The directions had been difficult to follow, but Pendergast knew he was at the right place. It was in the atmosphere; the lull of the crickets in the tall grasses, the sheen of the afternoon sun warming the still river, the Spanish moss hanging in the trees—even the smell of the woods and the river and something else, a heady vapor on the breeze unlike anything he’d ever smelled before. Something about it made his muscles tighten with trepidation.

He crossed the plank bridge over a tributary to the unpainted, tin-roofed shack, hyperaware of the silence after all the racket that it had taken him so long to grow accustomed to in New York City, where he’d lived for several years. With his steps on the plank bridge, even the crickets had quieted. The sky, reflected in the tea-colored river water, was a bright, beautiful blue. A few cottony clouds...   read more »

Constance Greene sat in her favorite chair in the mansion at 891 Riverside Drive; she was writing in her journal. Categorizing the events of her day and the emotions that came with them. She heard the front door close; Aloysius Pendergast was home and she heard his shoes drop to the floor.

But wait— She thought. If he’s wearing them why did they drop? They wouldn’t drop if he was wearing them, only if he was carrying them and then let them fall or if—

Constance shut her journal and rose, poking her head cautiously out the door, finding nothing in the immediately hallway, she crossed to the banister overlooking the foyer. Pendergast stood in the hall, his jacket wrapped around a willowy boy with pale blue hair. He held the boy in his arms while Proctor took a backpack from his shoulder and sat it by the door....   read more »

I swung my gun hand, making sure to hit Diogenes hard enough to knock him out and it connected with his forehead. It was only fair, considering what he’d done to Charles. Proctor caught him before he could fall onto me and dosed him with god-only-knew what to keep him unconscious until I decided otherwise. I helped Proctor maneuver him to the wall, where I’d installed shackles the day before.

Dear brother was heavier than I’d expected him to be and Proctor had to help me while I shackled his wrists above his head. I gave him enough slack to take most of the weight off his shoulders but not enough for...   read more »

She screamed, screamed bloody murder.

No.

She screamed, her hands flying to her mouth to try to

No!

She screamed, unable to stop the

NO!

She screamed.

Maybe.

She screamed. Jeff’s face turned a shade of red thatohbullshitbullshitbullshit

Lee stood up, stretching. Enough for today. It just couldn’t be forced. It was like sex that way, it either worked or it didn’t, and if it didn’t, no amount of pretending would make it right. Time to do something physical, work the kinks out. She decided to pull some weeds. At least it would get her out into the spring sunshine and fresh air before the rain they’d been calling for all week started. She’d made her preparations for the rain and waited for it for four days; it was beginning to appear that the weathermen had all graduated from the same lousy correspondence school of weather prognostication.

She looked down at her denim cutoffs and green tank and figured...   read more »

The woman screamed again and again, short, shrill screams, as if someone was poking her with a stick. She was a stocky, middle aged woman in hunting camouflage, her face free of make up but her fluffy blonde hair incongruously well-coiffed. Breaking away from the medics who’d been evaluating her, she now stood there right in the middle of the crime scene, her boots planted in a puddle of blood, letting out staccato shrieks and jabbing her finger at the corpse, pulling her hand almost back to her ear and thrusting it forward with each scream. The EMTs hovered outside the perimeter wearing helpless expressions, clearly not wanting to trample potential evidence by fetching her...   read more »