City of the Lost (Casey Duncan #1)(66)
I take another step. Then I stop as my stomach lurches.
“Intestines,” I say.
“What?”
“It’s—”
“Fuck. Yeah. I see now.”
He moves closer, his gaze on the ground, watching every step until he’s at the tree. I’m beside him, both of us looking up at about eighteen inches of intestine hanging from the trunk.
KELLEY ARMSTRONG is the internationally bestselling author of the thirteen-book Women of the Otherworld series, the Nadia Stafford crime novels and a new series set in the fictional town of Cainsville, Illinois, which includes the novels Omens, Visions and Deceptions. She is also the author of three bestselling young adult trilogies, and the YA suspense thriller, The Masked Truth. She lives in rural Ontario.
PUBLISHED BY RANDOM HOUSE CANADA Copyright ? 2015 K.L.A. Fricke Inc.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Published in 2015 by Random House Canada, a division of Penguin Random House Canada Limited. Distributed in Canada by Penguin Random House Canada Limited, Toronto.
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Random House Canada and colophon are registered trademarks.
Armstrong, Kelley, author
City of the lost : part four / Kelley Armstrong.
eBook ISBN 978-0-345-81618-4
Cover design by Terri Nimmo
Image credits: Blood ? Funniefarm5 / Dreamstime, foxes ? Airin.dizain / Shutterstock
v3.1
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
About the Author
Previously, in City of the Lost …
By disappearing to Rockton, Casey has successfully shed her dark past. But all is not well—a string of suspicious deaths has set the small community reeling, and local resident Jerry Hastings is still missing.
When Casey and Diana reunite for a drink, they are joined by the handsome deputy, Will Anders. Casey quickly realizes Diana has slept with Anders, a fact Anders wants to forget. Diana lashes out in bitter jealousy—she thinks Anders and Casey are now a couple.
But it’s not Anders but the difficult, brooding sheriff, Eric Dalton, who has been Casey’s rock since the beginning—building her fire, bringing her food—despite his cold, combative nature. Slowly, they gain each other’s trust.
Casey discovers that two women—Irene Prosser and Abbygail Kemp—have been the victims of an extensive cover-up: Irene didn’t commit suicide—she was murdered. And Abbygail, who had a school-girl crush on Eric, would never have wandered into the forest alone. Casey also learns of a mysterious forest-dweller named Jacob.
Then ravens are spotted circling far out in the forest. Casey and Eric rush to the scene, only to find a horrific surprise—fresh, bloodied intestines, nailed high in a tree. The killer has struck again.
One
“Could be from Powys,” Dalton says. We’re staring at a piece of intestine, nailed to a tree trunk deep in the Rockton forest.
I shake my head. “We found Powys’s body the day I got here. This hasn’t started to rot, and it still looks pliant.”
“Pliant,” he repeats, and then nods as if deciding this is indeed the best word. The length of intestine isn’t fresh, but it’s not dried out, either, as it sways slightly in the breeze, the smell of it bringing those scavengers running.
“Hastings, then?” he says.
“I’ll need to take it back to Beth to confirm it’s even human. I’d guess it is, if they nailed it up here. But it’s always possible it’s …”
I trail off. Dalton is turning, with that look on his face that tells me he’s caught some noise, and sure enough, I hear it two seconds later. I could say his hearing is sharper, but I think it’s just better attuned to sorting out what belongs in a peaceful forest and what does not. This does not. I have no idea what I’m actually hearing, only that it sends cold dread up my spine.
The sound comes from the edge of the clearing. We follow it, Dalton with his gun out, and …
And nothing. I still can hear the sound, a cross between a groan and a mewl, and it’s right here. Exactly where we’re standing. Except there’s nothing in sight except trees.
The sound comes again. Dalton’s gaze goes up.
“What the hell?” I say as I follow his lead.
It looks like a sack. It’s attached to the trunk and to a limb and resting partially in the crook between two more. In other words, it’s wedged up in that tree as best it can be.
The noise comes again. And the side of the sack moves.
“There’s, uh, something in it,” I say.
“Yep.”
“Something hurt.”