Dark Rites

Isaac Sherman—man whose wife went missing

Law Enforcement

David Barnes—detective with Boston PD

Jim Tracy—sketch artist

Wendell Harper—Massachusetts State Police

Robert Merton—detective from Bristol, Rhode Island

Cole Magruder—detective from Fall River, Massachusetts

Charlie Oakley—retired detective in

Fall River, Massachusetts

Contents

Cover (#uc414b308-c655-586c-838a-8c73f9423a4e)

Back Cover Text (#uf17a8bb7-e22e-5f54-b58c-881334312eaa)

Praise (#u7e116575-7d8c-5949-8470-eccaff226281)

Title Page (#ub9b7127d-f51b-5dc4-8e8a-d19ab85b7883)

Dedication (#u090f021f-2dd1-5f44-bee0-344cf45f08db)

CAST OF CHARACTERS (#ue5c8d9b9-e16e-58e1-ab7d-9f6931e621dd)

Prologue (#ubbaad2b4-2e8a-5ff7-a00e-a5998e313fee)

Chapter 1 (#u580bff37-d917-5d33-b905-ddbbb7643970)

Chapter 2 (#u254148ea-3720-5775-a7cd-f4b2a1c5ee30)

Chapter 3 (#ua8049ba4-e684-5725-b0e7-317361cff324)

Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgments (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#ue5f9d501-84dd-5545-9b48-69a2d53a00d8)

Alex Maple wasn’t sure, as he first became aware of himself, if he was alive or dead.

He was miserable; he knew that.

Alive—he had to be alive to hurt in so many places.

He hadn’t opened his eyes. Slowly, he tried to do so. At first, he thought about the Undertakers—the duo of kidnapping killers who had recently terrorized Boston. He was probably buried—deep in the earth, in a hole, in a Dumpster, in newly poured roadwork...

No. When he opened his eyes, there was light.

Too much light, maybe. Looking around, he realized that he wasn’t buried. The harsh light of a naked bulb filled the room where he lay.

He tried to move; he sat up. He saw that he was on a gurney. The walls had once been painted that awful sickly green color that graced most of the country’s hospitals. Paint was peeling; dust and dirt covered the floors; spiderwebs were visible around the hanging lightbulb. There were several other gurneys in the large room—four or five of them. Scattered throughout and by the gurneys were tables, some made out of wood, some that appeared to be newer, made of stainless steel.

There were tools on those tables. Knives, clamps, more—instruments that resembled those used by doctors years and years ago, some not so different now. He narrowed his eyes to study the one set.

From the 1800s, so it seemed: bullet extractor, amputation knife, saw, cervical dilator, lithotome, scarficator and trephine, among others he couldn’t quite see.

Surgical instruments—the trephine for creating gouges in the skull.

And the strange shadowy color on some of the tables...

Dried blood.

He quickly turned to look at another table. Instruments for lobotomy, he thought—the controversial procedure invented by a Portuguese neurologist in the 1940s, known to create as many side effects as the initial mental problem, almost stripping the soul from a man.