An open road. A dead cop. A killer in the hills … I flicked on the torch, swept the surrounds. Nothing. Then I directed the beam into the trees on the other side of the road. Up on a high, jutting branch, something moved. It may have been a white face, a pale body, a curved leg. Or it may have been none of those things. Was it human? Too quick for me to tell. A ripple, a blink and it was gone. But it seemed to leave an afterglow, an impression upon the fabric of the night. I took a deep breath. What had I seen? It had appeared to be a pair of piercing eyes in a pale visage. It could almost have been an owl, so compelling was its gaze, so swift its departure. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, a distorted shadow? There was a crunch of leaf in the litter below and it was gone. Whatever it was, it sent a chill through me. It’s the festive season in the Windmark Ranges and Sergeant Jesse Redpath’s day is going from bad to worse. It begins with her having to arrest the usual drunks and troublemakers and ends with the death of a colleague out on the Redline road. A death that may or may not have been an accident.Jesse learns there have been other deaths and disappearances in the ranges, and that the local rumour mill suggests the perp is an elusive, semi-mythical character who goes by the name of ‘Anarchy’.Beneath the charm of a close-knit community, a darker truth festers, and Jesse’s driven to expose it, no matter the disruption to the valley’s fragile tranquillity.
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