Hank's Radio (Haunted Collection Series)

A man’s seductive voice emanates from an antique radio, luring women into his murderous embrace…It’s business as usual for Stefan Korzh as he continues to send haunted antiques onto unsuspecting buyers. Despite going into hiding, his desire to punish the universe for his own misfortune remains unchecked. Victor Daniels, now more than ever, is focused on grabbing Korzh by the neck and making him feel the full extent of his pain and suffering. But plans change when a suave ghost from the 1940s leaves a trail of dead bodies in his wake. Hank, a sly and charming specter, uses a mahogany-colored radio to reach his victims...lonely, elderly women in nursing homes who find him hard to resist. Meanwhile, Tom Crane is slowly adjusting to the life of a homeschooled student, spending his days immersed in books from the local library. But brewing underneath his scholarly demeanor is his insatiable thirst for revenge. With Victor occupied, Tom embarks on a dangerous mission to confront the man behind his misery. The lives of Stefan, Victor, and Tom become more and more intertwined as they continue to play the blood-riddled sport. When old friends – and enemies – reveal themselves, they discover that anything is possible in a game filled with ghosts and vengeance.Even the hunter can become the hunted…

From the Inside Flap

Chapter 1: The Arrival The package was on her porch when Amy Marin arrived home from work on Monday night. Above her, the light bulb in the old fixture flickered as she bent over and picked the package up. The cardboard was rough against her tired skin, and the item within was heavy. She didn't need to read the label to know what it was.Amy had only purchased one piece off of eBay in the past two weeks, and it had arrived exactly as scheduled. She shuffled the box from one hand to the other, dragged her keys out of her coat pocket and let herself into her house. The warm, comforting smell of beef stew in the crock-pot filled the air, and she felt some of the day's tension ease out of her shoulders. She carried the package to the coffee table, set it down, and took off her work shoes, exchanging them for her slippers. Next, Amy shrugged off her coat and dropped it to the couch as she sat down. She leaned back, closed her eyes, and took several deep, cleansing breaths. The radiator sputtered in the corner, and the furnace rumbled in the basement.When she finally opened her eyes, she sat up straight, picked up the old Moran & Moran catalog off the table, and flipped it open to the bookmarked page. She glanced over the description quickly to make certain she knew exactly what was supposed to be in the box. She then opened it.In less than a minute, she had the packaging removed, and had placed the item on her table.It was a small, well-cared for Crosley table-top radio. The casing for the radio was made of wood, with dark veneer attached. Bakelite knobs offered up controls for the volume and the tuner. Clear plastic protected a large dial in the tombstone shaped center, and allowed the listener to see what station they had tuned into.It was a minor work of art as far as Amy was concerned, and whoever had previously owned the 1937 radio had felt the same. The veneer had been polished to a high shine, and the fabric over the inset speakers was pulled taut.Amy smiled as she looked at it. Then, leaning forward, she tuned the radio to AM station 1590 and whispered, "Hey Hank, how've you been?"A moment later, the radio crackled, a pale light illuminated the dial, and the room became colder.Amy sighed happily and settled back once more, watching the radio and waiting for Hank to emerge.Nearly a full minute passed before anything occurred, and when it did, Hank was nothing more than a shadow in the corner of the room. A blood-chilling drop in the temperature caused her to shiver, and Amy hesitated a moment before she spoke."Hello," she said in a low voice."Howdy," Hank replied. His voice was deep and powerful."Tell me, where am I?""New Hampshire," Amy answered, trying to ignore the enticing nature of his voice. "I've brought you here to help.""Help?" the dead man chuckled. "I've never been especially helpful."Amy smiled tightly and said, "I need you to kill people.""Ah," Hank said, and he sighed deeply with satisfaction."Tell me, who are they?""A bunch of old biddies," Amy snarled, then regained her composure."Old ladies, huh?" Hank said. "Hmm, I suppose I could work with that. Are they here?""Across the way," Amy said. "Less than a quarter mile. And I'll tell you something else. A lot of them have old radios in their apartments. Some work. Some don't."The shadow took on a more definite form. Amy could make out distinct limbs and a head, although the finer details were still obscured."Doesn't matter if they do or don't," Hank said in a soft, pleased tone. "It's always fun to enter a home that way. Gives it that sort of, you know, je ne sais quoi."Amy didn't know what he meant, but she nodded anyway."So," she asked, "you'll do it?""Of course I will," Hank said, his voice almost a purr. "I could never refuse a lady."Amy blushed and grinned, and imagined the fear and confusion the dead man would create.It was exactly what she wanted.

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