The Haunting of Pru Maddox (The Haunted #1) Read Online Tonya Burrows

Categories Genre: Romance, Suspense, Thriller Tags Authors: Series: The Haunted Series by Tonya Burrows
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>118
Advertisement

Expert:

A beacon of light…
Undercover DEA agent Alex Brennan absolutely refuses to believe in the paranormal, despite his military buddies’ claims he is a latent psychic. He doesn’t want to think about his crazy, unnerving dreams, but when he makes a horrible mistake on the job, he becomes desperate for a sense of peace. Leaving his dual life in Boston, he’s inexplicably drawn north to the mysterious lighthouse in Three Churches, Maine, where he finds calming familiarity and comfort in the arms of the lighthouse’s keeper, Pru Maddox.
A whisper of memory…
A string of deadly misfortune has long plagued Pru’s family, and while Alex doubts her belief that a ghost called The Green Lady cursed her lighthouse, he can’t deny something is wrong in the small coastal town. Disappearances, suicides, and accidents begin to pile up around town, and as their simmering passion intensifies, Alex’s dreams become violent, frightening, and very real.
A curse of darkness…
To keep Pru safe, Alex must face up to his latent abilities and unravel the mystery surrounding the lighthouse. Except someone—or something—wants the past to stay buried… and will do anything to keep it that way.

Previously published as Vision of Darkness

Full Book:

PROLOGUE

Ever since John “Cappy” Putnam’s doc handed down the diagnosis of Alzheimer’s, he’d spent the better part of the past year waiting to die. The grim reaper had his number and he was next in line, though this wasn’t exactly how he imagined it would happen. Cappy figured his arthritic legs would give out as he walked down the stairs and he’d take a nasty tumble. Or his old heart would just stop pumping in his sleep and he’d go quietly into that dark night. Or maybe his brain, rotting away in his skull, would forget to tell his tar-coated lungs to breathe.

Never figured on being murdered.

But he kind of liked the idea. Blaze-of-glory and all that.

Just too damn bad nobody in town would listen to him before it happened.

The porch’s weathered floorboards creaked as Cappy settled into his old rocker and laid a rifle across his lap, a Winchester given to him by his father when he was a boy. He had planned to pass it down to his two boys when they came of age, but John Jr. showed no interest in hunting and Wade, bless him, was too damn slow to be trusted with a butter knife, not to mention a rifle. So here sat the old gun, waiting with him. Come to think of it, it was a perfect ending for them both.

He scratched a match on the side of his chair. The flame hissed and flickered across a face that he knew had never been handsome and that had only gotten uglier with age. His final cigar fired to life between his lips and he puffed on it until the end smoldered and sweet smelling smoke curled into the night air. His sons had been afraid the cigars would end him. Oh, if only they knew how wrong they were.

Wouldn’t be long now.

Cappy inhaled, sighed, and fell into the comfortable habit of smoking as if he had never quit. Guilt nipped for breaking his promise to his boys but—well, hell, a man had the right to enjoy one last victory dance.

Death was coming, surrounding him. One if by land and two if by sea. He smirked at that thought.

Soon footsteps would pound up the wood stairs beside the lighthouse, coming up from the beach. Soon they’d ghost around the edge of his yard, slipping ever closer, but he refused to run. He may be old, his joints may be rusted, and yes, perhaps he had lost a few marbles over the years like everyone in town claimed, but he’d be damned before he let them silence him without putting up a fight.

Oh, he’d miss the keeper’s dwelling, the lighthouse, and the Green Lady, his constant and malicious ghost. Imagined she was off somewhere dancing a happy jig to know she’d soon be rid of him. He could see her almost, up on the lighthouse catwalk, dancing. The night had gone mute, too late in the year for crickets, too chilly for other nocturnal creatures to scurry far from their homes, and her laughter whispered over the grounds. The trouble she’d cause once he died…

Well, not much he could do about it now.

A pair of headlights punctured the blanket of night at the bottom of the hill, pinpricks at first. Ah, so they’d chosen to arrive by car instead. Should have figured on that.

Cappy scratched at his beard, continued to rock back and forth, back and forth. His old heart stayed calm, gnarled hands steady on the Winchester. Going down with the ship was every captain’s dream. His vessel was a land-bound lighthouse, but that made him no less proud to be going down with her tonight.


Advertisement

<<<<1231121>118

Advertisement


Advertisement