Book of Shadows
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Homicide detective Adam Garrett is already a rising star in the Boston police department when he and his cynical partner, Carl Landauer, catch a horrifying case that could make their careers: the ritualistic murder of a wealthy college girl that appears to have Satanic elements.
The partners make a quick arrest when all evidence points to another student, a troubled musician in a Goth band who was either dating or stalking the murdered girl. But Garrett’s case is turned upside down when beautiful, mysterious Tanith Cabarrus, a practicing witch from nearby Salem, walks into the homicide bureau and insists that the real perpetrator is still at large. Tanith claims to have had psychic visions that the killer has ritually sacrificed other teenagers in his attempts to summon a powerful, ancient demon.
All Garrett's beliefs about the nature of reality will be tested as he is forced to team up with a woman he is fiercely attracted to but cannot trust, in a race to uncover a psychotic killer before he strikes again.
keeping to the darkness. Watching, but not coming close. There is no rest. Not now, not today, not this week... this week, of all weeks... Not ever. Chapter Two Roarke was worried. Before his desk phone was back in its cradle, he was out of his seat, grabbing for the suitcoat neatly hung on the real mahogany stand in the corner of his office in the Federal Building. Outside the window the view plunged precipitously, a fifteen-floor drop into the Tenderloin. It was Special Agent
room as soon as they returned. Garrett and Landauer headed across the lobby, an expanse of polished stone that had earned the relatively new, glass-and-granite building the nickname “the Marble Palace.” Just before they stepped into the elevator, Garrett got the call: the State Police responding that there were no females of Jane Doe’s age range reported missing in the state in the last week. Garrett punched off, shaking his head at Landauer, who mumbled an expletive. Malloy was already in the
graves, Garrett pulled the envelope from his pocket and examined it. It was a CD in a white sleeve, with Erin’s name written on it. The CD inside was unmarked. Garrett strode faster to overtake the bassist. “Danny,” he called. The young man turned around, and looked startled to see Garrett. He stopped beside a tomb and waited, with a hunch in his shoulders, as Garrett caught up. Garrett stopped in front of him, smiled, spread his hands as he glanced back toward the grave site. “I thought you
crossed on the door. For no reason that he could think of, he got out of the car and moved up on the sidewalk to stand just before the porch stairs. The cornstalks were still lashed to the porch columns and Garrett wondered briefly what Palmer and Morelli and the other officers had made of that. There was a stirring of wind, and then he felt an eerie sense of presence behind him, the visceral sensation of being watched. Garrett turned quickly— —to see a flash of pale skin, a shock of fiery
have his copy, he had his copy in the trunk of his car. “I think we might have a look at it, then,” Selena said, and Garrett was not even surprised that she’d read his mind. The two women set the copied book on a long oak table in what Garrett supposed was a dining hall. The chairs were medieval-looking, with lions’ paws for armrests and feet, and tapestries and marble friezes were hung on the walls. The women stood over the table with the stack of pages in front of them and studied them, and