From OLD-FASHIONED DETECTIVE WORK, copyright 2009 by Devon Ellington. Cannot be excerpted or reproduced without permission of author.
“Again, Mr. Collins,” said
Wyatt. “What can I do for you?” “When
did you last see Jain Lazarus?” “We
spent a four day weekend together about six weeks ago in Vermont.” “Have
you spoken to her since?” “I
left a few messages on her voice mail, but I haven’t heard back.” “Yes,
we know that. We have her phone.” Wyatt
felt a chill run down his spine. “Why
would you have her phone?” “Was
she in good health when you parted?” “We
went skiing in the morning. We went back
to change. She got a phone call – on the
landline, not her cell, and said she had to go.
She left before I did.” “Interesting.” “Why?” “No
one’s seen or heard from her since that weekend in Vermont.” “Are
you looking for her?” “Yes. She was due in our office the very next
morning to get briefed on a new assignment.
The proprietor of the inn tells a different story.” “What
do you mean?” “He
says the two of you left in the morning, but you came back alone.” “That’s
not true.” “And
there’s no record of a call going through to your room.” “That
doesn’t make sense.” “Did
you argue with Jain that weekend?’ “No. We had a great time.” “Don’t
lie to me, Detective. I’m every bit as
capable of discerning a liar as you are.” “Then
you know I’m telling the truth.” “Either
that or you’re even more talented than Jain believed. You are the last person we know who saw Jain
before her disappearance.” OLD-FASHIONED DETECTIVE WORK's release is on hold as we complete negotiations to change publishers. Stay tuned.
From "First Feet", copyright 2009 by Devon Ellington. Cannot be excerpted or reproduced without permission of author.
Billy frowned. He distinctly remembered that Hank told him he was headed back to the room. That was -- Billy wasn't sure how long ago it was, but Hank left well before midnight. He remembered watching Hank leave the party in the common room, wishing they'd at least be in the same room at the stroke of midnight, but not wanting to leave the party himself.
Hank never made it back to the room.
Hank never made it back to the room.
Billy felt panic rise up as a chill ran down his spine. The two sensations met at his mid-section, holding him in their collusive grip like a vise. Hank was reliable; that was one of the resons Billy, who tended to be scattered when he wasn't focused on a role or some specific item to study, was paired with him. Hank was a grounding force.
Where should Bily start his search? Go building-by-building? The grounds? The bestiary? The attics? The basements, nicknamed "the dungeons"? The Forbidden Tower? It made sense to start in one place and work his way methodically. But how could he do it by himself? And who could he call at two in the morning? Should he go to the faculty apartments and wak up Thaddius Bowker, the combat instructor, who already thought he was a moron? Or Natalie French, the automatic writing teacher only a year or two older than Billy, who'd been kind to him, but distant? By the way, weren't hey in a compound full of psychics? Shouldn't someone know something was wrong?
Jain. He'd call Jain.
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From "The Possession of Nattie Filmore", copyright 2008. Cannot be excerpted or reproduced without permission of author:
"I'm surprised you called me." Wyatt East folded his arms across his chest and stared at Jain Lazarus.
Jain barely hesitated as she rummaged through the pack resting in the trunk of her car. She glanced at him and then away, hoping the hurt didn't show in her eyes. "Your territory. I thought you should know. Plus, now that you've got some experience with the preternatural . . ."
"What are we dealing with?"
"Sounds like a straight-up ghost to me." Jain turned and trusted that she had enough self-possession to look him right in the eye. "Old house abandoned for years because of disturbances. A few different owners in the last dozen years or so, but no one can stay more than a few weeks because it's so disconcerting. Objects moving, cold spots, footsteps heard late at night. And the appearance, lately, of a small boy with large eyes."
"You're talking about the Dempsey place over on Cassidy Pike."
"Yes. You know it?"
"Been abandoned since I was a kid. We used to go there and see who'd get so scared to run first."
"I bet you were never first."
Wyatt smiled. "You'd win that bet. But I always ran, eventually."
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From HEX BREAKER, copyright 2008. Cannot be excerpted or reproduced without permission of author.
"You cut off a man's head, Ms. Lazarus," Wyatt East said. "I have to ask you questions."
It was several hours later, and they were in the small police interrogation room. Jain looked up at him, watching him pace back and forth across the room, and folded her arms on the table. "I understand that, and I'm willing to answer anything, but we need to get to the hospital or Dennis will wind up in the same shape as Mike."
"Headless?"
"If we don't get to him in time."
"Since you're the one who decapitated Mike, I'm not so sure I should let you near Dennis."
"If you let me near him fast enough, I won't need to decapitate him."
"So you admit that you would?"
"If necessary."
"And why would it be necessary?"
"By the time I separated Mike's head from his body, there wasn't anything of Mike left. I saw it snuff out. He was completely under his handler's control. Whoever his handler is."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Wyatt slammed his palm on the metal desk.
"Detective East, your carefully planned gestures don't intimidate me. I deal with much more dangerous factions every day than annoyed cops."
"Maybe you should give me some information about who you really are and what you really do and I won't be such an annoyed cop."
HEX BREAKER is currently out of print. Stay tuned for info on its re-release with a new publisher!