The Dollmaker
Twilight always fell anxiously over the Big Easy, es-pecially when it rained. That's when the ghosts came out. A wisp of steam rising from the wet pavement. The murmur of voices from a hidden courtyard. Something dark and stealthy moving in the shadows, and sud-denly you were reminded of a past that wouldn't stay buried.
New Orleans was like that. A city of memories, Dave Creasy always called it. A city of secrets and whispers and the kind of regret that could eat a man up inside. Like the wrong woman, she'd get in a man's blood, destroy his soul, make him feel alive and dead at the same time. And on a hot, rainy night—when the ghosts came out—it could be the loneliest place on earth.
Welcome back, a voice whispered in Dave's head as he lifted his face, eyes closed, and listened to the rus-tle of rain through the white oleanders that drooped over a crumbling brick wall along St. Peters.
It was strange how the city could still seduce him.
He'd been born and raised in New Orleans, and like everyone else he knew, there'd been a time when he couldn't wait to get out. Now he couldn't seem to stay away. The ghosts wouldn't let him.
A car ... read full excerpt from The Dollmaker ebook
