By Neil Mcmahon
After a twenty-year absence Renee Callister is again in Helena, Montana, to bury her estranged father. John Callister was once an area pariah believed to have had a hand in his wife's homicide whilst she was once protesting the hole of a arguable silver mine. however the discovery of hectic images and one silver earring in her father's house is inflicting Renee to reexamine her stepmother's loss of life in a surprising new light—and sending her to Hugh Davoren for aid. A California expatriate, Hugh Davoren makes his residing lower than Montana's significant Sky, operating as a chippie together with his Blackfoot friend Madbird—and he is continuously there for a pal. however the fact Renee Callister seeks is buried in darkish and unsafe locations, and Davoren's going to make a few robust, unforgiving enemies while he digs too deep.
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Additional info for Dead Silver: A Novel
I’d fallen into that near-trance state of being like a lab animal trained to press a bar for a pellet of food or a jolt of pleasure to the brain. I kept clicking my finger, dancing the arrow across the screen, hoping for my own little reward in the form of a morsel of intriguing information. Then, on a whim I hadn’t even realized was in my head, I typed the name Seth Fraker into the search window. About four hundred entries turned up, fewer than I’d expected. Most involved minutes of the current legislative session or other business where his name was attached in some perfunctory way.
If you bothered to wash your vehicle, it would only highlight the greasy black splotches that reappeared as soon as your wheels started turning, like shooed flies flitting back to a picnic lunch. The snowfields that blanketed the higher mountains were taking on a worn look, and the buds on the trees lower down were thickening. Patches of ice clung to the shoreline of Canyon DEAD SILVER 19 Ferry Lake, but most of its solid freeze-over had broken up, and its miles-long expanse reflected the slaty gray sky in the afternoon light.
Stay there, we’ll come out,” I said. We groped our way outside into the cool damp day. Spring was still taunting but not yet delivering. When Renee saw us, she actually started to laugh before she caught herself. I didn’t mind. It was the first time I’d seen worry leave her face. And we had it coming. Madbird looked like an extra in a Road Warrior movie—his body was white with dust except for dark goggle rings around his eyes, and his thick black hair was tangled with a nest of plaster chunks that suggested he’d gone through a wall headfirst.