For more than thirty years, the case has remained stone cold -- the brutal murder of a local Papago girl, her butchered body found stuffed into a large cooler that was left on the side of Highway 86. No one ever paid for the horrific crime ... except, that is, the victim's loved ones, who suffer to this day.

Brandon Walker, once the sheriff of Pima County, Arizona, no longer feels he has purpose. A reluctant retiree living in the long shadow of his wife, Diana Ladd, a successful author of true-crime books, he is bored with golf, and more so with life. Salvation, though, comes with an invitation to join the ranks of The Last Chance, an exclusive nationwide fraternity of former cops and forensic experts who look into unsolved murders that have baffled local law enforcement agencies. And one such case is staring Brandon in the face with cold, dead, entreating eyes -- a murder investigation that may have been mishandled by his department when he was a young lawman.

The trail of a sadistic, calculating, and blood-chillinglyefficient killer soon leads Brandon into a strange world at the unlikely border between forensic science and tribal mysticism: a place where evil hides behind a perfect facade. Now the seeds of terror sown three decades earlier have bloomed and are bearing awful fruit. A forgotten homicide in the Arizona desert is only the beginning of the nightmare that is about to ensnare a diligent ex-cop and his family, for Brandon Walker is the only one still alive who can unravel a blood knot of terror and obsession that will free a dark truth more frightening than he ever imagined.

A novel that bristles with electrifying intensity and is alive with the breathtaking atmosphere and rich characterizations that have become J. A. Jance trademarks, Day of the Dead is a gripping and extraordinary journey into the darkness -- a welcome return to the shadow world of the sensational New York Times bestseller Kiss of the Bees -- and the author's most spellbinding and powerfully resonant thriller to date.

Day of the Dead

By Jance, J. A.

William Morrow & Company

ISBN: 0688138233

Chapter One

They say it happened long ago that I'itoi,Elder Brother, came to a village to see ifhis Desert People had enough water afterthe long summer heat.

As he walked along he heard a crowd of Indianchildren playing. He stopped for a whileand watched them, listening to the music oftheir voices and laughter. About that time ElderBrother saw an old woman carrying a heavyload of wood for her cooking fire. Old Womanwas not as happy and carefree as the children.She had no energy to sing or play.

About that time an old coyote came andstood by I'itoi. He, too, watched the children.Old Coyote's ribs showed under his thin,ragged coat. Like Old Woman, Old Coyotecould no longer play and dance. His paws weretoo stiff and sore from just walking around inthe desert.

Seeing Old Woman and Old Coyote madeI'itoi sad. Because Elder Brother's heart was heavy, he couldn't walk very fast. He went tothe shade of some cottonwood trees to rest. Itwas autumn, so the leaves on the tree hadturned yellow, but they still made shade.

As Great Spirit sat under the trees, hethought about the children at play and abouthow different they would be when they grewold. He thought about some young calves hehad seen that morning in a field and about howthey would change as they grew older. Hethought about a young colt he had seen kickingup its heels with joy, and he thought about how,one day, Young Colt would become Old Horse.He thought about flowers and about how theirleaves withered and their colors faded whenthey grew old.

Thinking about these things, I'itoi decidedhe would like to have something around himthat would not change as it became old. Hewanted something that would not grow heavylike the cows and horses or wrinkled and bentlike old men and women or dry and colorless likedead flowers. Great Spirit wanted somethingthat would always stay happy and beautiful likethe children.

As I'itoi was thinking these things under thecottonwood trees, he looked up. He saw the yellowleaves. He saw the blue sky through theleaves. He saw the shadows under the yellowleaves. He looked down and saw streaks andspots of sunlight dancing around on the ground just as the Indian Children had danced. ThenGreat Spirit laughed, for you see, nawoj -- myfriend, I'itoi had found just what he wanted.

March 16, 2000

Brandon Walker stood in front of the bathroommirror locked in mortal combat with the stubbornstrings of his bow tie. As sweat dampened hisbrow and soaked through the underarms of hisstarched white shirt, he longed for the good olddays when, as Pima County sheriff, he could haveshown up at one of these cattle calls in his dressuniform instead of having to put on a stupidtuxedo.

There was a tap on the door. "Are you ready?"Diana asked. "It's getting late."

"Then you'd better come help me with thisdamned tie," Brandon grunted.

Diana opened the door, and her reflectionjoined his in the mirror. She was so beautiful thatseeing her took Brandon's breath away. She wasdressed in a deep blue full-length taffeta gownthat complemented every inch of her still slimfigure. In the cleft at the base of her throat a diamondsolitaire pendant hung from a slender goldchain. That single piece of jewelry had cost morethan Brandon's first house. Her auburn hair,highlighted now with natural streaks of gray, waspulled back in an elegant French twist.

"Hi, gorgeous," he said.

She smiled back at him. "You're not so badyourself. What's the trouble?"

"The bow," he said. "I'm all fumble fingers."It took only a few seconds for her to untangleand straighten the tie. "There," she said, pattinghis shoulder. "Now let's get going."

Brandon picked up his jacket from the bed andshrugged his way into it as he followed his wifedown the hall. "Which car?" he asked. "Mine oryours?"

"Yours," she said.

They drove east from Gates Pass and intodowntown Tucson to the community centerwhere the Tucson Man and Woman of the Yearbenefit gala was being held. The honorees, Gayleand Dr. Lawrence Stryker, were friends of DianaLadd's dating back to her days as a teacher on theTohono O'odham Reservation. Now a local luminary,Diana had been asked to give a short introductoryand no doubt laudatory speech. Brandon'splan was to go, be seen, and do his best to beagreeable. But when it came to Larry and GayleStryker, he intended to keep his mouth firmlyshut. That would be best for all concerned.

Larry Stryker sat on the dais overlookingthe decorated ballroom filled with candlelit banquettables and listened as Diana Ladd stood atthe microphone and spoke about old times.

"As some of you know, in the early seventies Iwent through a rough patch. I was teaching on thereservation, had lost my husband, and had abrand-new baby. Not many people stuck with meduring that time, but Larry and Gayle Strykerdid, and I'll always be grateful for that. Over theyears it's been gratifying for me to see whatthey've done with their lives and to watch asthey've turned a single idea into a powerful toolfor good."

Larry searched the sea of upturned faces untilhe caught sight of Brandon Walker sitting at oneof the foremost tables. The former sheriff, lookinguncomfortable and out of his element in what wasprobably a rented tux, sat with his arms foldedacross his chest. Their eyes met briefly. Brandonnodded in acknowledgment, but there was nothingfriendly in the gesture -- on either side.

Former sheriff. That was the operant wordhere. While Diana Ladd spoke of the good oldtimes, Larry was free to let his thoughts drift backto those times as well. Fortunately, no one in theroom -- most especially Brandon Walker -- wasable to read his mind.

Continues...

Excerpted from Day of the Deadby Jance, J. A. Excerpted by permission.
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