By Kendra Elliot
Overseas mystery Writers 2014 mystery Award nominee-Best Paperback unique Novel
Eighteen years in the past, Chris Jacobs walked out of the woodland, the lone survivor of a college bus load of youngsters who'd vanished years earlier than. His reminiscence used to be long gone, his physique overwhelmed and emaciated.
Today, the unhappy is still of the lacking little ones were came upon in addition to facts that they have been held captive for years. yet investigative reporter Michael Brody's brother remains to be lacking. He units out to question Chris, hoping his reminiscence has returned.
Constant worry of being chanced on by means of his kidnapper has pushed Chris into hiding. the one lead Michael has is Chris's sister, Jamie. As they race to discover Chris, Michael and Jamie by some means locate one another one of the many years of wreckage. yet finding Chris will not be really easy. Now grown, his scars cross some distance deeper than skin.
In Buried, the following exciting Bone secrets and techniques novel from bestselling writer Kendra Elliot, a broken hero digs deep into his terrifying past…and reveals an opportunity at love for the long run.
Read or Download Buried (Bone Secrets, Book 3) PDF
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Additional info for Buried (Bone Secrets, Book 3)
28 I thought that in one of his pictures the idea was a little clearer, although I myself could not understand it. I have remembered that picture because it caused me to tremble as I looked at it. It showed a very long passage, with low walls, smooth and white. The background suggested that the passage was very far below the surface of the earth, but there was no way out of it that I could see. No lamps were shown, nor any other artifical light; but the whole scene was bathed in a flood of bright light.
It was now midnight, and I had reached the eleventh row — the last row — of stones. In a few minutes only a single stone remained to be fitted in. I struggled with its weight. I placed it partly in position. But now there came from inside a low laugh that made the hairs stand on my head. It was followed by a sad voice, which I could hardly recognize as that of Fortunato. The voice said:'Ha! ha! ha! — a very good joke — an excellent joke. We shall have a good laugh about it — he! he! he! ' I said.
In the end I gave up my attempts to solve the mystery of my anxiety. I left the lake, and went on to the house. The owner of the property, Roderick Usher, had been one of the closest of my childhood friends, but some years had passed since our last meeting. He had recently sent me a very urgent invitation to visit him — had begged me, in fact, to stay with him for several weeks. He wrote that he was suffering from a severe illness, a mental disorder. My companionship, he thought, would cheer him, and bring calm to his troubled thoughts.