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The 626 ProtocolThe 626 Protocol The rain in Los Angeles doesn't wash things clean. It just makes the grime slicker. I was sitting at my desk on a Tuesday night in 1947, nursing a whiskey that cost forty cents a pour and tasted like regret, staring at a case file that was leading nowhere. The file belonged to a woman named Nina Delgado, and it contained three things: a photograph of her father, Roberto...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 30 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Broken ColumnThe Broken Column The heat in Benton County in the summer of 1954 was not a weather condition. It was a sentence. Addie-Boy walked through the cotton fields at midnight with bare feet on red clay that had been baked all day until it cracked like pottery. His arms were wrapped in torn bedsheets from the hospital, the burns from the electroshock machines weeping yellow fluid that had dried to a...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 20 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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THE LAST CATCHHank Weber woke before dawn, as he always did, and lay in the dark listening to the lake. Lake Michigan didn't sound like the ocean—no tides, no rhythm, just an endless shifting against the breakwall, restless and hungry. Hank had been listening to that sound for fifty-six years. He figured he knew its moods better than he knew his own wife's. Not that he had a wife anymore. Linda had left in...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 25 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Iron CycleThe Iron Cycle The hospital room had white walls and a window that looked out on a brick building three feet away. Jack Doyle lay in the bed and tried to remember how he had gotten there. The doctor said it was a stress reaction, his mind protecting itself from something it could not handle. Jack had worked at the steel mill for twenty-two years. He had woken up one morning and not remembered...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 37 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Thorns of Blackwood ManorThe Thorns of Blackwood Manor The first thing Silas Thorne noticed about Blackwood Manor was not the size of it—though that was extraordinary, a house so large that the garden stretched further than his eyes could track—but the smell. It smelled of wet earth and old wood and something underneath that he could not name, something like the inside of a cave where water has been dripping for a...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 3 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Keeper of the Silver ThreadThe wind across the Yorkshire moors did not blow so much as it haunted, threading through the stone walls and hollows of the small town with a persistence that suggested purpose. It was in such a season of gathering fog and early dusk that Lady Eleanor Vane arrived. She came on a Tuesday, though no one could say for certain which day it was, for the weather in these parts made of time something...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 56 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Black BargainThe rain in Chicago doesn't fall so much as it accuses, pressing down on the city with a persistence that makes you question every decision that led you to stand outside without an umbrella. I was standing outside Veronica Vale's building on South Canal Street, watching the water run down the fire escape and thinking about how some people just don't know when to walk away. My name is Frank...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 36 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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THE ABYSSAL COVENANTThe fog had settled over Whitechapel like a shroud, thick and suffocating, turning the gas lamps into mere suggestions of light. Arthur Poole stood at the corner of Dorset Street, his threadbare coat offering little protection against the November chill, and wondered if the fog would ever lift—or if it had become as permanent as the hollow in his chest where Eleanor used to be. It had been...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 37 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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SHADOW OF SOLOMONThe crusaders had been gone from Jerusalem for three days when Yusuf found the jar. It was buried beneath the rubble of a house that had stood near the Temple Mount, a house that now was nothing but scattered stones and the smell of death. Yusuf was a fisherman by trade, though there had been little fishing in the days since the Franks captured the city. The rivers ran with blood, not water,...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 20 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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