The lab table islands were all in place, but overturned lab stools were scattered through the room, and she smelled urine so strong it overpowered the vinegar stench. She swept her flashlight beam over tables and shelves, ignoring the old chemistry books and lab manuals sc...
“Shit,” Blakely said when he saw the kid couldn’t have been more than twenty—as young as his own soldiers. “Who the hell are you?” The Shanksborough sheriff hadn’t seemed like the type to send out a boy on a rescue mission. She’d have come herself. So who the hell were the...
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2014 by Greg Shows and Zachary Womack All ...