Divine Evil
Nora Roberts
Language: English
Pages: 576
ISBN: 0553294903
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Bestselling author Nora Roberts dazzles once again with a powerful tale of passion, murder, and small-town scandal. In this classic novel, a woman returns to the home she left behind, to a past that is waiting to kill her....
A decade ago, sculptor Clare Kimball fled Emmitsboro, Maryland, to take the art world by storm. Now she’s celebrated as the artist of her generation. But no amount of success can eclipse the nightmares that haunt her—or the memories of her father’s suicide. Just as her star is shining brighter than ever, Clare leaves it all behind to face her demons.
Emmitsboro sheriff Cameron Rafferty loved Clare from afar all through high school. Now that she’s back, they form a bond that grows stronger each day—fueled by an attraction that’s been simmering for years. But Clare’s past soon rises up with a vengeance, rocking the town with a sinister murder that is clearly linked to her return. As an investigation gets under way, Clare and Cameron will learn that evil can linger anywhere—even in those you love and trust the most. But it’s a discovery that may come too late to save them.…
was haying your ma's field, just like we told you, then we smelled it—” “Shut the fuck up, July.” Chip passed a hand over his sweaty brow. “What do you want us to do, Sheriff?” “I'd appreciate it if you'd go into the office and give your statements.” He took out a cigarette, hoping the taste of smoke would clean his mouth. “Did either of you touch her?” “No, sir. Nosirree.” July hopped again. “Shit, she was a mess, wasn't she? Did you see all them flies?” “Shut the fuck up, July,” Cam said
Baffled, Cam shined his light in her face. “Take a good look,” she invited. “Come on, Rafferty, don't you recognize me?” He played the light over her features. It was her eyes, gold and glowing with unholy amusement, that jogged his memory. “Clare? Clare Kimball?” He gave a shout of laughter. “I'll be a sonofabitch.” “Yeah, that's the truth.” He grinned at her. “Well, welcome home, Slim.” Chapter 4 “SO HOW THE HELL are you, Clare?” They were sitting on the front porch steps drinking
what waitressing was required in a tight T-shirt and tighter jeans. She scooped up tips and propositions with equal relish. Cam knew it was a ritual, coming here, nursing one dark beer and smoking too much. Listening to the same songs, hearing the same voices, smelling the same smells. And there was a comfort in it, knowing Clyde would always stand behind the bar, snarling at his customers. The Budweiser clock on the wall would always be ten minutes slow, and the potato chips would always be
bitter tears of terror. There were faces he knew, shadowed by the hoods, hidden by masks. His eyes darted from one to the other, panicked and pleading. “Fucking Christ, I was drunk.” “You have defiled the Law,” the leader repeated. His voice held no mercy and no passion-though the passion was rising in him, a black, boiling sea. “You have shown that you cannot hold to it. You are weak, and the weak shall be smote by the strong.” The bell was rung. Over Biff's sobs and curses, the leader lifted
bus, pregnant with children, stopped at the corner with a belch and a wheeze to offload. The race was on for bikes, for cartoons, for catcher's mitts. “There's Ernie.” Clare spotted him standing at the edge of her driveway. “The model for the arm,” she explained. “He seems to be waiting for you,” Jean-Paul commented. “He hangs around sometimes. He's lonely.” She smiled and waved. “I don't think he gets along with his parents. They haven't even bothered to come take a look at the sculpture.”