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eBook Category: Horror/Mystery/Crime
eBook Description: The Blood Rose belongs to the Guardian of Gargouille. For a price, a man can use it to resurrect the dead. But let the man who thinks to avoid payment beware. The bargain, once made, is binding beyond death. And broken, triggers a familial curse that manifests at the onset of love. Detective Lucky Lawrence is investigating the discovery of a skeleton found beneath the gazebo on what was once the Montoya Land & Cattle Co. Her only clue is a hand-drawn picture of a rose medallion. The same medallion the new owner, Dr. Navarrone Drago, is wearing when they meet. When asked about the medallion, Navarrone, a dark-skinned man with sapphire eyes and a curious, bison-like hump, begins an account of the Montoya family and the bargain made between patriarch Miguel and the winged horror known as the Guardian of Gargouille.

eBook Publisher: The Fiction Works, Published: http://www.fictionworks.com, 2004
Fictionwise Release Date: April 2004

4 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [395 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [281 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [352 KB] , Portable Document Format (PDF) [1.2 MB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [394 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [300 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [377 KB] , hiebook (KML) [923 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [387 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [324 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [405 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [443 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [535 KB]
Words: 117492
Reading time: 335-469 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Portable Document Format (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"We've got trouble, Lucky."

"What sort of trouble, Sheriff?" Detective L.L. Lawrence II, a.k.a. Lucky Lawrence, frowned as she turned the Ram Charger off Highway 98 and onto the shale-coated road flanked by columns of ancient, moss-draped cypress trees. For ten miles, the private road snaked through wide, flat pastureland dotted with summer-green hammocks of oak, pine and cabbage palms.

It was shady and cool beneath the cypresses, but even with the windows rolled up and the a/c on, Lucky could feel the dampness. It was all encompassing, making the air feel heavy and close, as if everything were wrapped in some sort of invisible winding-sheet.

The microphone squawked and she heard Roger Danforth take a deep breath. "There was an escape from the Union Correctional Institution at Raiford a couple of hours ago. Clell Trueax."

The shale was rutted from the almost daily afternoon thunderstorms and in the low spots, black and slippery with mildew. Lucky slowed and downshifted as she made the first of the four sharp turns along the road.

"Raiford is 175 miles from here. The state or local guys will get him before he gets this far south."

"And if they don't? I was there when he threatened you, remember?"

Trueax had a harsh, raspy voice and eyes that were the color and temperature of late autumn frost. He wasn't the sort anyone forgot. "That was sixteen years ago."

Danforth cleared his throat. "Makes no difference. Until he's back in custody, I'm assigning you a partner."

"10-4. Whom shall I expect?"

"Paul Trowbridge."

Lucky gritted her teeth. Trueax would be preferable. "You know how I feel about Trowbridge, Sheriff."

"I don't give a rat's red rectum how you feel about him. Trowbridge is going to watch your back and that's that."

"But--"

"The alternative is protective custody."

"You wouldn't!"

"I just did. Trowbridge is the best I've got, and right now your safety is more important than your personal feelings. Is that clear, Detective?"

Crystal clear. And utterly unacceptable. "Affirmative, Sheriff."

"A word of warning, Lucky. Bury your grievances with Trowbridge, or this time you'll get busted to Traffic. Permanently. Danforth, out."

The words were followed by a hiss of static as Lucky hurled the radio mike onto the floor of the car. Trueax, Trowbridge and a thirty-year-old corpse. It was shaping up to be a hell of a week. And it was only Tuesday.

Lucky braked and downshifted again before going into the second turn. Here the road had been flooded from last night's storm. Stopping at the edge of the water, she locked in the Ram's 4-wheel drive before continuing. The last thing she needed was to have to dig herself out while coping with the humidity and mosquitoes that were the hallmarks of June in Florida.

Once she had safely navigated the treacherous turn, she mentally checked off the information she'd gathered so far. On Monday, workmen employed by the new owner of what had once been the Montoya Land and Cattle Company discovered a skeletal jigsaw puzzle concealed beneath the raised floor of the rose-enshrouded gazebo. They also found a weathered, stainless steel Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum with a 6-inch barrel. One shot had been fired.

There was no identification with the bones, no clothing, no hint as to how the body had arrived beneath the gazebo. Forensics matched dental records and I.D.'d the remains as Robert James McCutcheon, a detective formerly with the Dixie City Sheriff's Department. The .357 was subsequently identified as the weapon registered to the victim. He'd been missing since April 2, 1971.

McCutcheon had been a single white male, 6 foot 1, 172 pounds, blond hair, blue eyes, thirty-two years old. Considered one of the best detectives in the department, his only family consisted of his widowed mother, Isabel. He had few friends and had broken up with his girlfriend a month before his disappearance. He had been investigating the savage murder of Derek Langford.

Langford, whose throat had been torn out, was the steady boyfriend of Carmen-Lourdes Montoya. Prior to Langford's death, Carmen-Lourdes's father, Ramon, threatened him in front of witnesses. That night, Langford allegedly attempted to rape Carmen-Lourdes, but according to the statement taken by McCutcheon, she was able to fight him off and walked home. She had sworn it was the last time she saw him alive.

Unable, or unwilling, to provide an alibi for himself, Ramon Montoya had been taken into custody, only to be released when his estranged wife, Ann, arrived and avowed she had, in fact, been with him at the time of the murder. Carmen-Lourdes substantiated her stepmother's claim. Ramon Montoya was released from custody shortly before midnight on the 1st of April, and early the following morning, McCutcheon went missing.