By J. A. Jance
Together with his hand trapped within the door of a rushing motor vehicle, a guy struggles to stay upright as he's dragged alongside a abandoned stretch of San Juan street in Phoenix's South Mountain look after. It's the right position to force a guy to his grave -- actually. beginning with a criminal offense so grotesque even prowling coyotes continue their distance from the continues to be, a killer starts off crisscrossing the Southwest on a spree of grisly murders.
100 miles away, Ali Reynolds is grieving. The newscasting activity she as soon as extremely joyful in is long gone and so is the philandering husband she enjoyed and idea she knew. whilst a family member who gave Ali a beneficiant scholarship for her schooling a long time previous by surprise asks her for a gathering, Ali wonders what it might probably suggest. earlier than she will be able to fulfill her interest, even though, Ali gets one other startling name: a friend's teenage daughter has disappeared. Ali bargains to assist, yet in doing so, she unknowingly starts a quest that might show a perilous ring of secrets and techniques, on the heart of which stand undiscriminating killers....
Hand of Evil is Jance at her most sensible, weaving a masterful tale of suspense that travels over generations, revealing very varied ladies with an analogous frightening mystery. Will Ali develop into a sufferer herself, or will she get away from a dangerous deceit that no quantity of protection -- monetary or emotional -- can hide up?
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Additional info for Hand of Evil
Hans,” said Hungertobel, “I don’t understand you.
For a moment the old man thought that he had had enough vodka, but finally he, too, drank. The room spun around for a moment, Gulliver re minded him of a giant bat. Then the room stood still again, only it was a little bit crooked. But that he could take in his stride. “ You knew Nehle,” said Barlach. The giant replied, “ I had dealings with him occa sionally,” and occupied himself with his vodka. Then he started to talk, but now no longer in his former cold, clear voice, but in a strangely singing tone, which became more marked when what he said was ironic or sarcastic, but which was sometimes nevertheless soft and tempered.
I have in the course of my travels through the vari ous camps taken a close look at the torturers, and I know the types. Nehle was quite outstanding in his field. He did not participate in the brutalities of the others. I must ad mit that he helped the prisoners as much as this was pos sible—and as far as help could have a purpose in a camp the only purpose of which was extermination. He was terrifying in a different sense than the other doctors, Commissar. His experiments were not outstanding for their heightened torture.