by Greg Walker
Kane, a central participant in the story that culminates with his killing in self-defense of the man that took his brother's life, brings a surprising objectivity to the telling, and manages to convey the humanity of even the most culpable characters. Even the man that killed Adam. He seeks not to condemn, or to sensationalize the story, but tell it as it happened to one man that only wanted to know the answer to one question. Why? As I read, I experienced his pain as he wrestles to understand hard truths almost beyond comprehension. He pulls no punches, and the story isn't for the faint of heart or those looking for light entertainment beside the pool.
Nor is it for those overly complacent with themselves.
Because, if you're anything like me, you shook your head in disbelief when the story first broke. How could something like this happen? And how could one of the central participants be a man of God? I began reading as though ushered to the front row at a freak show, prepared to see something strange and exotic. But Kane doesn't let us off that easily. He forces us to see beyond the sensational nature of the deeds and look at ourselves through the mirror of Lincoln Corners. When held up, I wanted to turn away, but I couldn't; and saw parts of myself reflected in the residents of Lincoln Corners: in Patrick Burroughs and Arnie Fisk and Paul Myers. And, God help me, Isaac Burroughs. Because Kane, with a thorough examination of the murders and most importantly motive, has made them out to be what we all are. Simply human. After I put the book down, its narrative continued to haunt me, and kept me up nights longer than any work of horror fiction ever could.
Albert Ashe - Bookweek
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
