|About the Book|
A lonely retired sheriff watches from the sidelines as a new crop of crime fighters try desperately to come to terms with evil in their midst. Arthur Pendryll’s dark and brooding tale of psychotic evil descending on a small town is at once disturbingMoreA lonely retired sheriff watches from the sidelines as a new crop of crime fighters try desperately to come to terms with evil in their midst. Arthur Pendryll’s dark and brooding tale of psychotic evil descending on a small town is at once disturbing and profound.Warning: This ebook contains very dark and disturbing images of horror. Adults should read carefully to determine if the content is appropriate for a child in their care.Here is a preview:Forensic evidence that Alex didn’t really understand suggested that their tormenter kept them alive and tortured them for three to five days, before finally slitting their throats and depositing the bodies somewhere remotely. Modern forensics had been available when he retired a decade and a half past, but he’d never really integrated it into his investigations. Why the hell would he need to? Outside of an occasional robbery gone wrong or a drunken husband carrying a fight with his wife too far, there really wasn’t serious crime to address until recently.Mary Ellen Allis and Thomas Harding, the prom king and queen, had disappeared on prom night. According to the papers, their friends and contemporaries at the dance said they drove off, probably to Mill Lake, right after the prom. It was a typical hang out for high school students and more than one girl had lost her virginity in the backseat of a car, while the soft sound of the lake water lapping at the shore made for romantic background noise. Alex had to suppress a smile thinking of all the kids he’d run off from Mill Lake, of the deer-in-the-headlights looks when the flashlight caught the wandering hand or the smudged lipstick, of the grateful looks when he told them to start the engine and get the hell out of the area.They hadn’t found the couple when they’d found the boy’s car. It hadn’t been found at the lake, though. Instead, they’d discovered it at a convenience store about a mile down the road. There was a small bit of blood on the steering wheel, later confirmed to be the boy’s, and Mary’s purse was in the wheel well. That was two days ago and the community had come together to search frantically for them, before the inevitable slitting of their throats would occur. It was something that rode through the current of every conversation.