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By Sue Henry

A number of award-winning writer Sue Henry takes us into the guts of America's final frontier with a gripping story of suspense set in a rugged land that appeals to the adventurous and robust ... and to people who are interested in darkness. Famed Alaskan "musher" Jessie Arnold thinks she's ultimately placed her darkish earlier at the back of her. however the excavations on her new cabin unearth a decades-old skeleton entombed in a crumbling basement wall -- besides a butterfly pendant necklace worn by way of the alleged sufferer of a brutal serial slayer who preyed on quarter girls 20 years prior. Pulled once again right into a homicide research opposed to her will, Jessie fears a grim, half-forgotten nightmare has been reborn. For, during this stark and lonely position, within the first days of the all-too-brief Alaskan summer season, one other lady has disappeared and not using a hint. The indicators recommend the unthinkable: an insatiable human monster has back. And the clues she's uncovering trace that Jessie Arnold might be his subsequent sufferer.

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Sample text

Now she wondered if it was an exercise in bad judgment. Was she making another mistake? As she focused on her indecision, the construction sounds faded to a dull sort of background music. She didn’t notice the roar of the truck, now empty of concrete and turning to leave the yard, as it lumbered toward her and the driver hammered the horn to attract her attention. Startled, she leaped out of its way, yanked back to the reality of what was going on around her. Prentice came trotting across the yard to lay a hand on her arm.

For a long moment, she stared at him resentfully, then turned once again to the crew in the pit. “If you don’t come up out of there immediately, I’m calling the police. You’re trespassing on private property, and I am telling you all to leave. ” She swung around, walked swiftly past the avid re- 28 SUE HENRY porter as if he didn’t exist, climbed back into the motor home, and closed and locked the door. Turning up the music until it drowned out the sound of the discussion that ensued outside, and ignoring the repeated knocking that had started again on her door, she gave the stew a stir, sat back down at the table, and sipped at the Jameson’s until it and they were gone.

Jessie handed him a cold bottle of Killian’s from the refrigerator and, pouring herself a splash of the Irish whiskey, settled across the table from him. After raising her arms behind her head to stretch her back and shoulders, she leaned both elbows on the table, took a sip of the Jameson’s and sighed. “They ran me a merry chase. ” Reaching, she took the small green bud vase and stripped off the paper to reveal a single red rosebud, standing tall and just beginning to open. “This is a nice surprise.

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