The Fallen: The Light Bringer: Book Two

Overview

Police Lieutenant Alan Crane is back for the second installment in The Light Bringer trilogy. In The Fallen, our main character continues on his epic, supernatural journey chasing an answer to the question that has plagued him for too many years?Why do people die? Readers will follow Crane into another fantastic adventure beyond this world while delving deeper into the mystery of death. Good and evil collide once again as Alan Crane and his supernatural companion, Michael Simmons, discover that the darkness is ...

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The Fallen: The Light Bringer: Book Two

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Overview

Police Lieutenant Alan Crane is back for the second installment in The Light Bringer trilogy. In The Fallen, our main character continues on his epic, supernatural journey chasing an answer to the question that has plagued him for too many years—Why do people die? Readers will follow Crane into another fantastic adventure beyond this world while delving deeper into the mystery of death. Good and evil collide once again as Alan Crane and his supernatural companion, Michael Simmons, discover that the darkness is now entering the world of the living. This story will take readers on an incredible quest that leads our heroes to seek the true motives of The Fallen. The question now lingering is just how it will all end.

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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
The team that brought you The Light Bringer returns with an even more engrossing tale of good vs. evil. Combining elements of police procedural and supernatural, The Fallen will grab readers and take them on a wild ride.

—Vicki Erwin, Owner of Main Street Books.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780757317132
  • Publisher: Health Communications, Incorporated
  • Publication date: 2/5/2013
  • Pages: 336
  • Sales rank: 1,383,199
  • Product dimensions: 5.50 (w) x 8.20 (h) x 0.90 (d)

Meet the Author

Chris DiGiuseppi has more than nineteen years in law enforcement at various levels, including Assistant Chief of Police. He is a graduate of the FBI National Academy and Northwestern University School of Police Staff Command. He is trained in various aspects of law enforcement and holds degrees in human resources and business administration. Chris lives with his wife and children in Missouri. Visit the author at www.thelightbringerbook.com.

Mike Force has spent more than thirty years in law enforcement, the last nineteen as a police chief. Mike has numerous certifications in various areas of law, forensics, investigations, and criminology. He is a graduate of the FBI National Academy and served twenty-two years in the US Marines, where he retired as a captain. He oversaw operations for twenty-seven military installations worldwide. He holds degrees in political science and human resources. Mike has three grown children and a granddaughter and lives with his wife in Missouri. Visit the author at www.thelightbringerbook.com.

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Read an Excerpt

Fear the Wind

Curtis Norman lived with his mother in a run-down shack that sat in the middle of their land, located on the outskirts of a small rural town called Mossy Grove. He was twenty years old and helped his mother run the family farm, or what was left of it. Since his father had died three years ago, the farm had slowly deteriorated, and portions had had to be sold off in order for him and his mother to survive. He felt lost and alone in life, with no real sense of direction, since he had nothing to look forward to.

Despite his depression, he had an upbeat demeanor today because he had been invited to attend a meeting with some local boys who had started a club. He knew very little about the club other than the fact that it was led by Johnny Bartel, who was a few years older than he and the person who had invited him to attend. Everyone was supposed to meet at the old barn on the McCallister farm at 10:00 pm.

He glanced down to his wrist at the tattered cheap silver watch that had once belonged to his father. His mind wandered back to the day of his father's funeral and the cold dark feeling of emptiness that had consumed him. A vivid picture of the grave site appeared in his mind as he recalled looking at his father's cheaply made wooden casket, which had cost his mother so much money that they had had to go without food for three days after the ceremony. His stomach twitched as he recalled how horrible those three long days had been. He and his mother would have gone longer without eating had it not been for Old Man Burnstein, who owned the small grocery store in town and had brought food over on the third day. After a few months, his mother had tried to pay him back for the groceries, but the old man wouldn't take it. Curtis could still recall the conversation as though it had just happened.

'When that bad storm hit,' Mr. Burnstein had said, 'and the entire roof of my store had been torn off, your husband helped me repair it and paid for the materials himself. He never asked for anything in return. He saved my livelihood and my family.' Mr. Burnstein had half smiled and looked extremely appreciative.

Curtis remembered working on the roof of the store with his father. While they were replacing some of the shingles, he had asked, 'Why are we doing this, Pop?'

His father had finished hammering and wiped his forehead. 'Because Mr. Burnstein needs help. He can't afford to fix this himself, nor is he young enough to climb up here on this roof.' His father had paused and taken a long drink of water from a thermos tied to his belt, then pointed his finger at Curtis and continued, 'I want you to remember one thing, son. When people are in need, you help them—even if it looks like there's nothing in it for you. You do it because it's the right thing to do. You got that?'

Curtis had nodded and said, 'Yeah, Pop.'

A tear began to well up in Curtis's eye as he remembered how much he missed his father. Just then a loud horn and the sound of screeching brakes caused Curtis to jump and nearly lose his balance. As he came to his senses, he realized that he must have wandered out into the street—he was standing inches away from a car that had nearly struck him. Looking back down at his watch, he noticed that it was 9:55 pm, and a sense of urgency overtook him as he remembered that it was a fifteen-minute walk to the McCallister farm. He sprinted off down the street.

As Curtis ran up the winding dirt drive that ended at the old brick farmhouse, he looked across the large bean field to see the old barn still standing erect. He jumped the fence and made his way along the side of the field until he reached the clearing where the huge wooden barn stood. Looking around, he noticed that there were several cars parked near the roadway that ran along the north side of the bean field. Pausing for a moment, he stopped in front of the barn door to catch his breath; he didn't want to be embarrassed in front of everyone by having to admit that he didn't have a car and had to walk.

As he opened the old tattered door, it creaked, and Curtis thought that it might fall off its hinges. Peering inside, he could see ten people milling around. All were boys about his age, either sitting on the nearby hay bales or standing. As Curtis made his way farther inside the barn, a voice behind him said, 'Curtis. How are you? I didn't know you were coming. Do you want a beer?'

Curtis turned to see a short boy with brown hair that hung down to the top of his collar. Jeremy Albert was his name, and Curtis recognized him from school. From what Curtis remembered, Jeremy was always somewhat of a follower who did whatever it took to fit in with the crowd. He lived with his mother and father on a farm just to the south of Curtis's property.

'Uh, no, I'm good, Jeremy, but I appreciate it—maybe later.' His father had detested drinking because Curtis's brother had been killed in a drunken driving accident. In the center of the barn was Johnny Bartel, a tall, burly young man with a scraggly short beard.

'Hey, glad you made it,' said Johnny, as he turned to look at Curtis.

'Well, I'm glad you invited me.'

'No problem, we need more people,' Johnny replied, as he stepped up onto a small wooden table that was placed in the center of the barn.

'Now that everyone is here, we can get started,' Johnny announced. 'This meeting of the Hammer of God will now commence.'

A skeptical look came over Curtis's face as he heard the official name of the club for the first time. He thought it was rather stupid.

Johnny continued, 'Our first order of business is to deal with this problem we have in town. That Jew store owner we have won't take a hint. We trashed his place and left him a note to get out of town, but he refuses to listen. He reopened today, and one Jew in town is too many, so we need to take matters into our own hands. Tonight we will break in and wait until he arrives to open the store. I know he gets there about four-thirty in the morning, and nobody will be around. All of us will be waiting inside, and once he enters, we rid this world of another worthless Jew. All of us will carry out the will of God by killing this bastard, and nobody will be left out.'

Johnny whispered something to Jeremy, who was standing next to him. Jeremy nodded and produced a pillowcase that he opened to allow Johnny to see inside, then he closed it and began walking toward the others gathered in the barn. Whatever was in the pillowcase clattered and clanged like horseshoes.

Johnny's face broke into a large smile, and Curtis could see a look of sincere hatred in his eyes as he spoke. 'Okay, Brother Jeremy will be handing out the tools that we need to fulfill God's will.'

Jeremy walked toward two boys who were seated on a nearby hay bale. Reaching into the pillowcase, he withdrew a couple of wooden-handled steak knives and handed one to each of the boys. Curtis watched as he continued around the barn handing out the knives. Finally, Jeremy stopped in front of Curtis, drew out a knife, and presented it. Curtis took hold of the wooden handle and noticed that the knife had been recently sharpened. To his horror, he saw that the handle was stained with a dark brownish-red hue.

Blood, he thought, and fear began to grip his throat. They must have stabbed somebody else with these. His breathing began to quicken, then his fear turned to disgust and finally anger as he clenched his teeth.

'We will all participate, as I have said,' Johnny stated. 'All of you will get a chance to fulfill what we are destined to do.'

Curtis dropped the knife, and at once all eyes were upon him. 'No,' he said.

Everyone seemed frozen for a moment, then Johnny spoke, 'No?' he demanded in a threatening tone. 'You would tell God no?'

'You're not God.' Curtis was defiant and stern. 'And I won't hurt Mr. Burnstein. He saved my life and my mother's. I won't do this!'

Johnny slowly walked toward Curtis with a knife in his right hand. 'So then, what will you do?' he asked accusingly as his wild eyes narrowed.

Curtis took a step back and placed his hand behind his back to feel for the doorway. 'I'll do what's right! That's what my pop taught me. No matter what happens, I'll do what's right.'

'We're going to kill that Jew—Burnstein—and if you're not with us, then you're against us,' Johnny hissed in an evil whisper.

The door was now right behind Curtis. He turned quickly in an attempt to flee, but Jeremy caught hold of his leg and tripped him. As Curtis's body struck the ground, the dry powdery dirt of the barn floor flew inside his mouth and became like paste. Coughing, he spat it out as three of the boys closest to him hoisted him up and held him by the arms.

Jeremy pressed the blade of the steak knife to Curtis's throat and asked, 'Should I cut him, Johnny?'

Johnny replied, 'No, that's for the Jew. He's a Jew lover—let's string him up.'

©2013. Mike Force. All rights reserved. Reprinted from The Fallen. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the written permission of the publisher. Publisher: Health Communications, Inc., 3201 SW 15th Street, Deerfield Beach, FL 33442.

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