Ghost Road Blues (Pine Deep 1)

Karl Ruger was dead.

“Jesus Christ,” Crow said, and then he struggled to his knees and reached across the corner of the bed toward her just as her eyes lost their focus and rolled up in their sockets. With a soft sigh she passed out and sagged down on the bed. Whimperin

g in fear, Crow crawled over the bed to her and pressed his ear to her chest, not breathing at all until he heard the steady thump-?thump-?thump of her heart.

“Thank God!” he breathed and kissed her over her heart and then kissed her sweet face. “Thank God…. ”

Outside, there were yells and an official voice—Frank Ferro, Crow thought—was yelling, “Police! Police! Out of the way!” Footsteps were hurrying, getting louder, coming closer.

A hand clamped around his wrist with implacable force and Crow turned in absolute horror to see Karl Ruger leering up above the footrest, his eyes wide and red and hellish.

With irresistible force he pulled himself up and pulled Crow close and whispered in his graveyard voice, “Ubel Griswold sends his regards. ” Then he laughed the coldest laugh Crow had ever heard and the red light went out of his eyes and Karl Ruger sank back to the floor.

Crow was frozen there, his eyes wide and unblinking, his heart beating painfully in his chest, mouth agape as the horror of those five words plunged his entire world into madness.