by Ronald Lamont (Author)

Slaughter County; the name conjures up all sorts of disturbing images. In reality, nothing noteworthy ever happens in this quiet hamlet - not if you're a homicide detective anyway.

Not until that fateful autumn evening ...

The midnight sky was pitch-black, save for a sliver of a crescent moon overhead. Off in the distance emanated the lights of the city, oblivious to the darkness of this deed.

A face suddenly appeared upon the reflection of the glass as the flame was lit - it was the face of vengeance - the face of evil.

A phone call was made just as the match ignited its means to an end. A groggy, barely audible "Hello" reverberated through the phone.

"Click" and the phone met its fate in the fledgling fire.

As the inferno began to spread a single act remained ...

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