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Moon of Darkness — Miriam Lynch
Rosalie was a stranger to the house...a stranger to the troubled people who lived in the decaying mansion called Moontide. Why should anyone in that big ugly place want her out of the way? What had she done that she should be marked for death? She waited in terror for the next attempt, knowing there was nothing she could do to escape from Moontide. But a worse terror lurked in the shadows of Moontide.
She had come to Moontide in search of love, but Death waited there with open arms...
What was the secret of Moontide?
There was a scent of death--and evil--in the old house. In an upstairs bedroom of that once-proud mansion, and old woman lay dying, no longer concerned with the secret that had been buried for four generations...
Rosalie Dexter had been hired to ease old Mrs. Aldrich's last days. She would have preferred another case, but she was in love with young Dr. Sargent, and hoped that here he might see her as more than another white uniform.
Within hours after her arrival Rosalie knew that she was the pawn in a game she didn't understand. Was it really an accident when she was locked in an airless closet? Or when she was struck down in the carriage house? Was it mere coincidence that she and granddaughter Gloria looked so much alike?
There were other unanswered questions, but nobody really listened to her--not even Dr. Sargent. Perhaps old Mrs. Aldrich knew who wanted Rosalie dead, but she couldn't talk.
And then, one horrible night, Rosalie knew why she had to die. She had found the answer to an ancient puzzle, but no one was around to hear it--no one but a killer...
The Mark of the Cult
Rosalie got a basin full of hot water from the bathroom down the hall and began the washing process.
As she bathed Mrs. Aldrich's face, she pushed the thin white hair off the wrinkle -- webbed forehead. And stopped abruptly with the wash cloth half-raised. For she had come upon a scar high in the center of the forehead, an old, puckered scar in the shape of a crescent moon.
It looked very much like the scar of a burn. And Rosalie wondered what sort of accident Zena Aldrich had had, many years ago, to leave his memento.
She had come to Moontide in search of love, but Death waited there with open arms...
What was the secret of Moontide?
There was a scent of death--and evil--in the old house. In an upstairs bedroom of that once-proud mansion, and old woman lay dying, no longer concerned with the secret that had been buried for four generations...
Rosalie Dexter had been hired to ease old Mrs. Aldrich's last days. She would have preferred another case, but she was in love with young Dr. Sargent, and hoped that here he might see her as more than another white uniform.
Within hours after her arrival Rosalie knew that she was the pawn in a game she didn't understand. Was it really an accident when she was locked in an airless closet? Or when she was struck down in the carriage house? Was it mere coincidence that she and granddaughter Gloria looked so much alike?
There were other unanswered questions, but nobody really listened to her--not even Dr. Sargent. Perhaps old Mrs. Aldrich knew who wanted Rosalie dead, but she couldn't talk.
And then, one horrible night, Rosalie knew why she had to die. She had found the answer to an ancient puzzle, but no one was around to hear it--no one but a killer...
The Mark of the Cult
Rosalie got a basin full of hot water from the bathroom down the hall and began the washing process.
As she bathed Mrs. Aldrich's face, she pushed the thin white hair off the wrinkle -- webbed forehead. And stopped abruptly with the wash cloth half-raised. For she had come upon a scar high in the center of the forehead, an old, puckered scar in the shape of a crescent moon.
It looked very much like the scar of a burn. And Rosalie wondered what sort of accident Zena Aldrich had had, many years ago, to leave his memento.
