Winter Moon [067-037-5.0]
By: Dean R. Koontz
Synopsis:
The #1 bestselling author of Dragon Tears returns with a thriller. A
Hollywood director goes on a killing spree in the streets of L.A. while
an old caretaker on a lonely Montana ranch witnesses a chilling
vision.
Connecting both incidents is policeman Jack McGarvey, who is drawn into
a terrifying confrontation with something unearthly.
Ballantine Books;
ISBN: 0345386108
Copyright 1995
PART ONE.
The City of the Dying Dy.
Beaches, surfers, California girls. Wind scented with fabulous
dreams.
Bougainvillea, groves of oranges. Stars are born, everything gleams.
A weather change. Shadows fall. New scent upon the wind--decay.
Cocaine, Uzis, drive-by shootings. Death is a banker. Everyone
pays.
the Book of Counted Sorrows.
CHAPTER ONE.
Death was driving an emerald-green Lexus. It pulled off the street,
passed the four self-service pumps, and stopped in one of the two
full-service lanes.
Standing in front of the station, Jack McGarvey noticed the car but not
the driver. Even under a bruised and swollen sky that hid the sun, the
Lexus gleamed like a jewel, a sleek and lustrous machine. The windows
were darkly tinted, so he couldn't have seen the driver clearly even if
he had tried.
As a thirty-two-year-old cop with a wife, a child, and a big mortgage,
Jack had no prospects of buying an expensive luxury car, but he didn't
envy the owner of the Lexus. He often remembered his dad's admonition
that envy was mental theft. If you coveted another man's possessions,
Dad said, then you should be willing to take on his responsibilities,
heartaches, and troubles along with his money.
He stared at the car for a moment, admiring it as he might a priceless
painting at the Getty Museum or a first edition of a James M. Cain
novel in a pristine dust jacket--with no strong desire to possess it,
taking pleasure merely from the fact of its existence.
In a society that often seemed to be spinning toward anarchy, where
ugliness and decay made new inroads every day, his spirits were lifted
by any proof that the hands of men and women were capable of producing
things of beauty and quality. The Lexus, of course, was an import,
designed and manufactured on foreign shores, however, it was the entire
human species that seemed damned, not just his countrymen, and evidence
of standards and dedication was heartening regardless of where he found
it.
An attendant in a gray uniform hurried out of the office and approached
