Night Corridor

NIGHT CORRIDOR

By Joan Hall Hovey

ISBN: 978-1-926965-54-3

PUBLISHED BY:

Books We Love Publishing Partners (BWLPP)

192 Lakeside Greens Drive

Chestermere, Alberta, T1X 1C2

Canada

Copyright © 2011 by Joan Hall Hovey

Cover art by Gary Val Tenuta Copyright © 2011

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Praise for Joan Hall Hovey's novels

CHILL WATERS

"…a stunning, multi-layered, modern-day gothic, told with the unforgettable style and grace of a true master of suspense…"

—
Rendezvous Magazine

"…a chilling hold-your-breath-as you-turn-the-pages novel of such depth and credibility, it's hard to remember that it's fiction and won't be headlined in the daily news…"

—
Evelyn Gale, All About Murder Reviews.

"…a well-written suspense that will have your locking doors, turning on all the lights…"

—
Hattie Boyd, Scribes World

"…as good a thriller as I have ever read…a superb tale of terror and suspense that puts her right up there with the likes of Sandford and Patterson…"

—
Ingrid Taylor for Small Press Review

"…Fans of Mary Higgins Clark will enjoy this author! I was on the edge of my seat the entire time …Great story…"

Detra Fitch, Huntress Book Reviews

A winner!! With her usual ability, the talented author has caught the sense of menace and carried it throughout…a taut, chilling tale..Highly recommended."

—
Anne K. Edwards, BookReviews.net

"…a taut thriller that combines well-drawn vivid characters with an engaging plot? …a magnetically likeable heroine…Rachael's transformation from walking wounded to feisty survivor will leave you cheering."

—
Kristin Johnson, Myshelf.com

"Joan Hall Hovey clearly takes her place among today's contemporary writers as this page-turner can compete with any mystery novel on the shelves…"

—
Linda Hersey, Fredericton Gleaner.

NOWHERE TO HIDE—EPPIE AWARD WINNER

"…will keep readers holding their breath until the very end…"

—
In the library review, Melissa Parcel

"This one is a chiller—you won't be able to put it down—guaranteed!"

—
Rendezvous Magazine

"If you are looking for the suspense thriller of the year-look no further…you will find it in Nowhere To Hide…"

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Jewel Dartt Midnight Scribe Reviews

"…Not since Silence of the Lambs have I slept with my lights on. Buy it! Read it! (But not in a house by yourself)."

—
JD Masters

"…will scare the wits out of you…an exciting work starring a brave yet vulnerable heroine."

—
Harriet Klausner

"…a thriller release from the pen of the very talented writer, Joan Hall Hovey, who once again demonstrates her ever-increasing skill at designing tales of psychological suspense and terror."

—
Jill M. Smith – Rave Reviews

"Wow! Riveting from the prologue to the hair-raising conclusion. Highly Recommended."

—
Cindy Penn, Wordweaving.com

"…Joan Hall Hovey is a mistress at description and in bringing characters alive…a chiller of a book…"

—
Shirley Truax, Ivy Quill Reviews

"…a taut, edge of the seat thriller…certain to inspire readers who love the thriller genre to demand more from this writer."

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Patti Nunn—Charlotte Austin Review

"…Start reading this book on a Saturday morning. That way, you'll have all weekend to read it, since you won't want to put it down."

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Martine G. Bates Inscriptions magazine

"Extremely well structured, good plot, impossible to put down until the last page is reached."

—
BASTULLI MYSTERY LIBRARY

"…highly professional thriller…more than a series of twists and turns…"

—
E.E. Cran—Telegraph Journal

"A fast moving suspense thriller, it will keep you up all night to finish it…"

—
Kathy Thomason Book Reviewer The Butler County Post

"…a riveting thriller that will leave you breathless. Hovey is a master of this genre…"

—
Deborah Shlian, Author of Wednesday's Child, Shou

"…a gripping style that wrings emotions from everyday settings. Oh and by the way …is your door locked?"

—
Linda Hersey—Fredericton Gleaner

LISTEN TO THE SHADOWS

"Joan Hall Hovey packs a terrifying punch as her first novel, 'Listen to the Shadows', spins a chilling tale of revenge, murder and madness…"

—
Jill M. Smith—Rave Reviews, N.Y.

"…will appeal to fans of romance, gothic and suspense novels. Hovey's scenes focusing on this deranged psychopath are razor sharp, and one is reminded of author Ruth Rendell."

—
Evening Times Globe, Saint John, NB

"LISTEN TO THE SHADOWS has shades of the old gothic stories, complete with the scary old house. This story has the makings of a classic."

—
Reviewer, Yvonne Hering

"…This one will put goosebumps all over you…chilling. I read it during a thunderstorm and found myself jumping several times. Excellent!"

—
Huntress Book Reviews

"Written with the finesse and grace of a master …a powerful new voice in the world of suspense and mystery…"

—
Cindy Penn—Wordweaving.com

"Have you ever read a book that grabs your attention by the first sentence and never lets go? LISTEN TO THE SHADOWS is exciting, tensed, with elements of mystery, fear, and courage so masterfully woven in one masterpiece that I can't believe this is the author's debut! Grab a copy now, or you'll be missing a great read…"

—
Defelah Morgan—Reviewer's Choice Award

"In Listen to the Shadows, Ms. Hovey gives us a chilling, and very believable, insight into the mind and motivations of a true sociopathic killer…a spine-tingler of the first order…"

—
Sharpwriter.com—Novelist, Ariana Overton …Author of Tapestry

"…This is a book that will stick with me for a long while, as I was reading it my heart would beat fast and the hair on the back of my neck stood straight, and to me that is the true sign of a good thriller. When you read this one make sure that the lights are on and that all your doors are locked…"

—
Myshelf.com—Pam Stone

"…a work so accomplished, so fluid and so suspenseful it is difficult to believe it really is a first novel!"

—
Felix Griffin—Rave Reviews, NY

ONE

October 1973

He noticed her as soon as he walked into the bar. She was sitting with another girl, a blond; pretty, he supposed, but his attention was riveted on the dark-haired one. He ordered a beer and took a table in the far corner where he had a good view, while he himself was safe from watchful eyes. She had satiny hair to her shoulders, high cheekbones, was slender in a silk print top, black slacks, like a woman on the cover of a magazine. She was laughing at something the blond said, flashing perfect white teeth and his heart tripped. She's the one, the voice told him. Excitement surged through him as he recast her in the movie that for years now, replayed endlessly on the screen of his mind.

When the two women rose to leave, he left his unfinished beer on the table and casually, so as not to draw attention to himself, followed them outside. She had put on a jacket and it shone bright white in the lights from the parking lot.

After chatting briefly, the two girls gave each other a quick hug, then parted and went to their respective cars, parked a good distance from one another. There was a rightness to it. They might just as easily have come in one car, or parked closer to one another. But they did not. The stars were finally lining up in his favor.

He came up behind her as she was fitting the key in the lock of the red Corvair. "I'm Buddy," he said softly, so as not to frighten her. Despite his best intention, she whirled around, eyes wide. "Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. What do you want?"

He felt the smile on his face falter. A mask, crumbling. "I just want to talk to you."

"Fuck off, okay? I'm not interested."

With those words, her beauty vanished, as if he'd imagined it. Her mouth was twisted and ugly. Disappointment weighed heavy on him. Anger boiled up from his depths.

"That was wrong of you to say that to me," he said, still speaking quietly.

Belying the softness of his voice, she saw something in his eyes then and he saw that she did, and when she opened her mouth to scream, he stuck her full in the face with his fist.

She slid down the side of the car as if boneless. He caught her before she hit the ground, then dragged her around to the other side of the car, blocking her with his own body in case someone saw them. Not that he was too concerned. If anyone did see them they would just figure she was his girlfriend and that she'd had one too many. But there was no one in the lot. Even her friend had already driven off.

He lowered her limp form to the ground while he hurried round to the driver's side and got the key out of the door. He put on his gloves, and opened the passenger door. After propping her up in the seat, he went back around and slid into the driver's side. Then he turned on the ignition and the car hummed to life.

Shifting the car into reverse, he backed out of the parking spot. He gave the wheel a hard turn and she fell against him, her hair brushing his face and filling his senses with her shampoo, something with a hint of raspberry. He pushed her off him and her head thunked against the passenger window. A soft moan escaped her, but she didn't wake.

He drove several miles out of the city, then turned left onto a rutted dirt road and stayed on it for a good ten minutes. Spotting a clearing leading into the woods, an old logging road no longer used, he eased the car in, bumping over dips and tangled roots. He went in just far enough not to be seen from the road on the off-chance someone drove by, but also taking care he wouldn't get stuck in here.

The headlights picked out the white trunks of spruce trees, spot-lighting the leaves that seconds later receded into blackness, as if this were merely a stage set.

Beside him, the woman moaned again then whimpered, her hand moving to her face where he had struck her. Blood trickled darkly down one corner of her mouth and her eyes fluttered open. He knew the instant she sensed him there beside her, like the bogeyman in a nightmare. Except she was awake now. When she turned to look at him he felt her stiffen, could see in her eyes that she knew she was in big trouble. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

"Who are you?" she croaked, more blood leaking from the corner of her mouth, eyes wet with tears.

"What does it matter?"

"Please…please don't hurt me. I'm—I'm sorry for what I said to you. I shouldn't have. If you want to… I mean, it's okay. You don't have to hurt…"

His fury was like lava from a volcano and his hand shot out, the back of it shutting off her words in mid-sentence. "Shut up, whore."

She was crying hard now, heavy, hiccupy sobs, helpless, terrified. But her tears meant nothing to him. She was right to be afraid. He slid the knife from its sheath that hung on his belt and let her see it.