"If you go to the cops, we'll cut her fingers off one by one, and cauterize them as we go. We'll cut her tongue out. And her eyes. Then we'll leave her alone to die as fast or slow as she wants."

The stranger spoke without menace, in a matter-of-fact tone, as if he were not making a threat but were instead merely explaining the details of his business model.

Mitch.e.l.l Rafferty had no experience of such men. He might as well have been talking to a visitor from the far end of the galaxy.

He could not speak because suddenly it seemed that he might so easily, unwittingly say the wrong thing and ensure Holly's death sooner than later.

The kidnapper said, "Just so you'll know we're serious..."

After a silence, Mitch asked, "What?"

"See that guy across the street?"

Mitch turned and saw a single pedestrian, the man walking the slow dog. They had progressed half a block.

The sunny day had a porcelain glaze. Rifle fire shattered the stillness, and the dogwalker went down, shot in the head.

"Midnight Wednesday," said the man on the phone. "We're d.a.m.n serious."

chapter 2.

THE DOG STOOD AS IF ON POINT: ONE FOREPAW raised, tail extended but motionless, nose lifted to seek a scent.

In truth, the golden retriever had not spotted the shooter. It halted in midstep, startled by its master's collapse, frozen by confusion.

Directly across the street from the dog, Mitch likewise stood paralyzed. The kidnapper terminated the call, but Mitch still held the cell phone to his ear.

Superst.i.tion promised that as long as the street remained still, as long as neither he nor the dog moved, the violence might be undone and time rewound, the bullet recalled to the barrel.

Reason trumped magical thinking. He crossed the street, first haltingly, then at a run.

If the fallen man was wounded, something might be done to save him.

As Mitch approached, the dog favored him with a single wag of its tail.

A glance at the victim dispelled any hope that first aid might sustain him until paramedics arrived. A significant portion of his skull was gone.

Having no familiarity with real violence, only with the edited-a.n.a.lyzed-excused-and-defanged variety provided by TV news, and with the cartoon violence in movies, Mitch was rendered impotent by this horror. More than fear, shock immobilized him.

More than shock, a sudden awareness of previously unsensed dimensions transfixed him. He was akin to a rat in a sealed maze, for the first time looking up from the familiar pa.s.sageways and seeing a world beyond the gla.s.s lid, forms and figures, mysterious movement.

Lying on the sidewalk near its master, the golden retriever trembled, whimpered.

Mitch sensed that he was in the company of someone other than the dog, and felt watched, but more than watched. Studied. Attended. Pursued. Pursued.

His heart was a thundering herd, hooves on stone.

He surveyed the day but saw no gunman. The rifle could have been fired from any house, from any rooftop or window, or from behind a parked car.

Anyway, the presence he sensed was not that of the shooter. He did not feel watched from a distance, but from an intimate vantage point. He felt as if someone loomed loomed over him. over him.

Hardly more than half a minute had pa.s.sed since the dogwalker had been killed.

The crack of the rifle had not brought anyone out of any of the beautiful houses. In this neighborhood, a gunshot would be perceived as a slammed door, dismissed even as it echoed.

Across the street, at the client's house, Iggy Barnes had risen from his knees to his feet. He didn't appear to be alarmed, merely puzzled, as if he, too, had heard a door and didn't understand the meaning of the fallen man, the grieving dog.

Midnight Wednesday. Sixty hours. Time on fire, minutes burning. Mitch couldn't afford to let hours turn to ashes while he was tied up with a police investigation.

On the sidewalk, a column of marching ants changed course, crawling toward the feast within the cratered skull.

In a mostly clear sky, a rare cloud drifted across the sun. The day paled. Shadows faded.

Chilled, Mitch turned from the corpse, stepped off the curb, halted.

He and Iggy couldn't just load the unplanted impatiens into the truck and drive away. They might not be able to do so before someone came along and saw the dead man. Their indifference to the victim and their flight would suggest guilt even to the most unworldly pa.s.serby, and certainly to the police.

The cell phone, folded shut, remained in Mitch's hand. He looked upon it with dread.

If you go to the cops, we'll cut her fingers off one by one....

The kidnappers would expect him to summon the authorities or to wait for someone else to do so. Forbidden, however, was any mention of Holly or of kidnapping, or of the fact that the dogwalker had been murdered as an example to Mitch.

Indeed, his unknown adversaries might have put him in this predicament specifically to test his ability to keep his mouth shut at the moment when he was in the most severe state of shock and most likely to lose his self-control.

He opened the phone. The screen brightened with an image of colorful fish in dark water.

After keying in 9 and 1, Mitch hesitated, but then entered the final digit.

Iggy dropped his trowel, moved toward the street.

Only when the police operator answered on the second ring did Mitch realize that from the moment he'd seen the dead man's shattered head, his breathing had been desperate, ragged, raw. For a moment, words wouldn't come, and then they blew blew out of him in a rough voice he barely recognized. out of him in a rough voice he barely recognized.

"A man's been shot. I'm dead. I mean, he's dead. He's been shot and he's dead."

About the Author.

DEAN KOONTZ, the author of many #1 New York Times bestsellers, lives with his wife, Gerda, and the enduring spirit of their golden retriever, Trixie, in southern California.

Correspondence for the author should be addressed to: Dean Koontz P.O. Box 9529 Newport Beach, CA 92658

Also by DEAN KOONTZ DEAN KOONTZ The Good Guy * Brother Odd * The Husband * Forever Odd * Velocity * Life Expectancy * The Taking * Odd Thomas * * Velocity * Life Expectancy * The Taking * Odd Thomas * The Face * By the Light of the Moon * One Door Away From Heaven The Face * By the Light of the Moon * One Door Away From Heaven * From the Corner of His Eye * False Memory * Seize the Night * * From the Corner of His Eye * False Memory * Seize the Night * Fear Nothing * Mr. Murder * Dragon Tears * Hideaway Fear Nothing * Mr. Murder * Dragon Tears * Hideaway * Cold Fire * The Bad Place * Midnight * Lightning * * Cold Fire * The Bad Place * Midnight * Lightning * Watchers * Strangers * Twilight Eyes * Darkfall Watchers * Strangers * Twilight Eyes * Darkfall * Phantoms * Whispers * The Mask * The Vision * * Phantoms * Whispers * The Mask * The Vision * The Face of Fear * Night Chills * Shattered The Face of Fear * Night Chills * Shattered * The Voice of the Night * The Servants of Twilight * * The Voice of the Night * The Servants of Twilight * The House of Thunder * The Key to Midnight The House of Thunder * The Key to Midnight * The Eyes of Darkness * Shadowfires * Winter Moon * * The Eyes of Darkness * Shadowfires * Winter Moon * The Door to December * Dark Rivers of the Heart The Door to December * Dark Rivers of the Heart * Icebound * Strange Highways * Intensity * Sole Survivor * * Icebound * Strange Highways * Intensity * Sole Survivor * Ticktock * The Funhouse * Demon Seed Ticktock * The Funhouse * Demon Seed

DEAN KOONTZ'S FRANKENSTEIN Book One: Prodigal Son * with Kevin J. Anderson * with Kevin J. Anderson Book Two: City of Night * with Ed Gorman * with Ed Gorman a cognizant original v5 release november 13 2010