Dark Debts

Dark Debts

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—Chicago Tribune

There is pure evil at work, infesting the body and spirit, driving its victims to insanity, suicide, and murder. To cast it out, a Jesuit priest must take a frightening journey into the heart of a Southern family tormented by an unspeakable curse.

—Philadelphia Inquirer

As he unravels three generations of secrets and battles for the very soul of the family's last surviving member, he will wrestle with his faith in the face of lust and collide with dark forces hell-bent on destroying him.


Brilliantly imagined and compulsively readable, DARK DEBTS is a pulse-pounding supernatural thriller—a remarkable novel that will grip you with its nightmare vision of evil and hold you spellbound until the very last page.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780679452065
Publisher: Random House Audio Publishing Group
Publication date: 08/06/1996
Edition description: 2 Cassettes
Product dimensions: 4.43(w) x 7.02(h) x 0.79(d)

About the Author

Karen Hall grew up in Virginia and attended the College of William and Mary. She has written for and produced many of the most acclaimed television shows of the 1980s and 1990s and received Emmy Award nominations for her work on M*A*S*H, Hill Street Blues, Moonlighting, and The Women of Brewster Place. Ms. Hall has also been a creative consultant on Roseanne and Grace Under Fire and written for I'll Fly Away and Northern Exposure. She lives in Los Angeles and Atlanta.

Read an Excerpt

She glanced around the bullpen, taking a quick inventory. Probably pretty boring compared to a Saturday night, but colorful nonetheless. Her bleary eyes scanned the collection of prostitutes, dope peddlers, and other assorted rejects from polite society. She wondered if she could catch something unspeakable just by breathing the air. She wondered if she cared.

The older detective was looking at her as if she'd missed a major point and she realized he'd just made some proclamation.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Couple of hours ago, someone robbed a liquor store a few blocks from Mr. Landry's apartment building."

Was that the big news flash? She knew the liquor store he was talking about. It was on the corner of Sunset and Vista, with a wide front door angled for easy access (and getaway) from both streets. None of the businesses around it were open at night, so it really stood out. She and Cam had joked that the owner should just put a sign in the window that said rob me. ("My brothers would have used that place as an ATM," Cam had said.) But what did any of that have to do with Cam's death?

". . . Witnesses described the robber as a white male in his late thirties, about six-three, salt-and-pepper hair, wearing a nice suede jacket, sort of an odd shade of green. He asked the cashier to throw in a bottle of Chinaca tequila. Not exactly your standard profile." He smiled a little. "Your run-of-the-mill liquor-store robber will usually settle for Cuervo Gold."

Randa just stared at him. Cam had a tequila fetish that was not a secret to anyone who knew him or read his books. And she had given him a sage-green suede jacket two Christmasses ago. But surely hewasn't implying . . .

"I noticed an unopened bottle of Chinaca on Mr. Landry's desk, and it rang a bell. Far-fetched, I know, but I swung by and had one of the witnesses take a look at Mr. Landry's driver's license, and what do you know? Bingo."

It was all Randa could do not to laugh.

"That is the most asinine thing I've ever heard! It's . . . it's comical!"

"Yeah, well, I've got a nineteen-year-old stock boy over at the county morgue with a bullet wound in his chest and he ain't laughing very much."

"Well, if you think Cam had anything to do with it, you're out of your mind!"

The incredulity in her voice raised it an octave.

"What makes you so sure?" the young one asked, in his best Sergeant Friday voice. (Evidently trying to redeem his manhood, in light of his two failed pass attempts.)

"In the first place, Cam had more integrity, more humanity, than anyone I've ever known . . ." For the first time she choked up. She swallowed hard, and continued. "And he hated guns. He would never have touched a gun, much less shot someone. And then there's the fact that he'd just signed a book deal with a three hundred thousand dollar advance, which would pretty much alleviate the need to rob a liquor store!" She was practically yelling at them, which was a waste of adrenaline. This whole thing was from The Twilight Zone.

"Three hundred thousand dollars?" It was the older one who spoke, but the younger one's eyes glazed over with the sudden knowledge that he was in the wrong business. The older one recovered and continued.

"How do you know that if you haven't talked to him in a year?"

Because all of my so-called friends sent me every clipping they could get their hands on, just in case I hadn't heard.

"I read it in Publishers Weekly."

The older guy nodded as if his subscription had just lapsed, then went on.

"Well, be that as it may . . ." He looked down at his desk for a moment, then back up. His eyes met Randa's. He was obviously gearing up for something.

"The neighbors told us some interesting things about Mr. Landry's family history, which I assume you know . . ."

So, there it was. Randa had figured they would end up here eventually.

"That's exactly why I know this is crazy."

"Why's that?"

"Because it is. Look, I knew Cam for a long time, and I knew him well."

"You hadn't seen him in over a year."

"I don't think he had a soul transplant in that time."

Then why did he do what he did to you? And why did it catch you so off guard, if you knew him so well? And what on earth was that phone call about? What about what he had said . . . what had he said? "I'm in trouble I didn't even know existed." Well, he certainly knew that liquor stores existed. But what about the witnesses? Could they have been that mistaken? No one on earth looked like Cam.

"Maybe he just had you fooled." Detective Ken again. His arrogance was now enhanced by a patronizing sneer. Randa abandoned all efforts to hide her contempt.

"I don't fool that easily."

They locked eyes, and Randa did not look away as another man approached the desk. She could hear him talking to the older detective as he rustled something out of a brown paper bag.

"Back closet . . . under a pile of clothes . . ." She looked up. The older detective was holding a plastic bag. Inside, marked with a small cream-colored tag, she saw the gun. Her entire body locked with disbelief. The man was still talking.

". . . Forensics dusted it, we're waiting . . . Ballistics said send it over, they're not busy. I said there's no rush, the guy's dead . . ."

"Rush anyway."

Randa stared at the gun. Were they saying it came from Cam's apartment? Behind her, Captain Arrogance could barely contain his glee.

"Well, what do you know? Looks like you fool easier than you think."

It was nearly dawn by the time Randa got home. She sat on her sofa in a stupor, as the sun rose and the room lit up around her. She could only think, she couldn't feel. Her emotions were locked in the bottleneck of information--Cam's death, the police, the guy at the liquor store, the gun--it was too much, it numbed her. All she could do was play this strange night in her head, over and over, searching for any part of an answer.

She had finished filing her column by six o'clock--the latest in a series of tirades on the sorry state of the Supreme Court. It would be her last rant on that topic for a while, since there had been too many letters complaining that it wasn't a "local issue." Really? LA is not going to be affected by the obliteration of the Constitution? Good, I'm living in the right place. In LA, a "liberal" readership meant people who wanted to hear from other liberals on the subjects of where to eat and what movies to see. Next week she'd go back to comparing trendy shopping districts, giving everyone a break now that she'd forced them to think for ten minutes.

She had settled back to zone out in front of a true-crime miniseries that had sounded promising in the reviews. She gave it about fifteen minutes before deciding the critics all had brain tumors and turned it off. She had tried writing a letter to her sister, but when she thought about what she'd say (work sucks; I'm on another stupid diet; it actually got below seventy here yesterday) it didn't seem worth wasting stationery over. She flipped through the latest issue of Rolling Stone but couldn't bring herself to care whether or not Heather Nova's latest album was better than her last one.

It was one of those nights that reminded her she'd inherited her mother's nerves. She was consumed by a feeling of lurking doom. It made no sense, especially on a Wednesday night with her work done. The paper came out on Thursdays, so Wednesday was usually her night to relax. Not that she was someone who ever really relaxed.

Looking back on it now, it was like she'd spent the night waiting for the phone call, as if some deep, hidden part of her had known it was coming.

She had been sleeping on the edge of the bed with her head near the nightstand, and the phone had scared the hell out of her. She hated middle-of-the-night phone calls. A wrong number or someone was dead--too wide a spectrum to prepare for on a moment's notice with a pounding heart.

"Hello!" She'd answered in a tone that demanded a quick explanation.


She'd recognized the voice instantly. Cam had a very distinctive voice, smooth and almost lyrical, with traces of an accent too watered-down to be placed. She'd always loved his voice. She had thought she would never hear it again. For a millisecond she considered hanging up on him, then asked herself who she thought she was kidding.


"I have to talk to you. It's really important. I know it's late, but I have to talk to someone and you're the only person I know who might believe this."

"Believe what?"

"I can't do it on the phone. Randa, it's crazy, it's . . . Look, you always said you'd do anything for me."

"Well," she said,"that was a long time and many erroneous perceptions ago."

"I know. We can talk about that, too. You don't know . . . you can't believe the things you don't know."

"Hell, I can't believe the things I do know."

"DAMMIT, RANDA!" It was so loud and so uncharacteristic, she almost dropped the receiver. "I'm in trouble! I'm in trouble that I didn't even know existed! Now are you going to get off your ass and help me or are you just going to send a nice wreath to the funeral?"

"Okay, calm down. I'll be over as soon as I can."

"No! Not here, you can't come here."

"All right. I'll meet you at Ray's."

"Okay. Hurry."

"Okay. Bye . . ."



The line was silent as he thought. "Nothing. Just hurry."

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Dark Debts 4.5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 6 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Guest More than 1 year ago
I bought this bargain, hardcover book on a whim for the sole reason that it will only cost me a dollar. I didn't expect it to be really good, but to my surprise it caught my attention from the very start and it didn't disappoint. The witty dialogues was a nice touch in this suspense thriller. The story per se, will instill fear and send you shivers. It was so interesting that I was tempted to snuck a lot of times on my review periods. I'm a medical intern and I'm used to nap on hospital beds in dark vacant rooms where people die but when I read this I chose to dozed of on a chair at the nurse's station. It was only for a couple of days though, I got over it.
honkcronk on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This is not a book I would normally choose to read as it is about the supernatural and demons. However, I saw it on the recommended shelf at the Book Thing in Baltimore. I have read many a good book found of these shelves. This book is a great weekend read and moves very quickly. I actually did not want to put it down and stayed up very late reading it last night. I would recommend this to anyone looking to read something for fun and escape. I did not find it scary. If you are a Roman Catholic you might be offended. I believe Rosemary's Baby was offensive to Roman Catholics when it was a bestseller and then a movie. A movie could easily be made from this and I might go to see this some summer night.
tomjohnson1940 More than 1 year ago
“Satanic Possession.” When Randa Phillips gets a call from her old boyfriend, Cam Landry, asking her to come over, she does, only to discover he has jumped from his widow in an act of suicide. To Randa, a newspaper reporter, it doesn’t make sense. Cam had just received a two hundred thousand dollar advance for his next book. Everything appeared to be going his way. Suicide could not be true. Now she felt responsible for getting his property to a brother that may not ever care that he had died. When Randa starts digging deeper into his background, she discovers a family secret so horrible it has resulted in many deaths and other atrocities. Father Michael Kinney, a catholic Jesuit priest is called in by family friends to talk to their son, whom the parents believe is possessed. What he finds is too big for him to handle alone, and the church power refuses to help him, so he seeks the aid of an independent priest who has performed exorcisms before, but the demon is too powerful for them, and before the church can save the boy he murders his parents, leaving Father Kinney feeling partly responsible. But when his mentor dies, he learns there is a deeper secret that goes beyond the boy, and connects to an evil even more powerful than he imagined, typing him into a family cursed through several generations. The writing was excellent, and the story moved smoothly. In a world of evil, when men are as evil as the demons they hope to defeat, the battle seems to be unwinnable. Demons know our weaknesses before we will admit them, and they use those weaknesses to possess our bodies. The author uses the Catholic Church and priests in this story, but she could have used men of any denomination, for men are sinful regardless of what cloth they wear. To see men trying to solve problems while wallowing in their own sin is likely a sin against God itself. First, we need to truly turn over our lives to Him before we can act for Him. That the world is filled with such sin can be seen all around us, and the author paints a clear picture of one family’s curse, but doesn’t notice how large the problem really is. Still, the painting is plain, and the message is clear. There is a war going on. A war between Good and Evil. I did get the impression that the author did not believe the Bible, her characters often calling it a book of fairy tales. I wasn’t so disturbed, as one reviewer was, by Jesus wearing jeens in the story, only that the Bible tells us when He returns, He will return in all His Glory, and all eyes will see Him. To have Him appearing to the priest in jeens, or anything else, was not a good idea. But I highly recommend this as a work of fiction. The story of a family possessed could give you nightmares – if you don’t have the Savior.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I absolutely could not put this book down and was surprised to see no other reviews. I have not stayed up all night to read (on a work day) since I was a teen. I am a parent and am not ashamed to say that I slept with the hall light on! I haven't felt fear like that in some time... well written once the action gets going. I will definately read more of this author.
Guest More than 1 year ago
You have to read the stories over again once you have read the ending. you can really get into it the second time. The only thing that confused me the first time I read it was there was a conversation that would go on between the main character and someone in her head. The only way you could tell them apart was the voice in her head was typed with a slant. But in the end you put it together in your head and it makes sense.