In Robert Brenner’s cornerstone book of his Glenn Rice Suspense
Mystery Series, the Devil’s Comic, there exists a fine line between
reality and illusion—a line many fail to see. So, when Glenn Rice
answers a call to explore something he doesn’t understand, the life
he knew slips from his fingers as he descends into a mental crevasse
so deep, surfacing isn’t guaranteed. Still, he knows only he can
discover the answers to questions he hears whispered on the wind.
Stepping from the warmth of his cabin onto the makeshift deck, a
frigid wind caught in his lungs—an ill wind, he called it, but only to
those who knew him as much more than Flagstaff’s colorful old timer.
Yes, he was full of tales anyone would love to tell, but it was the stuff
buried in his soul making the man. Few were privileged to hear them,
although all would have loved to deliver his wood for an hour or two.
He stood facing the Superstitions, knowing with the wind came change
he felt weeks prior. Then, he thought of Biminak.
Surely, he felt it, too.