The Day He Died

In an old remodeled townhouse, surrounded by mementos of her uncle's explorations, Caroline wrote her stories, slept with barbiturates, and hid from terror that first bore the name and face of Ray Kerry -- and grew to have many names and faces: the one-time newspaper ace who looked like Memphistophales; the medium with the Byzantine eyes; the police lieutenant in Westchester; the nameless face of Incubus ticking its death watch in her walls. More terrible than any of these, the unseen presences that put plagiarisms in her manuscripts, left water taps dripping and lights burning -- the unseen presence that might be herself.
Written with mounting suspense toward a climax seldom equaled in fiction, the author of The Brass Ring with his second novel proves his right to a place at very near the top in the ranks of suspense writers. (from the book's front flap)