Verwandte Artikel zu The Betrayed (Krewe of Hunters, 14, Band 14)

The Betrayed (Krewe of Hunters, 14, Band 14) - Softcover

Buch 14 von 38: Krewe of Hunters

Graham, Heather

 
9780778316565: The Betrayed (Krewe of Hunters, 14, Band 14)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0778316564 ISBN 13: 9780778316565
Verlag: MIRA, 2014

Inhaltsangabe

www.eHeatherGraham.com

Sleepy Hollow isn't so sleepy anymore… 

One night, New York FBI agent Aiden Mahoney receives a visitor in a dream—an old friend named Richard Highsmith. The very next day he's sent to Sleepy Hollow because Richard's gone missing there. 

Maureen—Mo—Deauville now lives in the historic town and works with her dog, Rollo, to search for missing people. She's actually the one to find Richard…or more precisely his head, stuck on a statue of the legendary Headless Horseman. 

Mo and Aiden, a new member of the Krewe of Hunters, the FBI's unit of paranormal investigators, explore both past and present events to figure out who betrayed Richard, who killed him and now wants to kill them, too. As they work together, they discover that they share an unusual trait—the ability to communicate with the dead. They also share an attraction that's as intense as it is unexpected…if they live long enough to enjoy it!

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Heather Graham has written more than a hundred novels. She's a winner of the RWA's Lifetime Achievement Award, and the Thriller Writers' Silver Bullet. She is an active member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America. For more information, check out her websites: TheOriginalHeatherGraham.com, eHeatherGraham.com, and HeatherGraham.tv. You can also find Heather on Facebook.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

It was a horrific sight.

And, bizarrely enough, one that might be missed, at least in Sleepy Hollow. Here, and in the surrounding villages and towns, images and effigies of headless horsemen were common.

A pole had been stuck into a man's likeness created from wood and stuffing and plaster and cotton—a likeness that ended at the neckline. Right where the Revolutionaryera jacket and shirt left off.

And Richard Highsmith's severed head had been stuck onto the pole.

It was bloody, and the midlength, salt-and-pepper hair was matted and dark. The face might once have held character and dignity.

Maureen Deauville stood with her enormous wolfhound, Rollo, and stared at it. For a moment, she felt as if she'd been teleported back to medieval times. The breeze rustled through the trees and the sounds of traffic from the road seemed to fade. She might have been standing in distant woods, viewing the results of a gruesome execution carried out by some long-ago government.

In reality, she was on the street that bordered a cemetery to the west. There were houses here—some very old, some not so old—and a few businesses, including Tommy Jensen's Headless Horseman Hideaway Restaurant and Bar. His effigy of the headless horseman, a good seven or so feet high, lurked on the roadside to attract clientele.

And it had been used to display the head.

The parking lot was filled with cars, mainly cop cars. It was barely 7:00 a.m. At least seven uniformed officers were there, ready to handle crowd control and keep the few cars on the street moving along. A crime scene unit van had just arrived and jerked to a halt, followed seconds later by the ambulance from the morgue.

They'd begun the search for the missing man that morning, just half an hour earlier.

"You've done it. You and Rollo have done your jobs," Lieutenant Purbeck said with a sigh. "Not what we expected to find, or hoped to find, but…" He paused. "But that's part of Richard Highsmith, anyway."

The blood was congealing. It had dripped over the crisp collar and seeped onto the shoulders of the white cotton shirt and blue jacket on the should-have-been-headless mannequin. The eyes were open in death, and crows and blackbirds lurked, waiting to attack. Even as Maureen stared up at the atrocity before her, a crow zeroed in, aiming for the soft tissue.

"We've got to get that down!" One of the cops, a young man, new to the force—Bobby Magill, Maureen thought—groaned, sounding ill.

"Anyone who's going to puke, get the hell away from the crime scene! Let's get it covered!" Lieutenant Purbeck shouted.

At Maureen's side, Rollo gave one of his deep, bone-jarring barks. Maureen quickly soothed the large wolfhound. "Good job, Rollo," she murmured. Men scrambled, as Lieutenant Purbeck said, "I want a step…a block…something. We need an investigator up there. And crowd control! Someone arrange detours until we've got all this out of here. And I sure as hell don't want anyone around gaping and snapping shots for Twitter and Facebook!"

Gina Mason, head of the forensics unit, stepped forward and yelled at them. "Get the birds away! And then get some kind of screening set up. We have to preserve the scene! Can we get rigging and tarps around the—the— Around it! Everyone will be breathing down my neck for trace evidence and I'll have to say we were defeated by a crow!"

Dr. Aaron Mortenson from the coroner's office had arrived, as well. He got out of his car and walked over to Gina.

"Let the photographer up there first, and then I'll take a quick look. I won't disturb anything until you've had a chance to get what you need," he told her.

Mortenson was middle-aged, trim in appearance and always reserved. He saw Mo and Rollo. To her surprise, he nodded to her with something that was almost a smile. A silent acknowledgment that said, Work well done. He sighed loudly. "Since it's so early, thankfully no four-year-old saw this and realized the head was real. God knows— Halloween. It might well have taken hours even in broad daylight before anyone saw that it wasn't just part of some grisly display."

She nodded solemnly back at him.

Lieutenant Purbeck came to stand near Mo, allowing the technicians and the medical examiner the space they needed.

He set a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm okay," she assured him.

Then she turned away, grasping Rollo's collar and taking him with her. He'd done his job well. Too well. This was one search she wished she could've sat out. Sooner or later, someone would have really looked at the headless horseman that stood outside the entrance to Tommy's place. The police hadn't really needed her services. She actually wished that they hadn't called her; this one was a little too close to home.

"Why my horseman?" Mo heard. She turned.

Tommy Jensen, an old friend—and owner of the Headless Horseman Hideaway Restaurant and Bar—had been allowed through. The restaurant didn't open until eleven; his staff didn't even arrive until nine or nine-thirty. But, she realized, looking at his grim face as he stared at the scene, it was his horseman and his parking lot. She figured he'd been called in.

He looked at her bleakly and tried to smile. "Of all the horsemen in all the world…"

Mo touched his arm. He was her senior by a few years; she'd known him since she was ten or so. She recalled that the older girls had often teased him because he'd been a big, awkward kid. He still liked to moan about his dating life. But now that they were all older and presumably more mature, the group she'd hung out with growing up now frequented his restaurant. It was her favorite hangout when friends met up at night for dinner, coffee or drinks. He always took care of them.

He'd been born and bred in the area and was a true lover of the Hudson Valley. He'd owned the restaurant for about two years and it was charming, offering pool tables, dart boards and an "enchanted forest" for young children when their families came for lunch.

Purbeck turned to him. "What time did you leave last night, Tommy?"

Tommy was startled—as if he'd just realized he might be a suspect. "About 2:30 a.m. And I didn't leave alone. I left with Abby Cole. We cleaned up, locked the place and were together the whole time. I drove her home."

"And you didn't see anything? Anything at all unusual?" Purbeck demanded.

Tommy shook his head. "Sir, I'm telling you, we were worn-out. Halloween's coming, you know? We're busy. We had to announce last call and practically shove people out of their chairs. When we finally took off, my car was the only one in the lot and."

"And?"

"I didn't even glance at the horseman, to be honest. But, like I said, we'd been busy. We had a lot of visitors and people were talking at their cars before leaving. They'd been to the attractions, the haunted houses, the storytelling, all that. So.I'm not a cop, but I don't see how this could have been done until the wee hours of the morning."

Purbeck released a sigh. "Call your people. We're going to have this area closed off for the next five hours or so."

"The poor guy! I feel really bad about this." Tommy frowned. "But why did it have to be in front of my place? Oh, Lord, will anyone ever come here again?" he asked, his tone dismayed.

"They'll flock in—to see...

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Verlag
MIRA
Erscheinungsdatum
2014
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0778316564
ISBN 13 
9780778316565
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
368
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Product Safety Manager
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