And they that have done Evil,
into everlasting fire.
Baltimore is a nice town,
if you don't mind the serial killers
​Vigilante Justice has an UP side, until Faith intervenes.

First Scene​​-Killing Stacy Culver
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First Scene, Book 1
​Killing Molly Braver
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First Scene, Book 2
Killing Jonas Braver
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DRB Manou
Another stunning mystery story by one of our best mystery writers.This thriller page-turner is waiting for you.

Richard D. Provost

For those of us who have experienced unresolved injustices small and large (i.e., everyone), D.B. Corey spins a revenge yarn that gives us the satisfaction of vicarious payback -- with extreme prejudice. Therapeutic stuff!

MJ LaBeff
Braver's struggle with her Catholic faith first comes into conflict with the death of her pregnant sister (The Lesser Sin) by a psychopath, the continued affection and intimacy she has for Sonja a coworker and then with the el Calle street gang infiltrating and taking over Baltimore and in particular her childhood neighborhood and home, corruption within law enforcement and the judicial system is the final push she needs to take things into her own hands and mete out justice Hanna Braver style. She really reminded me of the female version of John Wick.
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Mystery Author - Marni Graff 
When the end hits with a wallop, there will be one more twist that will surprise readers.
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Majestic Burroughs
Not your run of the mill case, but amind bending smart grotesque individual committing senseless selfish murders
AAMBC Book Reviews

Overall ~ a compelling read that kept me up until after midnight to reach the conclusion. It's hard to believe this is a debut novel because the work was polished 
and error free. 
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Linda Strong
This book ticks off all the boxes I look for in a mystery. The premise is deliciously enticing ...making it hard to put the book down for any reason.
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Dennis LaRaja
Hanna wants to kill a criminal - her sister's murderer who has been wrongly set free. The Lesser Sin is a very good book on many levels. As with Chain of Evidence, D. B. Corey's previous book, The Lesser Sin has the great writing that draws you into the story.
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Linda Thompson - Bookworm
… a book that was at the same time captivating yet disturbing, violent yet compassionate. DB Corey’s The Lesser Sin kept me up at night….
The character development in this novel is outstanding and Corey’s writing can easily be compared with that of John Sanford, Michel Connelly and even Patricia Cornwell.
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Amazon Customer - Diana Strine
… will have you asking yourself many profound questions, some of which you may never have a concrete answer!
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F. J. Talley
The tension and conflicts started on page one, yet Corey manages to weave an entertaining and engaging story throughout all of its pages without letting up. 
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More reviews to come!
​Stay tuned.

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  1. Reaching the garage, she paused to reflect on the bullet-riddled Rubbermaid garbage can before tossing the kitchen bag in. A light breeze kicked up as she rolled the can down the drive, rustling autumn leaves across the lawn and bringing the unexpected scent of cigarette smoke.

    She spotted two men across the street dressed in jeans and dark hoodie sweatshirts—late teens, early twenties maybe—smoking and leaning against a tricked-out street racer that didn’t belong; the same type car used in the drive-by killing of her father two weeks ago.

    The men were small—not American men—with one taller than the other. The tall one spoke Spanish to the short one.

    “Tiempo para enseñar una lección a esta perra.”

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  2. Spanish was one of the world languages in addition to English, German, and French. Hanna spoke them all fluently along with several more. She understood what the man said. They were there to ‘teach her a lesson.’ She eased into a defensive stance that appeared relaxed and easily overpowered to the untrained eye.

    The men pushed off from the car and flicked their cigarettes into the night, and the embers swirled on the breeze. They started across the deserted neighborhood street with a nearly synchronized stride.

    No one was about, and the evening was quiet, save for the rustle of fallen leaves. The crescent moon cast a weak light, and the men looked her up and down before the tall one spoke. 

    “You talk to la policía, no?” he said, his teeth showing crooked in an overconfident grin. “You think maybe you get us to jail?”
    Hanna examined their faces in the eerie light of the moon. They had the marks she remembered from the drive-by attack—the scar and the missing ear.

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  3. Never taking her eyes off the young Latinos carted away in cuffs, she scrutinized the screen, looking for the marks that would identify the two men that attacked her family. But the night footage was poor, and the high-powered light from the video camera turned faces away denying her a definitive look.

    A dog food commercial replaced the news segment and Hanna turned the TV off. Sweeping a few breadcrumbs from the tabletop onto her paper plate, she tossed everything into the trash, and in doing so, realized the can needed emptying. She pulled the plastic bag from the kitchen can and knotted the yellow plastic ties, then hauled it to the front door leaving her jacket on the couch. The sweats she’d slipped into when she got home would fend off the cool temperature for the short time she’d be outdoors.

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  4. An attractive, thirty-something, tawny-haired blonde sat with elegant posture behind an anchor desk backed by a green-screen video presentation. Reading from the teleprompter with little emotion, she reported on a series of shootings and assaults as if she were directing a lost traveler.

    The incidents occurred in the little town just south of Hanna’s home in Chase—just a mere ten-minute drive. Anymore, Hanna thought these attacks too commonplace. The late-night news anchor stated that the authorities knew the shootings to be part of a turf war between rival gangs, one of which being El Calle—a particularly brutal ring.

    The name caught Hanna’s attention. She recalled the conversation with Detective Sosa and his mention of El Calle, the gang he believed involved in the attack on her family. Hanna watched the video with renewed interest, finishing her milk as she peered at the TV. 

    Keep reading!
    Flashes of her harrowing escape from the Maryland State Trooper transitioned to those of her elders and their bullet-riddled bodies. Her thoughts harden to laser focus on the street filth that murdered her father and relegated her aunt to an assisted living center, and beyond that, the anemic police force that did little more than regurgitate dogmatic bullshit extoling criminal rights. They knew the street gang, they knew the killers, and they did nothing. Even with Hanna’s eyewitness identification, the police did not arrest them. Nor would the State’s Attorney convene a Grand Jury to indict them, and to Hanna’s reckoning, both for the same reason.

    The system was corrupt.
    But Hanna knew the killers too: The earless one and the scar-face one. They come to her in nightmares.


    Keep reading!
  6. ​Outrunning the State Police chase-car two months earlier had forced Hanna to reengage the Chevelle’s nitrous system exceeding the limits of the engine, but doing so did not damage the Chevelle’s motor as much as she had thought. All that smoke from burning oil left a thin film on the interior, much like sweat on human skin, and as such, the odor made it seem much worse than it really was. A thorough detailing removed the film and the odor, and left the black leather interior with that new-car smell. Beyond that, all it took to put the Chevelle’s power plant back together was a new set of pistons and rings, a new motor mount, some new gaskets, and a bit of precision machining. As ironic as it seemed, it was good fortune the Chevelle was in the speed shop the day of the gang drive-by, for its absence in the garage prevented its destruction.

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  7. Minutes became hours as time slipped away, turning a quick shakedown cruise into something more medicinal. The sun had set and a cold house greeted Hanna when she arrived back home Friday evening. Indian summer had lasted straight through September into October, but now autumn was closing in, and the evening had a bite to it.

    Hanna fired up the furnace for the first time since last winter and caught the smell of new-heat drifting from the vents. Rubbing her arms to ward off the chill, she made her way to the kitchen, layered a bed of lettuce on a Kaiser roll, and piled on several slices of domestic ham. Avoiding the mayo, she topped it with a huge meaty slice of blood-red autumn tomato. Pouring a glass of milk, she settled in at the kitchen table before tuning in FOX45 News at Ten.



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  8. Hanna picked up the Chevelle from the performance shop 6 a.m. Friday morning; its repairs complete. She took the car out on the highway for a quick shakedown, motoring north on I-95 towards the Delaware state line.
    The October sun rose in the crisp morning sky, and Hanna took a moment to admire the tapestry of autumn—the reds and the burgundies, the yellows and the browns—oils on a pristine blue canvas; and regardless of her disagreements and occasional anger with Him, when in the presence of simple miracles such as this, she realized how underappreciated God really was. 

    That He had given her a sign the day her father died was undeniable. Her task now, was to interpret His meaning. 

    The newly rebuilt 454 Corvette motor ushered the Chevelle along without effort, its throaty exhaust droned with precise monotony, and as the countryside ambled past, Hanna became lost in thought.

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  9. The men advanced toward her, the taller one producing a black semi-auto from his waistband at the small of his back. He was still too far away, so in an effort to draw them closer, she remained stationary as they approached.

    “Maybe we teach you a little lesson tonight, puta!”

    Hanna remained motionless, cowering, appearing as a deer in headlights frozen with fear. The smaller man stopped short, smirking as the tall one advanced to within two feet of her, the gun pointed at her head.

    “Please,” she begged, “don’t hurt me.”

    His grin widened as he began to mock her. It was the last mistake he would ever make.

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Kudos for Chain of Evidence

​​Author D. B. Corey's debut novel, "Chain Of Evidence,” reveals a remarkable talent for the suspense/thriller genre of mystery fiction. Readers will appreciate the deftly crafted characters vividly embedded the high-action storyline laced with surprise twists and turns. Appreciative readers will look eagerly toward Corey's next literary effort! Appropriate for community library collections, "Chain of Evidence" is a highly recommended and thoroughly entertaining read.
Midwest Book Review 

Chain of Evidence, by D.B. Corey, is a debut mystery novel that will intrigue the reader from the first chapter. ... I found the book to be a well-written and interesting psychological study of both criminals and the persons attempting to hold them accountable. The 'Chain of Evidence' does ... lead the reader ... to logical conclusions.

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Chain of Evidence

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