode Island by Narragansett writer Jack O'Rourke... kept me turning the pages." -- Bill Reynolds - Providence Journal"This is one of those books that reads easy and is hard to put down...and it's a winner." -- Don Fowler - Cranston Herald and Warwick Beacon From the Author "The Probe" is a self published print on demand book that has won space on the shelves of the nation's largest bookstores because there are book lovers among us who still believe in the quaint notion that books, including books of this type, should be judged by their content and not their covers. Robert L. Carothers, the President of the University of Rhode Island, is such a man. He is on record stating that, "The Probe" is a good read... I've recommended it... " Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. The silent screaming of the whirling lights rotating on top of the police car and the rescue wagon were more incongruous on the wooded backroad than the lifeless body laying face down on the pavement, resting in its own blood. So out of sync were they with the quiet pastoral setting, to an observer with a fertile imagination, the attention grabbing beams of light could have served as a beacon for an extraterrestrial landing zone. The life's blood of the bicyclist had been wasted on the sandy light grey asphalt, marking the spot where he had fallen. His undamaged ten speed lay beside him, the front wheel spinning slowly in the soft wind as if in perpetual motion, in contrast to the still form of its owner. It isn't every day that the local police chief receives a wake-up call in the early morning hours from his barely coherent dispatcher, but, then again, it isn't every day that a dead body is found on the back roads of Little Compton. Chief Owen Regan arrived on the scene right after the beat patrolman damn near did a 360 trying to avoid an elderly gentleman leashed to a black labrador who jumped in front of his cruiser in a belated attempt to flag him down. "What have we got here?" Chief Regan said to himself within earshot of Patrolman Ramon Rodriques who was rushing to the chief's side. "An unidentified white male fell off his bike, hit his head on the pavement and expired," said Rodriques. "The subject in question has no identification on his person, and no one here knows who he is." "It must have been a helluva fall," said Regan. "It was, Chief." "How do you know? Did you see it happen?" "No sir... I didn't. But the guy's dead." "True," said Regan, "very true." The unhurried pace of the para-medics told Regan all he needed to know about the condition of the man on the ground. With each passing moment, the body grew stiffer and colder like the wax surrounding a wick once the flame has been lost. Roadside fatalities might be rare in Little Compton, but Chief Regan was no stranger to this type of scene. He had seen his share of roadside carnage during the twenty five years he patroled the highways as a member of the Rhode Island State Police, but rarely had he seen death come as quick as this one apparently had. He went right to the body and examined it and its immediate surroundings visually without disturbing a thing. "Has the body been moved?" he asked. "Not yet, Chief. I was the first to arrive and the subject was obviously beyond help so I told the resc