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Worry flicked across Lane’s lean, nervous face and he looked down at his feet. There, in the center of the hallway, lay a blue gray cotton glove. When he picked it up, Lane again smelled that faint odor. Suddenly he recognized it.
It was a pallbearer’s glove that he had found and from it came the stench of moist earth and sickening perfume. The odor of the grave!
Jamming his first clue into his pocket, Lane ran into the room at his right and then stopped abruptly.
As many times as the detective had witnessed death, his stomach retched at the sight before him. Gordon was sprawled on the floor, rigid and staring. His once-dapper clothes were ripped about the throat. The flesh beneath his jaw was blue and swollen. But it was the face which held Lane’s gaze. Surprise, horror and disbelief were mirrored there so strongly that even death had not erased them.
Lane stepped forward with a shudder. He looked quickly about for some telltale bit of evidence, but nothing untoward rewarded him.
From the street came the noise of sirens and screeching brakes, heralding the arrival of the wagon and the coroner. With them, Lane knew, would come the newshawks and cameramen. He dreaded their arrival more than he did the prospects of solving this second murder. It was certain that a few more scathing articles such as those which had recently appeared would ruin Terry Lane’s promising career.
Terry Lane
Detective Terry Lane is a standout homicide cop who thought he d seen it all…until now. As tough as Eliot Ness of The Untouchables and just as incorruptible Lane has seen the darkest side of human behavior. But he s never seen a murder spree like this, targeting the wealthy, the powerful and the privileged. For the evidence is clear: the killers have not emerged from the seamy underside of the city…but from six feet under it. They are the walking dead, spreading terror and showing no mercy. Following a trail of drugs, blackmail, and the twisted clues of a seductive nightclub singer, Detective Lane will have to think outside the box…or he could end up inside one, buried alive.
In 1934, while living in New York, the heart of the publishing industry, Hubbard struck up a friendship with the city s medical examiner a relationship that started his education in undetectable crime and provided him with authoritative clinical background for his detective stories.
“A rollicking horror yarn [that] taps into the current craze for zombies…. heart-pounding.” Publishers Weekly
* An International Book Awards Winner
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Genre - Mystery/Zombie
Rating – PG13
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Website http://www.galaxypress.com/
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