Detective Craig Cornell is called to a triple-murder at an isolated house near Exeter, New Hampshire, the latest in a sequence of gruesome deaths which stems back 300 years. A White Oak at the rear of the property may hold the key. According to local legend, a woman was accused of witchcraft and hanged from it.
As the bodies pile up, Cornell is haunted by horrific visions. Is it his past catching up with him, or does the tree really hold an ancient, evil spirit?
Staley grimaced and said, “We’ve got three bodies. Hope you haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”
Cornell shook his head. Days like this were supposed to be a bad memory, abandoned in Miami with the rest of his past life. “It’s four in the goddamn morning. Not even had coffee.”
Staley beckoned him into the darkened lounge. It smelled like a slaughterhouse. “Good, because I’ve seen some shit down the years, but nothing like this.”
Both men flicked their flashlights on and scanned the room. Bloody handprints covered the cream-colored walls, sticky black in the harsh white light.
Staley flashed his beam towards a slumped heap on the divan. The shapeless form resembled a bag of butcher’s offcuts, reminding Cornell of a messy roadkill he’d seen years ago, with a wide tire mark across its flank. The impact had pushed the animal’s guts out of its asshole. The matted fur could’ve belonged to any beast. Somehow, he’d known it was a canine. But this was no stray dog….
