Reseña del libro "The Burning (en Inglés)"
A young woman is found, brutally raped and set on fire. The police investigation eventually leads to the arrest of two defendants. They are charged with the kidnapping, sexual assault, and attempted murder of the young woman. Attorney Richards represents one of the two defendants. While the client maintains his innocence, he remains uncooperative. The case takes a bizarre twist when the client's family is threatened, a potential witness is murdered and the co-defendant's attorney begins to act strangely. When Attorney Richards confronts the other attorney, she refuses to discuss the case and raises the claim of confidential communications. The district attorney refuses to see any connection between the Richards' client and the new murder and proceeds with the prosecution and secures a conviction. Things get hairy when Attorney Richards seeks a new trial. This is an excerpt from Chapter 1: Pain raced through her body, and the rancid smell of her burning flesh reached into her nostrils. The horror overwhelmed her as she raised her head and saw the charred skin of her forearms hanging lifeless. She lay near the edge of the roadway, her strength nearly sapped. She was alone. The night air, cold. The sky, dark. The place, desolate. Help would not come. So she crawled. The gravel dug into her hands. They pierced her knees. Their jagged edges cut into her arms as she drug herself away from the burnt grass. In the distance down the roadway she could see a street light. A driveway. A home. She fought to stand. Her blistered hand pushed against the stones in the road as she forced her body from the earth. Through the anguish she pushed herself onto her feet. She limped forward, hunched over, grimacing. The asphalt tore into her blistered soles as she hobbled for help. Each step, excruciating pain. Ten. Twenty. One hundred feet. She moved along the distance. Slowly. Painfully. To the light. The driveway. The home. The ringing of the doorbell broke the silence of the middle of the night. Gloria Donovan lifted her head and tried to orient herself to the events surrounding her. She listened again to make sure she wasn't dreaming. The sound of the doorbell again pierced the quiet of her bedroom. Gloria pulled off the blanket and lifted herself off the bed. She grabbed her nightgown. It was well worn, yet the blue color was still bright and showed no signs of fading. She paused and looked down at her husband who still lay sound asleep. The doorbell rang yet again. Gloria slowly made her way to the gabled bedroom window. She was puzzled at who might be ringing the doorbell since they lived out in the country. She pulled back the curtain and peered through the darkness of the night at her front porch. The only illumination of the porch was the street light at the end of the long gravel driveway, yet Gloria still made out the figure of a young woman, arms folded around her chest. The woman was in obvious distress. Her hair appeared frayed. Her clothes were difficult to discern. Gloria turned from the window and stepped back to the bed. She shook the lump in the bed, and the covers moved ever so slightly. A head with gray, matted hair responded by raising itself from the pillow. The eyes opened. The mouth moaned. "Frank. Wake up." "It's still dark. What's gotten into you?" "There's a woman in trouble downstairs." Satisfied her husband had awakened, Gloria opened the bedroom door and proceeded down the hallway toward the stairs. Turning on the lights, she hurried to the entrance at the foot of the staircase. As she reached the door, she paused and moved the curtain from the window alongside the door and peered through. The woman was still there and appeared to be alone. Gloria reached for the light switch, and as the outdoor lights came on, Gloria's mouth dropped in horror. The woman's hair was burned, not frayed. What little clothes she wore were nothing but charred remains. Her skin, red and blistered.
