No Woods So Dark as These by Randall Silvis

No Woods So Dark as These

No Woods So Dark as These (Ryan DeMarco Book 4) by Randall Silvis
English | 2020 | Mystery/Thriller | ePUB | 2.4 MB

There are good reasons to fear the dark…

Former Sergeant Ryan DeMarco’s life has been spent in defiance—he’s defied death, loneliness, and betrayal all while fighting the worst parts of humanity. He’s earned a break, and following the devastation of their last case, DeMarco and his girlfriend Jayme want nothing more than to live quietly in each other’s company. To forget the horrors they’ve experienced and work on making each other whole again.

But dreams of a peaceful life together are shattered when two bodies are discovered in a smoldering car in the woods, and another is found brutally mutilated nearby. Much as he’d like to leave the case to his former colleagues, dark forces are at play and DeMarco cannot escape the vortex of lies, betrayal, and desperation. He and Jayme are dragged back into the fray, where they must confront the shady dealings of a close-knit rural community.

He had been told there were some big whitetails in these woods. Plus black bear, coyote, maybe some bobcats too. It was unlikely they would encounter any of those predators, and the weather was too cold for the copperheads and rattlers, but the gray and red foxes would not be as skittish, nor the wild turkey, hawks and bald eagles. He wanted his sons to learn to identify them all, learn to be comfortable in the woods, not afraid of nature as so many kids were these days. “That’s what’s wrong with society,” his own father had told him. “You spend your whole life hiding indoors, you’re going to end up with a soul the size of a raisin.”

The October morning was gray and damp, with a cool mist that made the windshield wipers necessary, but the cab was warm, there was plenty of Gatorade and beef jerky to go around, and the boys, dressed in new rubber camo boots and bright orange jackets, were excited about picking out their hunting grounds for the first day of buck season. Under the Game Commission’s Mentored Youth Hunting Program, the nine-year-old was of legal age to hunt, but his father disagreed, and though he would permit his youngest to accompany them into the woods in November, he did not think it rational that an instrument engineered for death should be placed in the hands of a child so young.

He considered himself a good father and believed that only fierce love and vigilance could protect his sons from the increasing evil of the world. His single point of annoyance with his wife was that she often took her eyes off the boys at the mall and elsewhere, would try on dresses, for example, while their sons wandered off on their own. He agreed with her that boys had to be given some freedom but insisted that as parents their job was always to watch from a safe distance, to remain always alert to the possibility of harm. So when, earlier that month, the youngest boy, influenced by his classmates, had begged and begged to be allowed to hunt this year, and his mother had shrugged, his father, who had hunted with his own father from the age of twelve to twenty-three, had conceded in part, and said that he and the older son would hunt and that the younger boy would be their spotter—“an honor,” he told him, “not to be taken lightly.”

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