Laurel Dewey - Revelations
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Revelations: summary, description and annotation
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In this third Jane Perry novel, Laurel Dewey takes Jane out of Denver to the small town of Midas where the Chief of Police is a close friend of Janes boss. Jacob Van Gorden, the fifteen-year-old son of a prominent area businessman, has disappeared and all signs point to his abductor being Jordan Copeland, a man who committed a similar crime decades ago. Jane settles into this little community for much longer than she wants, living with a preacher and his family (including their eccentric teenage daughter who was Jacobs girlfriend). There are signs that Jacob is still alive, so the clock is ticking. And as Jane investigates Jordan Copeland, she begins to have doubts about his guilt and begins to uncover signs of devastating and even deadly secrets all around Midas.Meanwhile, Jane must deal with two considerable secrets of her own. One hits her in the gut before she leaves Denver and the other creeps up on her from the most unlikely of places. And on top of this, Hank Ross, owner of a bar in Midas, has somehow managed to find a way beneath Janes armor-plated defenses, forcing her to contend with feelings she hasnt allowed to surface for a very long time.Revelations is the most powerful and personal Jane Perry novel yet. Teeming with the passions and ambiguities that make Laurel Dewey so compelling to read, it is a breathtaking story of mysteries revealed and withheld.
Laurel Dewey: author's other books
Who wrote Revelations? Find out the surname, the name of the author of the book and a list of all author's works by series.
Laurel Dewey
Laurel Dewey
Laurel Dewey
Thomas Perry
Iris Johansen
Jacobs Jane
Ellis Weiner
Austen Jane
Austen Jane
Laura Jane Cassidy
Laurel Dewey
Laurel Dewey
Marilyn Brant
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Acknowledgments
My gratitude goes out to Lieutenant Wayne Weyler of the
Mesa County Sheriffs Department in Grand Junction,
Colorado who helped with research and story accuracy.
Mesa County Sheriffs Department in Grand Junction,
Colorado who helped with research and story accuracy.
Thanks to the transformative work of Bert Hellinger and his
book Acknowledging What Is, which was the impetus for the
subject matter in this book.
book Acknowledging What Is, which was the impetus for the
subject matter in this book.
To Jan Rupp, for her friendship and invaluable understanding
of the family constellation.
of the family constellation.
To Carol Craven, for always catching the light to grab the
perfect shot.
perfect shot.
Kudos to Peter Miller for helping make the Jane Perry series
a success.
a success.
As always, many thanks to Lou Aronica for his dogged
determination and belief in Jane Perry. Without you, none of
this would be possible.
determination and belief in Jane Perry. Without you, none of
this would be possible.
CHAPTER 1
Jordan Copeland ran like a monster through the rainsoaked woods, chased only by his demons.
The darkness fell in on himand within himas he fought the choking sensation in his throat. It was just like forty-one years ago. But this timethis time, it was deeper, darker and more profound.
Sweat beads bled into the fat raindrops that covered his long, oilcloth, olive green duster. The full moon traversed between the clouds, emitting fleeting glimpses of the world around hima stand of trees, the rushing, unforgiving river, his log cabin on stilts. Nearly out of breath, he took temporary shelter under a leafless oak.
Thats when he smelled it. Deathsudden, stark, shattering and without dignity. Death, with vacant eyes staring back, the silver cord cut between the worlds.
Jordan crouched down against the tree trunk, burying his head in his chest. The hard rain heightened the sharp, pervasive, oiled odor of his duster. Lifting his head toward the heavens, his wide-set blue eyes and elongated forehead felt the brunt of the icy pellets. His grey beard was laced with mud and rain that quickly hardened into frosty threads. The roar within was deafening. He clamped his large, calloused hands over his ears, as the syncopated beat of his racing heart pounded in his head. Not again, he thought. God not again.
The pressure around his throat increased. Forty-one years ago, he had youth on his side. He could run harder and longer. But now, his fifty-nine-year-old body was broken by a life unraveled. If he didnt keep running, he knew hed black out. Jordan felt the walls of his narrow world caving in. The sound of the rushing river thirty feet away, drifted into the distance.
He pressed his hands harder against his ears. For a moment, he heard nothingjust sweet silence and peace. Then, a second later, a stabbing pain sliced across his heart. He pulled his hands from his ears and pressed them against his chest, bracing himself against the oak trees trunk. The relentless storm sent waves of freezing rain across the inky landscape, raising the water of the thunderous river. The pressure around his throat increased until each breath became a life or death fight. Run, he thought. Run hard and escape. Yes, it was the same detached terror from forty-one years ago. He was able to sprint like a champion then, but it didnt do him any good. The end result was still a life of suffering and loneliness.
The storm subsided. Jordan sucked in a deep breath, the primal grip on his throat suddenly releasing. The knife-like pain in his chest mellowed to a dull throb. He could handle that, he figured, as he glanced down to his chest. The moonlight swept across his hands, revealing crimson streaks of blood. But from what? From where? Jordan regarded his oversized hands, as if they belonged to another. It made no sense. Dear God. It was happening again. But this timethis time, the terror was carving into his gut. Think, dammit, think. But as hard as he thought, he couldnt remember how hed arrived at this spotunder the oak tree, dying for breath, and bleeding.
The demons moved closer, their claws whipping toward him like the lines of the fly fishermen that stalked the rivers edge. Rising to his towering height, Jordans eyes flared into a wild gaze. His wet, tangled salt-and-pepper mane slapped against the soaked duster. Spinning from one side to the other, Jordan exposed a warriors sword that only he could see. The rage inside flared into a conflagration as he slashed and cut the demonic tentacles that coiled around him. They wont win this time. A generous sweep of his blade slaughtered the last of the fiends and sent them back into the underworld.
Crack!
Jordan turned toward the still echoing sound. The taste of death prickled on his tonguebitter and sour.
Roar!
They were coming for him and he was cornered. Hunted like a rabid dog, Jordan wasnt going to give up without a fight. Taking a step backward, he misjudged the embankment and plunged down the muddy, clay-laden slope. His ravaged body absorbed every rock and fallen tree while the pain consumed him. He was back on the cement floor of the jail cell forty-one years ago, getting the shit beaten out of him by the guards. Fucking killer! they screamed with a brutal punch to his face. Child killer! they grunted with each kick to his kidneys.
A high-pitched squeal shot into the night air as Jordans body hurtled toward the waters edge.
CHAPTER 2
Jane?
Jane Perry stood staring outside the office window. The spring rain swept across the Denver landscape as the somber grey dusk enveloped the city. It was a fitting backdrop to the jarring statement she was still attempting to grasp. Jane wrapped one arm around her chest, her fist balled. Chewing the thumbnail of her other hand, she felt the syncopated pounding of her heart. The rain fell with renewed fury as her world narrowed and darkened.
Janewhy dont you sit down?
The doctors voice sounded as though it was filtered through a wall instead of a few feet away. Breathe, Jane thought. But breathing was dangerous. Sucking in too much life might burn it up too fast. Everything would need to be measured from now on. Jesus Christ, what a way to live.
She turned toward the doctor, still in suspended animation and noted that the woman had a look of finely tuned compassion on her face. Jane wondered how many years it had taken to hone that visage so that patients would feel safer in her presence. Even with the news, Janes cynicism was still alive. So, whats the protocol? she asked, in the same tenor she used when entering a crime scene.
Id like to do another cone biopsy, the doctor responded flatly.
I thought you already determined it to be
The pathology suggests a possible Grade II cervical intraepithelial neoplasia. It looks to be confined to the basal third of the epithelium
The words swam through Janes head like sharks during a feeding frenzy. Each multisyllabic word gnashed into the other, creating a chaotic drone. She knew shed get a second opinion, but this was the second opinion.
Suggests? Jane interrupted with an edge to her voice. Is it or isnt it cancer?
There appear to be premalignant dysplastic changes but there are also abnormalities in the biopsy that are inconclusive
The sharks resumed their multisyllabic feast. Its fucking insane, Jane thought. Life had been going along at a nice, uneventful pace for over a year. She was now Sergeant Detective Perry, sharing duties with her former boss, Sergeant Morgan Weyler. They were an odd, yet highly effective team; Jane with her gruff, penetrating approach and Weyler with his eloquent, restrained demeanor. Together, theyd solved a few high-profile Denver homicide cases, washing away the tragic stain that had dogged the Department two years ago. After nearly four decades of shallow breathing, Jane had finally been able to exhale.
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