Showing results by narrator "J.W. Terry" in All Categories

Are all rules broken when it comes to playing a game? Washed ashore a South Carolina beach, Lois Steinberg learns her shelter, an old plantation house, was scheduled to host a "Catch Me" game convention. When the cook is the first one found murdered, the game environment instantly morphs into a terrifying evening reminiscent of "And Then There Were None".

Listen up. If you're looking for trouble, you've found it. His name's Jake G. Panda and he's a wildlife investigator. This hard-boiled bear works at a flophouse for endangered critters called the Last Resort. He's the hotel snoop. The resident fuzz. It's his job to keep these unusual guests safe and outta harm's way. This hilarious first installment of The Endangered Files is a wild and woolly mystery involving a missing guest, a green bird, and a bunch of double-crossing critters all hot on the trail of The Cursed Dodo.

"The Game of Cat and Mouse": There came a ticking of some clock or another. And the sound of a dripping faucet somewhere in the house was like a hammer to an anvil. Our breaths were loud, but my heart sounded louder to me.

An enhanced audiobook, with complete music score and extensive sound effects to add to your listening experience. The fireman had seen a skeleton, wearing a dress coat, whose head was aflame. I was deeply worried for the missing young woman. If she had been taken by the opera ghost, be he flesh or spirit, how would she fare if she rejected his 'love'? All worries were momentarily forced out of my head when a sudden squawk rang out across the opera house. I cannot believe this! Me; a suspect.

Miami homicide detective Nicole Stone’s first case is as dangerous and threatening as it is terrifying. An up-and-coming actress has been violently snatched from her bed. If the taker's MO holds true, she will be killed within the next few days. She’s the most recent victim to be abducted in this manner but certainly not the first. There have been at least eight others before her, with no survivors. At first it might seem that murder is the endgame. As Nicole is about to find out, however, it is all just the start of something much more personal.

Eleventh in a string of new short stories set in the late 19th century, no fictional character is more renowned for his powers of thought and observation than Sherlock Holmes.

"Upon hearing that I had to consciously resist the temptation that I had to peek through the drapes to see if I could catch a glimpse of that scoundrel." Double Trouble in York is the 19th in a string of new short stories set in the late 19th century, no fictional character is more renowned for his powers of thought and observation than Sherlock Holmes.

In his riskiest and most personal case yet, Denver homicide detective Nick Teffinger crosses paths with an edgy little beauty who is either a killer or about to be killed - or both. Either way, she's on the run, and now so is he.

The interior was dark and neither of us searched for a lamp or switch. There came a ticking of some clock or another. And the sound of a dripping faucet somewhere in the house was like a hammer to an anvil. Our breaths were loud, but my heart sounded louder to me. Interestingly enough, Holmes moved as though he'd been through here before. I had no time to ponder this, as somewhere behind us I heard a door shut and then the click of a lock.

I do not suppose that you have brought your revolver with you Watson? I shook my head to indicate that my response was in the negative to his question. He turned his head forward again and led us through the kitchen, past several side pantries. As we cautiously inched forward, Holmes observed that the blood trail consisted of droplets of varying size. "Whomever it came from, they must have been applying intermittent pressure on the wound as they walked."

An enhanced audiobook, with complete music score and extensive sound effects to add to your listening experience.

An enhanced audiobook, with complete music score and extensive sound effects to add to your listening experience.

"Gentlemen, I am here to represent the interest of Henry Bank & Trust. We would like to resolve the situation quickly and quietly, so that all the investors can move forward with a minimum of anxiety. Holmes sat across from her, studying her with a nonplussed air. "I must admit; he said, that I do not know how to assist you. Inspector Lestrade was here earlier, and it appears that you are missing nothing and they have no thieves in custody. When the bank emptied today, everything was in place, except for the criminals."

Jane screeched at this further betrayal and went for Henry. They began to struggle. Henry was the stronger out of the two, yet the woman's pain was unstoppable. His hands wrapped around her throat and Jane clawed at his face until she fell. She lay there, across the tracks, and was quite still. Mrs. Cavell gasped in shock and Henry ran past us back to the train. We stared down at Jane's body.

He leaped up, feeling much better than I did, and chased me into my own room, so that I could get changed. There was a large crowd who had come to see the tomb. Holmes and I made our way through. I noticed Ini intently watching us. Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax were standing in the tunnel with someone from the Department of Antiquities. They had been waiting for us. The five of us made our way through the tunnel and back to the tomb. I couldn't wait to see if there really was a Pharaoh in the next room.

The scream echoed down the hallway, shaking me from my slumber and into the dim vision of the electric lights. Someone was banging on the door, and Watson scrambled to open it. I was bleary-eyed, still feeling a bit desensitized when Evelyn Reed burst in to the door. Her hands were covered with odious red, and tears streaked across her reddened face.

The bride carried no decaying roses, but her bridal dress was torn and burnt. Her bare legs, starved needle points, staggered disjointedly. The veil hung low over her face. I had my pistol, however I could not shoot. If it was a ghost, the bullet would surely pass through. If it was flesh, then I would be shooting dead a woman. Her hands, the fingernails long and cracked, lifted up the veil. Her face! Even in the darkness I could see its ruin.