Lost Girls: A Sherry Moore Novel

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		Lost Girls: A Sherry Moore Novel
		Lost Girls: A Sherry Moore Novel

基本信息·出版社：Pocket Star
·页码：336 页
·出版日期：2009年06月
·ISBN：1416553045
·International Standard Book Number：1416553045
·条形码：9781416553045
·EAN：9781416553045
·装帧：简装
·正文语种：英语
·丛书名：Sherry Moore

内容简介 在线阅读本书

George D. Shuman returns! In his eagerly anticipated new thriller, blind psychic Sherry Moore combs the Caribbean to find the murderous kingpin of a human trafficking network and finds that she must confront a man who shares her talent for seeing the final moments of a dead body's life.
作者简介 George D Shuman is author of Lost Girls, Last Breath, and 18 Seconds. A retired twenty-year veteran of the Washington, D.C., Metropolitan Police Department, he resides in the mountains of southwest Pennsylvania, where he now writes full-time. To learn more, visit his website at www.georgedshuman.com.
文摘 1

Denali, Alaska

Raw winds hailed lacerating ice, stinging earlobes and ruddy cheeks beneath the climbers' black snow goggles. The storm had an under-growl that suggested it was both alive and malevolent.

It came out of nowhere as polar storms do, the clockwise rotation of Pacific highs meeting counterclockwise Siberian lows, fusing to form a cyclone in ancient cauldrons of granite and glacier. Mountains the size of Denali virtually produce their own weather.

Allison Metcalf descended the headwall below the summit clipped to a fixed line, testing the ice with crampons on the toes of her boots. The well-trod western approach was quickly vanishing under their feet, transmuting into an alien environment of wind-sculpted ice. She took another step and then another, trying to quell the rise of panic. Only three hours ago they had stood on top of the Western Hemisphere. Now they were in a race for their lives to get beneath it.

The spatial world was no more. There were no more ups and downs, no rights or lefts. One could reach out an arm and not see the glove beyond the wrist. If any of the climbers were to unclip from the fixed line, even for a moment, it was doubtful they would find it again; more likely they would wander off the side of the mountain or fall into one of the hundreds of bottomless crevices of prehistoric ice.

"You okay?" Sergio's voice caught faintly on the wind. He was below her, but still close, only a dozen feet away. Was he straggling to look out for her?

"Okay," she yelled, but the words evaporated with a blast of chilled air. She tugged gently on the line tethered between them and a moment later she felt his acknowledgment. It felt good, this tangible connection to another human being.

If they could at least descend to high camp at 17,000 feet, they might survive the night in the uppermost cradle of the summit. The poor buggers above Archdeacon's Tower had yet to negotiate an exposed knife-edged r
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