Suspense, Mystery, Horror and Thriller Fiction
AUGUST 2013
Shorter Days Mean
Longer Nights With...
Babette Anton
Reavis Wortham
Jon Land
Erica Spindler
Meet Debut Author
Antonio Hill
Jodie Renner On
Adding Tension, Suspense, & Intrigue
to Your Story
Bad Guy Boot Camp
By John Gilstrap
“This second tale featuring Louisiana Federal District Judge
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Superior . . . a wtarred review)
ekly (s
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Published by Emily Bestler Books
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in the Series!...
Available in Hard Cover,
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“Superior . . . Jock Boucher
finds himself in the midst of a conspiracy to set off
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“Jock Boucher, Cajun federal judge - turned - unlikely action hero,
returns....a solid, engaging thriller with a protagonist cut from a
different cloth.”
~ KIRKUS REVIEWS
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SuspenseMagazine.com
Should a thriller or
suspense novel have a
moral to it?
Many books, including those in the thriller/
suspense genre, have some sort of moral value. I
remembering reading Dr. Seuss as a kid and not
understanding what he was trying to teach us, but
now I get it; and before you say Dr. Seuss is not suspenseful, I would say you haven’t read
“The Cat in the Hat.” I’m still wondering how they got the house all back together again
and not having their mom find out.
One contemporary author who does a great job of placing an underlying moral lesson
in his books is Ted Dekker. He is not only telling a story but teaching basic principles that
are important to him. Other writers, especially those that work in the military/political
thriller genre, love to give their political opinions and ideas. They might not be moral
lessons, strictly speaking, but they’re still conveying underlying values that the authors
hold dear.
I do think that the author should have their characters show their values and beliefs,
to not only give them more depth, but make their plots that much richer. When an author
can look inward and discover exactly what type of writer they want to become, we enjoy
their work that much more. Just putting words on a page with no real sense of feeling?
That falls flat and readers likely won’t want to continue to buy books from those kinds of
authors.
I think it is just as important for readers to understand the author by doing a little
background research to see what they
talk about, who they are, where they
grew up, etc. That way, when you
read their books, you can tell right
away if they are putting their values
into their work, or if they’re simply
trying to put sentences together.
Without profound values and
morally driven characters, the thrill
will be gone quickly.
John Raab
CEO/Publisher
Suspense Magazine ■
“Reviews within this magazine are the opinions of the individual reviewers and are provided solely to provide readers assistance
in determining another's thoughts on the book under discussion and shall not be interpreted as professional advice or the opinion of any other than the individual reviewer. The following reviewers who may appear in this magazine are also individual clients of Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine: Mark P. Sadler, Starr Gardinier Reina, Ashley Dawn (Wintters),
DJ Weaver, CK Webb, Elliott Capon, J.M. LeDuc, S.L. Menear, and Amy Lignor.”
1
CONTENT
S u s p e n se M a g a z i n e
A u g u s t 2 0 1 3 / Vo l . 0 5 0
Lisa Gardner on Conquering the Dreaded Synopsis: Part Seven . . . . . . . . . .
3
From Their Pen...to the Silver Screen By CK Webb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
6
Excerpt of “Strong Rain Falling” By Jon Land. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
9
A Ghost Story By Laura Kathryn Rogers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
A Taste for the Truth: Meet Babette Anton. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
Adding Tension, Suspense, & Intrigue to Your Story By Jodi Renner. . . . . . 21
Interview with a Monster: The Salem Witch File By Thomas Scopel. . . . . . . 25
Inside the Pages: Suspense Magazine Book Reviews. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31
Suspense Magazine Movie Reviews. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
Nightmare By James Cool . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
Rules of Fiction: Never Mind the @#$%&! Backstory By Anthony J. Franze. . . 50
Featured Artist: Alex Noreaga . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
53
Bad Guy Boot Camp By John Gilstrap. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
Stranger Than Fiction: America's First Serial Killer By Donald Allen Kirch. . . . 64
Excerpt of “Justice for Sara” By Erica Spindler . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
The HVAC Man By Doward Stevens. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76
Conquering the
Dreaded
Synopsis:
A Series of Ten Lectures
By Lisa Gardner
Press Photo Credit: Philbrick Photography
Lecture Seven:
Short Synopsis Outlines
Now that you have written a compelling opening and have
identified the key information to include in the main body of your
synopsis, you need a good organization system for your thoughts. In
all honesty, there is no wrong way to structure a synopsis. You can introduce characters by Zodiac sign if you want, as long
as your writing is strong and your logic is clear.
For most writers, however, having a generic outline is helpful. This way you know that you have included all the relevant
information in a logical manner. I’ve played around with many outlines in my time. Following are the two I like best.
The first is a character-focused outline, which is great for targeting editors who care more about the character or romance
angle of your story. (See Lecture One on the market.) The second outline is for plot-focused works and is great for snapshotting
your brilliant suspense novel.
In each outline, I’ve used details from my first suspense novel, “The Perfect Husband,” to help flesh out the examples. If
you’re still unclear about what constitutes a plot point, please refer back to Lecture Six. Hope you enjoy.
Short Synopsis Outlines
The Character-Focused Synopsis
This is a great approach for Harlequin/Silhouette or any other romance-oriented publisher. This outline is courtesy of
Dee Holmes, who has written for Silhouette IM, Silhouette Special Edition, Avon, and Berkley. Dee is a self-proclaimed “outof-the-mist” writer, meaning she hates to know the story before she writes it. If you are also an “out-of-the-mist” writer,
this method works well as it focuses on character conflicts instead of specific plot points. Thus you can provide a
preview of your novel, without learning so much about the story that you lose interest in writing it. This outline
is also a nice exercise for character development.
SuspenseMagazine.com
3
HOOK: Either a unique opening line from a character’s perspective, or a snappy/humorous/dramatic opening line previewing
the book’s premise. From “The Perfect Husband” (TPH), Tess Williams knows about fear. She knows how the floorboards
in an old house can creak at night, each stair giving way as a shadowy man comes closer, closer, closer. For Tess Williams,
that man was her own husband, coming to get her after she turned him over to the police for allegedly killing eight women.
That night began with her husband attacking her with a baseball bat while their four-year-old daughter slept down the hall.
That night ended with Tess firing the shot that finally wounded Jim enough to halt the attack. Jim went to jail. Tess and her
daughter tried to get on with their lives. But now Jim Beckett has broken out of prison. He has killed two prison guards. He
has promised to come after his ex-wife. Tess Williams knows about fear…
INTERNAL CONFLICT: Two paragraphs, one for the heroine and one for the hero, describing their relevant backstory
and the key internal conflicts they must overcome to find love. You want to focus on the layers here—the past marriages,
relationships with parents, or pivotal trauma that has molded your character and made her who she is. This internal conflict
will be overcome during the black moment, when your character realizes her weakness/fear and leaves it behind in the name
of love.
EXTERNAL CONFLICT: One paragraph, usually the set up that brings the hero and heroine together and establishes the
external conflict blocking their way. Could be the hit man trying to kill them, the brother’s name to clear, the serial killer
ex-husband, etc.
HERO AND HEROINE WORK TOGETHER: First plot point that makes the hero and heroine temporarily overlook
their differences to work together. In TPH, it would be when the hero, J.T., decides against his better judgment to take on the
heroine, Tess, as a client. So the external conflict makes the hero and heroine join forces despite their reservations.
INTIMACY: The forced contact of working together and of course, raging attraction, make the hero and heroine (h/h)
succumb to physical intimacy—whether first kiss, make love, whatever. For TPH, I’d skip to their first sex scene, since in
three pages I don’t have space to go over each “almost” moment.
MORNING AFTER: H/H promptly remembers all their fears, fall back on their internal conflicts and reject each other. In
TPH, J.T. falls back on his fear of commitment, not wanting to get involved, etc., etc.
SHOWDOWN/BLACK MOMENT: In TPH, the big showdown is Tess’s decision to serve as bait for her ex-husband.
Jim Beckett then storms the safe house and kills everyone in his path. This leads to Tess’s black moment, when she must
face down her fear and find the internal reserves to take on Beckett. She shoots him, thereby saving J.T.’s life, but also more
importantly, proving to herself that she is no longer a victim.
RESOLUTION: The bad guys are revealed/caught. H/H live happily ever after.
Plot-Focused Synopsis
The Plot-Focused Synopsis outlines key plot points and would be good for mainstream submissions where character
issues are of secondary importance.
HOOK: Same as above.
HEROINE INTRO: Who the heroine is, her primary goal and motivation. For Tess Williams in TPH, it would be that after
spending two years running in fear from her ex-husband, she’s determined to take a stand for herself and her daughter. All
she wants is someone to train her in the business of death.
HERO INTRO: Who the hero is, his primary goal and motivation. J.T. is a drunken ex-mercenary who wants to be left
alone. He believes he has failed all the people who were important to him, and the only emotions he allows himself now are
self-loathing and rage. He carries a great deal of rage.
VILLIAN INTRO: Who the antagonist is, his primary goal and motivation. Jim Beckett, former police officer
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Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
and husband, is a psychopath. He killed ten women before his wife and local authorities put him away. Now
escaped from prison, he has declared revenge upon everyone who put him there, especially his traitorous exwife, Tess.
SET UP/PLOT POINT ONE: Tess shows up at J.T.’s ranch asking for help. He refuses, but when she passes out, ends
up having to give her a room for the night. Facing a fresh round of persistent arguments in the morning, he half-heartedly
agrees to train her.
PLOT POINT 2: Beckett infiltrates the police task force to learn the status of his investigation. He then leaves the cops a
pointed message (dead body) that he’s still interested in finding his wife and capable of using the police to do it.
PLOT POINT 3: J.T.’s sister, an FBI agent, pays an unexpected visit. She is concerned by Tess’s presence and tracks down
Tess’s real identity by sending her fingerprints to the local police. Marion is aghast to learn that Tess is in legitimate danger
from her psychopathic ex-husband, and worse, Marion has just compromised her safety by involving the local police.
Everyone knows Jim Beckett is good at getting information from the cops. Now, everyone fears Jim Beckett will head to
Arizona, and Tess isn’t ready to face down her ex-husband.
TURNING POINT 1: Jim Beckett does not head to Arizona. He heads to central Massachusetts where he kills a police
officer and kidnaps his own daughter. The police mobilize in an even bigger way…but Jim Beckett is nowhere to be found.
PLOT POINT 4: Tess returns to Massachusetts against all advice, determined to face down her husband. Jim Beckett
promptly attacks Tess and J.T. at the crime scene. Only J.T.’s combat skills get them out alive. They are both injured…but now,
so is Jim Beckett.
TURNING POINT 2: Tess decides to lay a trap for her husband with herself as bait. She will wait out in their old house,
knowing that Beckett cannot resist the challenge of coming after her. Once and for all, it will be done.
RESOLUTION: Jim Beckett comes after Tess. By killing an FBI agent downtown, then taking out one of the rooftop snipers,
he splits the protective task force, and descends upon his terrified wife. He is no match, however, for the combined force of
J.T. and Tess. Beckett is killed. Tess’s little girl is recovered alive. Family reunited.
Conclusion
While there is no right or wrong way to organize a short synopsis, utilizing any given outline can be very helpful.
Something like a character-focused outline can help you highlight the romance element of your novel for the discerning
romance editor. Likewise, the plot-focused structure can help distill a complicated thriller into a tight reading experience for
the suspense-savvy editor. Knowing the preference of your target publisher will help you choose the right approach for your
synopsis.
Then, have fun with the outline. Work on a commanding opening and a clear summary of key scenes. Short synopses are
never as enjoyable as novels, but they can be tolerable. Next up: the long synopsis. ■
Lisa Gardner, a #1 New York Times crime thriller novelist, began her career in food service, but after catching her hair on fire
numerous times, she took the hint and focused on writing instead. A self-described research junkie, her work as a research analyst
for an international consulting firm parlayed her interest in police procedure, cutting edge forensics, and twisted plots into a
streak of internationally bestselling suspense novels, including her most recent release, “Touch & Go.”
With over twenty-two million books in print, Lisa is published in thirty countries. Her success crosses into the small screen with
four of her novels becoming movies and personal appearances on television shows.
Lisa lives in New Hampshire with her auto-racing husband and black-diamond skiing daughter. She spends her days writing in
her loft with two barky shelties and one silly puppy.
SuspenseMagazine.com
5
By CK Webb
I
t isn’t the easiest thing in the world to nail down your top ten movies, but it’s even harder to list your
top ten book to film adaptations. At least, it was for me. In the end, I came up with a list I believe has
something for everyone. I hope you agree.
Just to refresh your memory, here are my personal guidelines for determining a great book-to-film adaptation:
1. True to the book, with no weird new characters or twisted existing ones.
2. The actors in the movie are the right ones to play the characters in this book. (I know that every character
will not always feel 100 percent right, but I need to at least feel like the screenwriter and director actually
read the book).
3. Story and character development on the part of the screenwriter that makes the book/film better.
#5 The Pianist
The Pianist is a memoir about Polish composer Władysław Szpilman, written by Polish author Jerzy Waldorff.
Szpilman and Waldorff met in 1938 in Krynica and became fast friends.
The book is written in the first person as a memoir. It
tells the harrowing tale of Szpilman’s life as he attempts
to survive not only the German deportations of Jews to
extermination camps but also the 1943 destruction of the
Warsaw Ghetto, and the 1944 Warsaw Uprising that took
place at the end of World War II.
The book, originally titled, “The Death of a City,”
was first published in 1946. In the introduction to its
first edition, Jerzy Waldorff details how he kept the
story “as closely as he could” to the story told to him by
Szpilman. In the same year, novelists Jerzy Andrzejewski
and Czesław Miłosz wrote a screenplay based on the novel,
called, The Robinson of Warsaw. In the three years that
followed, a number of drastic revisions were requested by
the governing Communist Party. That put an end to Milosz’s
involvement.
The movie was released during the Conference of Poland’s
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Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Filmographers in Wisła on Nov. 19, 1949. It was met with criticisms of the
film’s politics. Further revisions were requested by the Communist Party,
and the movie was re-released in December 1950 under a different title:
The Unsubjugated City.
Because of Stalinist policy and the way Szpilman (Waldorff) conveyed
that not all Germans were bad and not all of the oppressed were good, the
book itself remained unpublished for more than fifty years.
The reprints of Szpilman’s memoir left out Waldorff, and led the reader
to believe that it was written by Szpilman. But according to Szpilman’s son,
Andrzej, his father was no writer, and in fact, it was Andrzej himself who
expanded the original version of the book and had it reprinted under a
new title, “The Pianist.”
At the beginning of the war, Szpilman and his family were herded
Władysław Szpilmana
together, as all Polish Jews were, and sent by train to concentration camps.
Source: www.szpilmanpianistawarszawy.pl
The train they were on took them to Treblinka, but Szpilman was
separated from the rest of his family on the journey. It would be the last he
would see of any of them. They each died in the camps before the war was over.
Szpilman was able to find work. Most Jews had been deported to camps, but the few that remained were needed to
demolish the walls of the now-empty Ghetto. The struggle for food and to simply survive was a daily venture. Somehow,
Szpilman made it through.
Eventually, Szpilman was promoted to “storeroom manager.” He organized the stores for the SS. It was during this time
that the Germans in charge of Szpilman’s group decided to allot each man five kilos of potatoes and a loaf of bread every day.
This was their way of making the Jews feel more comfortable and secure around the Germans. To get this food, the men were
allowed to choose a representative to go into the city with a cart every day and buy it for all of them. They would choose one
man from the group for the day that would be known only as “Majorek” or “Little Major” to Szpilman.
The Majorek was not only the collector of the food for the day but also the liaison for the Jewish Resistance in the Ghetto,
and kept the others up to date on the uprising and their plans. Hidden inside the food every day were weapons and ammo to
be passed out in the Ghetto and on to those in the Resistance by Szpilman. The Majorek was also Szpilman’s only connection
to what remained of his Polish friends and acquaintances on the outside. Through the Majorek, Szpilman’s escape was plotted
and planned out.
On February 13, 1943, Szpilman slipped through the Ghetto gate and met up with his friend, Andrzej Bogucki.
The time that followed meant having to change flats often to ensure that he would not be found. To pass the time,
Szpilman learned to cook intricate meals out of very little and also taught himself to speak English. Szpilman always had a
plan if escape from the Germans was impossible: he would commit suicide. The suicide would be far easier than the horrors
which would surely be inflicted upon him if he were caught.
Szpilman continued to live in hiding until 1944 when the Jewish Uprising began to unfold. Thousands of Jews, the last
of their kind in the country, banded together and began an assault on the remaining SS officers and infantries. On August
12, 1944, Szpilman’s suicide plan was almost a reality when the building he was hiding in was attacked by tanks and mortar
shells. As the flames whipped about Szpilman’s legs and the hot air sucked the oxygen from the room, he took the sleeping
pills. Fortunately, Szpilman’s extreme hunger and lack of food in the days prior to the event sent him straight to sleep,
skipping the final part of his plan, accidentally.
When he awoke, the flames had receded and so had the enemy.
Szpilman moved in shadow for the next days and weeks until he found himself back in his original building. By this time
there were few others who shared the same buildings and streets.
By November, Szpilman was near death from starvation and knew that hypothermia would soon follow. Out of
desperation, he ventured down from his attic sanctuary and made his way to the kitchen to try his hand at getting the stove
lit. Hunger had taken all sense of fear from Szpilman. He was discovered by a German officer. After making a trade of liquor,
the officer left, but said he would return. When he did, he was not alone. Hearing the footsteps, Szpilman climbed higher and
higher in the attic until he could not be seen and there he waited.
Szpilman, chased from one building to another, tried to keep hidden on rooftops. It worked for a while, but it wasn’t long
before he was discovered and almost killed by German guards on another rooftop.
SuspenseMagazine.com
7
Szpilman found a building that had multiple floors and
made his way to the highest part of the attic. After some
days, hunger again sent Szpilman out from the confines of
the attic in search of food. It was then that he was discovered
for the last time.
When confronted, the German officer asked Szpilman’s
occupation. His answer: “I was a pianist.”
Chopin’s Nocturne in C sharp minor was the tune that
Szpilman played for the officer. On a battered, out-of-tune
piano, Władysław Szpilman played that piano and somehow
won the heart of that German officer.
In the weeks that followed, the officer continued to visit
Szpilman daily, bringing food, water, and news of the evergrowing Soviet advance. When the officer’s unit was set to
move out, Szpilman was supplied with food, water, and even
a German coat.
With nothing to offer, Szpilman offered the only payback
he could think of: he told the officer that if he ever needed
anything, to look him up on Polish Radio.
The Soviets finally arrived on January 15, 1945.
After the war was over, Szpilman was visited by a
violinist by the name of Zygmunt Lednicki. Lednicki told
Szpilman of a German officer he had met in a POW camp.
The officer.
When Szpilman and Lednicki returned to the place
where the camp had been, it and all of the prisoners were
gone. Szpilman spent the next five years trying to locate
the officer who had saved his life. He finally did. Wilm
Hosenfeld was being kept in a Soviet concentration camp
and no amount of pleading by Szpilman could change it. In
spite of Szpilman’s exhaustive efforts, Wilm Hosenfeld died in captivity in 1952.
The Pianist was adapted for screenplay and directed by Roman Polanski. It hit theaters in 2002.
The Pianist was greeted with critical praise and received multiple awards and nominations. The film was awarded the
Palme d’Or at the 2002 Cannes Film Festival. At the 75th Annual Academy Awards, The Pianist won Oscars for Best Director,
Best Adapted Screenplay, and Best Actor in a Lead Role, and was also nominated for four other awards, including Best
Picture. It also won the BAFTA Award for Best Film and BAFTA Award for Best Direction in 2003 and seven French Césars
including Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Actor for Adrien Brody.
Władysław Szpilman would never see the film that told his inspiring tale. Sadly, he passed away during the filming.
No film has ever kept more closely to its roots than The Pianist. If you have not read the book, let me say that the film is
almost its twin. There is very little, if anything, that was left out or contorted and it is because of this that I have “The Pianist”
as not only one of my all-time favorite books but also one of my favorite films.
In the end, some will question why I chose this particular book to film. It’s quite simple really…
Even though this is Suspense Magazine and we deal in thrillers, suspense, mystery, cozy, and horror, I believe that The
Pianist tackles each of these genres in its realness and raw visuals. It also exposes the delicate and sometimes horrible nature
of mankind.
It is, after all, the human condition that motivates us and propels us down the road on our separate journeys through
this life. There is no tale more mysterious, none more suspenseful or thrilling and none more horrifying than that lived by
a man trying to simply survive. ■
Remember… somewhere, someone is ALWAYS getting away with murder!
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Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Strong
Rain
Falling
By Jon Land
CHAPTER 1
Providence, Rhode Island
Caitlin Strong was waiting downstairs in a grassy park
bisected by concrete walkways when Dylan Torres emerged
from the building. The boy fit in surprisingly well with
the Brown University college students he slid between in
approaching her, his long black hair bouncing just past his
shoulders and attracting the attention of more than one
passing coed.
“How’d it go?” Caitlin asked, rising from the bench that
felt like a sauna in the sun.
Dylan shrugged and blew some stray hair from his face
with his breath. “Size could be an issue.”
“For playing football at this level, I expect so.”
“Coach Estes didn’t rule it out. He just said there were no
more first year slots left in the program.”
“First year?”
“Freshman, Caitlin.”
“How’d you leave it?” she asked, feeling dwarfed by
the athletic buildings that housed playing courts, training
facilities, a swimming pool, full gym and the offices of the
school’s coaches. The buildings enclosed the park-like setting
on three sides, leaving the street side to be rimmed by an
eight-foot wall of carefully layered stone. Playing fields took
up the rear of the complex beyond the buildings and, while
waiting for Dylan, Caitlin heard the clang of aluminum bats
hitting baseballs and thunks of what sounded like soccer
balls being kicked about. Funny how living in a place the size
of Texas made her antsy within an area where so much was
squeezed so close.
“Well, short of me growing another four inches and
putting on maybe twenty pounds of muscle, it’s gonna be an
uphill battle,” Dylan said, looking down. “That is, if I even get
into this place. That’s an uphill battle too.”
She reached out and touched his shoulder. “This coming
from a kid who’s bested serial killers, kidnappers and last
year a human monster who bled venom instead of blood.”
Dylan started to shrug, but smiled instead. “Helps that
you and my dad were there to gun them all down.”
“Well, I don’t believe we’ll be shooting Coach Estes and
my point was if anybody can handle an uphill battle or two,
it’s you.”
Dylan lapsed into silence, leaving Caitlin to think of the
restaurant they’d eaten at the night before where the waitress
had complimented her on having such a good looking son.
She’d felt her insides turn to mush when the boy smiled and
went right on studying the menu, not bothering to correct
the woman. He was three quarters through a fifth year at
San Antonio’s St. Anthony Catholic High School, in range
of finishing the year with straight “A”s. Though the school
didn’t formally offer such a program, Caitlin’s captain D.
W. Tepper had convinced them to make an exception on
behalf of the Texas Rangers by slightly altering their Senior
Special Preview from Jon Land
SuspenseMagazine.com
9
Connection program to fit the needs of a boy whose grades
hadn’t anywhere near matched his potential yet.
Not that it was an easy fit. The school’s pristine campus in
historic Monte Vista just north of downtown San Antonio was
populated by boys and girls in staid, prescribed uniforms that
made Dylan cringe. Blazers instead of shapeless shirts worn
out at the waist, khakis instead of jeans gone from sagging
to, more recently, what they called skinny, and hard leather
dress shoes instead of the boots Caitlin had bought him for
his birthday a few years back. But the undermanned football
team had recruited him early on, Dylan donning a uniform
for the first time since a brief stint in the Pop Warner league
as a young boy while his mother was still alive and the father
he’d yet to meet was in prison. This past fall at St. Anthony’s
he’d taken to the sport again like a natural, playing running
back and sifting through the tiniest holes in the defensive
line to amass vast chunks of yardage. Dylan ended up being
named Second Team All TAPPS District 2-5A, attracting
the attention of several small colleges, though none on the
level of Brown University, a perennial contender for the Ivy
League crown.
Caitlin found those Friday nights, sitting with Cort
Wesley Masters and his younger son Luke in stands ripe
with the first soft bite of fall, strangely comforting. Given
that she’d never had much use for such things in her own
teenage years, the experience left her feeling as if she’d been
transported back in time with a chance to relive her own
youth through a boy who was as close to a son as she’d ever
have. Left her recalling her own high school days smelling
of gun oil instead of perfume. She’d been awkward then,
gawky after growing tall fast. Still a few years short of forty,
Caitlin had never added to that five-foot-seven-inch frame,
although the present found her filled out and firm from
regular workouts and jogging. She wore her wavy black hair
more fashionably styled, but kept it the very same length she
always had, perhaps in a misguided attempt to slow time if
not stop it altogether.
Gazing at Dylan now, she recalled the headmaster of
his school, a cousin of Caitlin’s own high school principal,
coming up to her after the victorious opening home game.
“The school owes you a great bit of gratitude, Ranger.”
“Well, sir, I’ll bet Dylan’ll do even better next week.”
The headmaster gestured toward the newly installed
lights. “I meant gratitude for the Rangers arranging for the
variance that allowed us to go forward with the installation.
That’s the only reason we’re able to be here tonight.”
She’d nodded, smiling to herself at how Captain Tepper
had managed to arrange Dylan’s admission. “Our pleasure,
sir.”
Now, months later on the campus of an Ivy League
school in Providence, Rhode Island, Dylan looked down at
the grass and then up again, something furtive lurking in his
suddenly narrowed eyes. The sun sneaking through a nearby
10
tree dappled his face and further hid what he was about to
share.
“I got invited to a frat party.”
“Say that again.”
“I got invited to a party at this frat called D-Phi.”
“D what?”
“Short for Delta Phi. Like the Greek letters.”
“I know they’re Greek letters, son, just like I know what
goes on at these kind of parties given that I’ve been called to
break them up on more than one occasion.”
“You’re the one who made me start thinking about
college.”
“Doesn’t mean I got you thinking about doing shots and
playing beer pong.”
“Beirut.”
Caitlin looked at him as if he were speaking a foreign
language.
“They call it Beirut here, not beer pong,” Dylan continued.
“And it’s important I get a notion of what the campus life is
like. You told me that too.”
“I did?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I let you go to this party, you promise you won’t drink?”
Dylan rolled his head from side to side. “I promise I
won’t drink much.”
“What’s that mean?”
“That I’ll be just fine when you come pick me up in the
morning to get to the airport.”
“Pick you up,” Caitlin repeated, her gaze narrowing.
“I’m staying with this kid from Texas who plays on the
team. Coach set it up.”
“Coach Estes?”
“Yup. Why?’
Caitlin slapped an arm around the boy’s shoulder and
steered him toward the street. “Because I may rethink my
decision about shooting him.”
“I told him you were a Texas Ranger,” Dylan said, as they
approached a pair of workmen stringing a tape measure
outside the athletic complex’s hockey rink.
“What’d he think about that?” Caitlin said, finding her
gaze drawn to the two men she noticed had no tools and
were wearing scuffed shoes instead of work boots.
“He said he liked gals with guns.”
They continued along the walkway that curved around
the park-like grounds, banking left at a small lot where Caitlin
had parked her rental. She worked the remote to unlock the
doors and watched Dylan ease around to the passenger side,
while she turned back toward the hockey rink and the two
workmen she couldn’t shake from her mind.
But they were gone.
CHAPTER 2
Providence, Rhode Island
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
“What’s this WaterFire
thing?” Dylan asked, spooning up the last of his ice cream
while Caitlin sipped her nightly post-dinner coffee.
“Like a tradition here. Comes highly recommended.”
“You don’t want me going to that frat party.”
“The thought had crossed my mind, but I’m guessing the
WaterFire’ll be done ‘fore your party even gets started.”
Dylan held the spoon in his hand and then licked at it.
“How’s the ice cream?”
“It’s Gelato.”
“What’s the difference?”
“None, I guess.”
They had chosen to eat at a restaurant called Paragon,
again on the recommendation of Coach Estes, a fashionably
loud, lit, and reasonably priced bistro-like restaurant on the
student-dominated Thayer Street across from the University
bookstore. Dylan ordered a pizza while Caitlin ruminated
over the menu choices before eventually opting for what she
always did: a steak. You can take the gal out of Texas, she
thought to herself, but you can’t take Texas out of the gal.
“I hear this Waterfire is something special,” Caitlin said,
when she saw him checking his watch.
“Yeah? Who told you that?”
“Coach Estes. What do you say we head downtown and
check it out?”
***
They walked through the comfortable cool of the early
evening darkness, a welcome respite from the sweltering
spring heat wave that had struck Texas just before they’d left.
Caitlin wanted to talk, but Dylan wouldn’t look up from his
iPhone, banging out text after text.
They strolled up a slight hill and then down a steeper
one, joining the thick flow of people heading for the sounds
of the nighttime festival known as Waterfire. The air was crisp
and laced with the pungent aroma of wood smoke drifting
up from Providence’s downtown area, where the masses of
milling people were headed. The scents grew stronger while
the harmonic strains of music sharpened the closer they
drew to an area bridged by walkways crisscrossing a river
that ran the entire length of the modest office buildings
and residential towers that dominated the city’s skyline. A
performance area had been roped off at the foot of the hill,
currently occupied by a group of white-faced mimes. An
array of pushcarts offering various grilled meats as well as
snacks and sweets were lined up nearby, most with hefty lines
before them.
The tightest clusters of festival patrons moved in both
directions down a walkway at the river’s edge. Caitlin realized
the strange and haunting strains of music had their origins
down here as well and moved to join the flow. The black
water shimmered like glass, an eerie glow emanating from
its surface. Boaters and canoeists paddled leisurely by. A
water taxi packed with seated patrons
sipping wine slid past followed by what
looked like a gondola straight from Venice.
But it was the source of the orange glow reflecting off
the water’s surface that claimed Caitlin’s attention. She could
now identify the pungent scent of wood smoke as that of pine
and cedar, hearing the familiar crackle of flames as she and
Dylan reached a promenade that ran directly alongside the
river.
“Caitlin?” Dylan prodded, touching her shoulder.
She jerked to her right, stiffening, the boy’s hand like a
hot iron against her shirt.
“Uh-oh,” the boy said. “You got that look.”
“Just don’t like crowds,” Caitlin managed, casting her
gaze about. “That’s all.”
A lie, because she felt something wasn’t right, out of
rhythm somehow. Her stomach had already tightened and
now she could feel the bands of muscle in her neck and
shoulders knotting up as well.
“Yeah?” Dylan followed before she forced a smile. “And,
like, I’m supposed to believe that?”
Before them, a line of bonfires that seemed to rise out of
the water curved along the expanse of the Providence river
walk. The source of these bonfires, Caitlin saw now, were
nearly a hundred steel braziers of flaming wood moored to
the water’s surface and stoked by black-shirted workers in a
square pontoon-like boat, including one who performed an
elaborate fire dance in between tending the flames.
The twisting line of braziers seemed to stretch forever
into the night. Caitlin and Dylan continued to follow their
bright glow amid the crowd, keeping the knee-high retaining
wall on their right. More kiosks selling hotdogs, grilled meats
to be stuffed in pockets, kabobs, beverages, and souvenirs had
been set up above the river walk on streets and sidewalks.
The sights and sounds left her homesick for Texas, the sweet
smell of wood smoke reminding her of the scent of barbecue
and grilled food wafting over the famed San Antonio River
Walk.
Caitlin was imagining that smell when she felt something,
not much and not even identifiable at first, yet enough to make
her neck hairs stand up. A ripple in the crowd, she realized
an instant later, followed almost immediately by more of a
buckling indicative of someone forcing their way through it.
Instinct twisted Caitlin in the direction of the ripple’s origin
and the flames’ glow caught a face that was familiar to her.
Because it belonged to one of the workman she’d
glimpsed outside the hockey rink back at Brown University.
And the second workman stood directly alongside him,
hands pulling their jackets back enough to reveal the dark
glint of the pistols wedged into their belts. ■
Special Preview from Jon Land
SuspenseMagazine.com
11
A Ghost Story
By Laura Kathryn Rogers
“The thing is… Ghosts are real.”
The old man was telling me this just as I warmed my hands over his excellently built campfire. I was soaked to the skin,
cold and shivering, and just like a miracle (which I thought it was at the time) had stepped out of the woods to find this man
and be welcomed to share his fire.
He seemed a jovial, full of beans type, with nary a tooth in his head and abundant white hair which had not seen a comb
for a while. He wore an old, black, battered felt hat that had been, in its time, possibly a dress hat for someone. Now the felt
was tamped down, there were tears along the edges, and it, like its owner, reminded me somewhat of a museum exhibit of a
1930’s era hobo.
“Glad you got here.” He was saying. “I’ve been wanting a little company, but I have to warn you. You won’t get much sleep.
I love to talk. And you’re the only fella out here…well, since I don’t even know when, since God was a pup.” He looked around
nervously, then chuckled, as if pleased with himself.
“Really?” I didn’t know what else to say, but was glad of the offer to stay for a while. I had been hiking, sure of my
directions in some deep woods outside of Lexington, Kentucky, which, according to the tourist information, offered great
views of birds, native wildlife, and possible Native American artifacts. I thought I’d go off the beaten trail and look around
a bit. I didn’t worry; after all, I was within a fifteen minute drive of Lexington. Who could get lost so close to a major city?
Hours later, I realized that I had been circling the same approximate area, sinking in mud from a relentless storm that
started, without warning, about fifteen minutes after I left the path. And try as I might, I could not find the path that I had
left. I am not the type to get scared, but as time passed, I was a little spooked.
The way I knew I was going in a hopeless circle was I kept passing this burnt down little shack. So, I turned and walked
the other way, and found that I had somehow gotten up in some steep hills. Muddy ones. Then, without knowing how it
happened, I slipped and began rolling. It seemed like every tree I passed wanted to reach out and thrash me, add to the
painful fall. I felt intense pain in my head as I hit a large rock just before I got to the bottom. I felt like my leg should be
broken. However, when I tried it out, standing up, I found both legs were fine. I was covered with mud, leaves and was
probably bleeding from a dozen places, but other than a light headache, I felt okay.
Looking around, I saw that I was back at the clearing on the other side of the burned out shack. But this time there was
more to it. There was a relatively new looking tombstone, and what looked to be recently disturbed ground. I hadn’t seen it
before because what was left of the shack would have been in front of it. Normally I was curious, and would have looked at
the letters on the tomb, and the date, if any, telling me when its occupant had made his or her great departure. But now, I was
cold, hungry, soaked from the rain, had a headache from the fall, and just wanted to go home.
I thought about my comfortable townhouse in Lexington, near work, near everything. No slippery cliffs anywhere to be
found. The nearest tombstone miles away in a sedate cemetery. I wanted a hot shower, strong coffee, and peroxide for my
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13
scrapes and wounds. And Tylenol, blessed Tylenol. If I could only find my Jeep. I was willing to admit that maybe, I was lost.
Not maybe, damn it, I was. Lost. And the first step in regaining sanity was to stop doing the same stupid thing over and
over and calling it blessed. So I stopped, right there on the trail I had repeatedly tried to follow before my fall, and looked
around me for other, safer alternatives. Wondered if my cell phone would be able to call out from the middle of nowhere, and
then realized glumly, I’d left it in the Jeep.
Then I heard someone singing, in a pitiful, high pitched tune that sounded strangely both feminine and masculine. But
no, it was a man—definitely a man.
He was singing about ghost riders in the sky, a tune Johnny Cash had covered, and one that I liked. The rain had stopped,
and a mist was rising up from the ground. In the distance, the ruins of the old shack were beginning to be obscured by the
fog-like weather. The combination of the mist and the ruins had a theatric effect on me. I wanted to get the hell out of there
and be around others, any others, just know that I was not alone.
I rushed through the tightly clustered trees and brambles, feeling some of them tear at my jeans, wrap themselves around
my hiking boots like a lover’s insistent and passionate fingers. I covered what seemed to be miles, but didn’t seem to get any
closer to the singer, the sound seeming just as far away as it had been.
I took deep chest-fulls of breath, hoping to either find the cowboy-song singer, or to find the road where I’d left my Jeep
Cherokee parked. Panic started tickling my throat, and even though I was thirty-six years old, a grown and mature man by
most standards (except perhaps by my ex-wife, and she didn’t count) I had this strange and unreasonable desire to cry.
I was lost. And I didn’t like it one damn bit.
Just then, I crashed through some hip-high weeds and there he was. The wearer of the black felt hat. That sound that
stopped mid-verse when he saw me. The toothless welcoming grin. There was even the smell of cooking, though I saw
nothing over his large, strongly burning fire.
“Hello there, son,” he’d called.
Within a few seconds we had mutually established the kind of trust that comes mostly by instinct, with a partial mix of
self-interest. He had what I needed, a warm fire, a place to rest and dry out, perhaps directions on how to get the hell out of
there and back to my Jeep. I had…well, let’s hope I had something he wanted in return. Something I was willing to trade for,
at least.
“You’ve got that look,” he’d said, still cheerful, stirring the bounteous fire with a large stick, doing it just enough so that
the stick didn’t catch fire, though seemingly without real thought. “Oh, don’t feel bad. You’re not the first feller to lose his way
up here. These here woods are treacherous.” He spit a long line of something dark and unpleasant looking into the fire, and
nodded at the resulting hiss when it hit. “Treacherous,” he repeated, as if saying the word for his own pleasure.
Then he had invited me to sit at his fire.
How that conversation had turned to ghosts, I’ll never know, and only something like hypnosis could get the real truth
out. He’d shared an excellent stew with me, told me it was venison with some local herbs and roots that were only found in
this part of Kentucky.
He seemed like the talker of the two of us, and as I was hungry and tired, but no longer in pain from the fall, I was happy
with it being that way. He talked in the almost manic manner of someone who has been too long alone, talking tangentially,
going down a half dozen rabbit trails, connecting them, coming back to the central point. This went on a long time, and I only
half listened, feeling a pleasant sense of drowsiness start to fill my body. But the old man would not have any of it.
“Hey! You there. Don’t go to sleep on me! I want to talk! What do folks call you, anyway?”
“Wendell Alton Wallingford,” I said, disappointed about not getting to take my snooze, but there was always later. At
least I was somewhere safe, had gotten a good meal, and was no longer alone. “My mother gave me that name. Sounds stuffy,
doesn’t it? Anyway, it doesn’t matter. My friends all call me Al.”
“What does your mother think of that?” the old man asked with a trace of humor in his eyes.
“My mother’s dead. She died when I was thirteen. I don’t know who my father was. She wouldn’t tell me. We lived in
Indiana. After Mom died, I was put in foster care, but I couldn’t stand strangers pushing me around. One night, when I was
fourteen, I climbed out the window and got on a train, met a few guys who do that kind of thing…ride trains. They taught
me the life. Time foster care tracked me down, I was a month away from my eighteenth birthday, and there wasn’t much they
could do except slap me on the back and wish me well.”
“Earl Winthrop….that’s my name, son,” the old man said, spitting out another thick spew of the juice in his mouth. “Well,
you’re pretty far away from any train now…or even a railroad track.”
14
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
I nodded, dishing up the last bowl of the magnificent stew. “Yeah. I was tired of it by then. I went and got my GED, got
lucky with some scholarships and now I’m one of people who push kids around…well, not really. I’m a social worker with
angry kids, just like I used to be.”
“So what brings you here?”
I sighed deeply. “Well, sometimes you need a break. I took a four day weekend to hike this area. Didn’t know I was going
to have this kind of adventure, though.”
“No one ever does. And this area is treacherous. Just treacherous,” Earl said.
I thanked him for the meal and the chance to get warm, and got to my feet. “What’s your hurry, boy?” Earl stood up, and
I was impressed by what a strong little man he was, very compact, very old, but very much able to fend for himself. “Sit on
down. Like I said. I have an extra bedroll if you get worn out and can’t listen to an old man anymore. Once you’re rested, we’ll
talk about where you should go from here.”
I grinned at him. “But not before?”
He gave out a toothless chortle. “That’s the deal, son. That’s the deal.”
I sat back down, and found I was no longer sleepy. I remember something he was saying when I first sat down. “What’s
that you say about ghosts?” I asked, thinking if ever there was a great campfire and location to tell scary stories, this would
be it.
He leaned over, putting his wrinkled face so close to mine that I could smell the dental-decay tinged breath. “I said they
are real. Ghosts, I mean.”
“Have you seen one?” I asked politely, picking up my own stick to stir the still roaring fire.
“Oh, I think we all have,” he said, thoughtfully, “Just weren’t sure what we saw.”
“Hmmm?” I asked. Then, I realized that I could see the trees behind him, but not just behind him. Through him. For
a second, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t feel my heart beat. I had seen some rough things on my teenaged train rides, but I’d
never seen…a ghost.
Then, he was solid again. And I was asking myself about the contents of the stew. He laughed out loud.
“Nothing in that stew, boy. We, ah, spectral types are out of the living world, in a way, just enough to where we can hear
the things you say or think if we focus in on it. You’re not in any danger, I assure you.”
When I found my voice, minutes or maybe an hour later, he’d fixed some campfire coffee. I notice he didn’t drink any.
And I hadn’t seen him eat, either.
He made a wry face and shook his head. “Had plenty. Get my age, you don’t need much.”
“And what age is that?” I asked politely.
“Well, I died in 1972. Right out here in these woods. Quicksand got me.”
I considered the information. The fall, the knock to the head, hunger, cold, wet, maybe I was delirious. Maybe I hadn’t
eaten at all. Maybe this all was just a dream. However, I decided to be social, just in case it was not.
I asked the obvious. “That your tombstone back in the clearing?”
Earl considered the question for a moment. “No, no. That grave belongs to someone else…” He got an odd look on his
face, and reached in a pouch for fresh tobacco. “That’s one of the good things about being dead…boss makes sure I never
run out.”
“Boss?” I asked, feeling more and more creeped out about a man I could sometimes see through, but who could still eat,
chew, and cook like a mere mortal.
“God, I guess you would call him. I was never very friendly with him up till the whole quicksand thing. We got conversant
in a hurry then. Just enough, I guess. He looks out for me now, and gave me a job here…”
“What job?”
“I look for lost folks, just like yourself. But like I said, I haven’t seen a whole lot lately. I guess most folks know about these
woods. Wonder why you don’t, being from Lexington and all.”
“I knew they were only for experienced hikers, but that’s me. But the whole God thing…I’m not sure I believe in all
that…”
Earl gave me a stern look, and I could see the trees through him again. He faded until I could barely see vapors that
resembled the old man. I realized quickly that no matter what condition I might be in, I didn’t want to be alone.
“Hey, come back,” I said. “I am not trying to hurt your feelings…it’s just a lot to buy all at once.”
Earl obliged me by resuming his human-like appearance. “Oh, you’re all alike. All kinds of questions, all kinds of doubts.
SuspenseMagazine.com
15
Skeptics.”
“No kidding,” I said, “So, you’re a ghost.”
“Well,” he spat his tobacco juice. “I guess you might say so. But I’m not the only one.” He looked at me intently. “Like I
said, I have a job to do.”
“Which is?”
“I introduce folks to the afterlife, especially when they’ve joined it.”
Again he gave me that queer look of sympathy mixed with…determination?
“You’re not going back home, son.”
I stood up, ready to bolt. I noted the trees around the fire seemed thicker, almost like a wall.
I reached out my hand in silent entreaty to Earl…and saw him through it.
And I tried to scream, but found that what came out sounded just like wind that had gone along with the storm. I got up
and ran into the thick woods, fighting desperately to break through them, winning. Hoping I’d leap out and see my Jeep, wake
up in my own warm bed. Wake up in a hospital in Lexington, being told I had a bad bump on my head.
I saw the old shack. My heart sank. I saw the tombstone with the fresh ground. I saw something blue near it on the
ground. I walked over, and saw it was a jacket. One like mine. I picked it up and examined the contents. It was mine.
I held out my arms, which should have been in the jacket, and saw the same one. Saw through the same one. My knees
felt weak. I trembled like a child fresh from a nightmare.
“I didn’t put your name on the grave. Didn’t know it at the time.” Earl was behind me. I turned, saw the compassion on
his face. “It’s true. The rocks around here don’t forgive much.”
“So I have to stay here? With you?” I asked.
“Seems like. But that’s not the worst thing that coulda happened. You could have woke up in the other place…I
hear them scream sometimes. You will too, but you learn not to let it bother you too much. After all, they chose.”
He turned and headed back where he came. “Come on back when you feel like it. Glad the boss gave me
some company, a new co-worker, so to speak.”
I looked after him, and then back at the grave.
He looked over his shoulder. “Oh, one more thing, son. But I guess you know now,” he said.
I turned to follow him.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Ghosts ARE real,” he said, heading back to the light of the eternal campfire. ■
16
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
A TASTE FOR THE
Meet Babette Anton
TRUTH
I
had the privilege of meeting Babette Antoniak—
pen name Babette Anton—two years ago at an
alumni function for our sorority, Delta Gamma. She
had brought her latest book with her and I immediately
introduced myself and wanted to talk, being a writer myself.
And I was right…we had a lot to talk about.
Babette’s book “The Parking Spat Murder,” was selected
as one of the best of 2011 books for Suspense Magazine in the
category of true crime, which made me happy for her.
We have kept in touch and I have found her to be witty,
compelling, and profound in her views of life and society
in our present world. Babette avidly keeps up with current
events and is in between manuscripts, waiting for the next
story to find her. She says that she knows when she hears
about a news item whether it will be something that she
would like to investigate further and she is fearless in her
search for information, despite threats—yes, threats—and
the difficulty of finding the information she needs for telling
the whole story.
Babette’s latest book, “Dead End Journey,” is about the
disappearance of Holly Bobo, a girl from Henderson County,
Tennessee who went missing in April 2011. It’s getting great
reviews on Amazon.com. Both “The Parking Spat Murder”
and “Dead End Journey” are available on Kindle. And “An
East Tennessee Nightmare Lying In Wait” is available in
paperback. Amazon has all three, so check them out.
I was able to interview Babette recently for Suspense
Magazine, and the information I gathered is just as
interesting as she is herself.
Interview by Holly Price
In the fourth grade I was praised for an essay I wrote on
“contour plowing” after visiting the Tennessee mountains. Now,
how did that young effort to explain something in writing lead
to True Crime? Only the shadow knows.
Then my family moved to Clearwater, Florida when I was
entering my senior year of high school. The move, according
to other kids, was supposed to go badly. Instead, that total
experience was merely a continuation of “Happy Days”—as in
the ’50s TV program.
My earliest real connection to reading/writing was community
theatre. I began performing at seven, got a scholarship at
fifteen, and continued until I was an adult with small children.
My last performance was in Oak Ridge, Tennessee.
S. MAG.: Were you born with a love for books? When did
you realize that you wanted to be a writer?
B.A.: I was born with a passion for libraries. As a small child,
my mother recognized my need to pick up the scent of the
Suspense Magazine (S. MAG): Tell us about your formative
years: Where did you grow up and were you always a writer?
Babette Anton (B.A.): I grew up in Fort Wayne, Indiana.
During my formative years, I was as inquisitive then as I
am now, which to me as a child, meant finding answers to
questions that could only be discovered within a book or by
listening to interesting adults. Kids listened more then.
SuspenseMagazine.com
17
library every two weeks, along with choosing the number of
titles allowed and watching the librarian’s perfunctory routine
of silently rubber-stamping my chosen books. Yes, long prior to
thinking about romantic love, I fell in love with books.
S. MAG.: Why do you prefer writing true-crime books?
Would you ever consider writing fiction?
B.A.: True-crime writing asks the writer/investigator to remove
fiction from the truth in order to uncover those hidden and
yet to be discovered answers. This is challenging and difficult.
Most often it means pursuing right over might. Believe me, a
true-crime writer must have the courage of her convictions to
keep going forward. Many people are unwilling to participate
even when they have knowledge that could help. More often
this is due to their fear of reprisal! I just prefer truth over fiction
in my life.
S. MAG.: How do you decide what you want to write about?
B.A.: I cannot write unless inspired by the circumstances
of the case. My first book was the result of being threatened
with death by a group of family members who surrounded
me while photographing the scene of a crime. That was all
it took to motivate me to write “East Tennessee Nightmare.”
Coincidently, the publisher selected that photo I took for my
book’s cover.
S. MAG.: How do you do your research? Are you ever able to
talk to the people directly involved in the story?
B.A.: I am truly a sleuth. I work large numbers of people who
are willing to talk on the edges of each crime. Then I begin to
work closer in. I seldom speak to anyone who law enforcement
has spoken to or had their rights read to them. Yet, fortunately
I will be told things unexpectedly by those involved who want
to leak something to me. Since I stick closely to the facts of
what I learn, I have yet to use misguided information; but it
does help me personally to generate
leads and characterize the nature of
criminal acts and criminal minds.
S. MAG.: Have you ever revisited a book you wrote to update
readers on subsequent developments?
B.A.: I only revisit a book when speaking with book clubs.
Additional circumstances of a crime are often made public
after the book is published and read. Such opportunities ask
readers to act as detectives themselves, which they are often
quite good at it.
S. MAG.: What do you enjoy most about being an author?
B.A.: I enjoy the demands of writing. I guess I would label it
“positive, productive escapism.” I am somewhat of an introvert.
And I am naturally good at problem-solving—even while I
sleep.
S. MAG.: How do you get any illustrations for your books?
Do you take the pictures yourself or do you get them from
public records, such as newspapers?
B.A.: My photographs always become my book covers. Then, of
course, the camera’s eye is my partner. In college, I took art
photography. Between books, I have been known to do water
colors.
S. MAG.: Tell us about your creative process. Do your plots
come to you fully formed? Do you work from an outline?
B.A.: I work each chapter as a rough draft, let it talk back
to me, and then clean up what I don’t like. The next reread/
rewrite begins with the accumulation of five or six chapters. I
read them together and aloud to see if the material flows.
As a news reporter, there was never time for outlining. Being
clear, orderly, and timely was the requirement. While in college,
I freelanced feature articles for Sunday magazine sections of
large newspapers.
In all cases I take and use a multitude of notes.
S. MAG.: How many hours a day do you write? Do you write
every day, or do you take time off?
B.A.: While I am actually writing a book, I work
four hours, six days a week. Then I cap that
with a mile swim each day about noon. Of
course, I remain a reader and have no problem
relaxing with my newspapers, magazines, and
authors after my swimming pool workouts.
S. MAG.: How long does it typically take you
to write a book? I’m talking about through all
its stages: idea, outline (if applicable), writing,
editing, submission.
B.A.: Typically, it takes me a bit less than two years
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Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
to write a book.
S. MAG.: Do you ever work on more than one manuscript at
a time? So, if you get stuck on one, you can shift to another
one?
B.A.: I only work on one manuscript at a time, which also
requires travel. I actually like to keep way ahead of the news
updates.
S. MAG.: Tell us about your personal life, if you don’t mind.
What would make our readers feel like they know you better?
B.A.: My personal life has been broad, adventuresome, and
fulfilling. Of course, there have been stumbling blocks (a
few shattering ones), but ones that have made me a much
stronger human being, and those mistakes quickly made me
seriously cautious about decision-making. In my opinion, a
person’s most harmful errors are made when one is young.
Specifically, I have won honors nationally as a skeet shooter,
road trail bikes with my brother, spent six weeks of each summer
with my children on the beaches in South Georgia and traveled
with them on school year weekends to sports competitions and
historic sites.
My husband and I are sports fanatics. We watched the
basketball film “Hoosiers” on our first date and travel when
possible to see college football games. I never have believed
in all work and no play. But the “good life,” in my case, means
plenty of both.
S. MAG.: What professional goals would you like to achieve?
Truman Capote (true crime), Pat Conroy (personally), Michael
Connelly (page turning), Jane Austen (intuitive), and Cormac
McCarthy (stellar literature). Then, of course, Shakespeare!
S. MAG.: And now for some silly questions, just for laughs:
What’s your favorite color?
B.A.: Orange and blue for the Florida Gators.
S. MAG.: Who is your favorite music group/band?
B.A.: Lady Antebellum.
S. MAG.: What’s your favorite ice cream?
B.A.: Jack Daniel’s ice cream in Lynchburg, Tennessee.
S. MAG.: What’s your favorite movie?
B.A.: Presently, Zero Dark Thirty.
S. MAG.: What’s your favorite historical period?
B.A.: With a master’s degree in history from The Citadel (the
Military College of South Carolina), it would have to be the
depth of global military history.
S. MAG.: What’s your favorite meal?
B.A.: My favorite meal would have to include swordfish,
especially now that a ban on catching and serving them seems
to have been lifted.
B.A.: I would like to believe that I might continue to educate
and alert readers to the circumstances and behavior that can
make them crime victims. Once a teacher, always a teacher
(have been a twelfth-grade English instructor). I definitely
have a need to teach people to “think smart.”
S. MAG.: What’s your favorite holiday?
S. MAG.: What causes are you passionate about?
B.A.: Authoring books is my last stop.
B.A.: I am passionate about developing a better-educated,
widely-read electorate. Our country and your children’s futures
rely on a reading public.
I look forward to continuing my relationship with
Babette because I enjoy her company and her insight into
the world. I know that she will be writing more true crime
books in the future, and I can’t wait to see what’s next for her.
I know that Suspense Magazine readers will be interested to
read the true stories of crimes that grab headlines. So, stay
tuned, there’s more to come from our intrepid true crime
reporter, Babette Anton! ■
S. MAG.: In ten years, where would you like to be
professionally?
B.A.: In ten more years I would like to write five more truecrime books. We must not be as accepting of criminal behavior
as we seem to be at the present.
S. MAG.: Who are your favorite authors?
B.A.: Of course I have favorite authors, but way too many
to name. A few categorically: Winston Churchill (history),
SuspenseMagazine.com
B.A.: Independence Day.
S. MAG.: What would you be doing if you weren’t an author?
Holly Price is the author of the Christie Costner Design Diva
mystery series. She is a widow, and lives with six dogs and two
cats (all rescued), on eighteen acres, in Moscow, Tennessee,
outside Memphis, where she is working on the next book in the
series, “Death by Design.”
19
ADDING TENSION, SUSPENSE
& INTRIGUE TO YOUR STORY
By Jodie Renner
All genres of fiction—not just thrillers—need tension, suspense, and
intrigue to keep the reader invested in finishing your story. And of course,
you’ll need to ratchet up the uneasiness and anticipation a lot more if you’re
writing a fast-paced, nail-biting page-turner.
New York literary agent Noah Lukeman, author of “The Plot Thickens” and
other great craft books, says that if a writer can maintain suspense throughout
the story, many readers will keep reading even if the characters are undeveloped
and the plot is weak. So learning to write suspenseful fiction is definitely a
ticket to increased sales.
Suspenseful writing makes the readers feel curious, concerned, anxious.
They start to worry about what’s going to happen to the protagonist, and this
unease and concern keeps them turning the pages.
What is suspense, anyway? Alfred Hitchcock, a master at suspense, was
once asked to define the term. He told the interviewer to imagine two people
sitting at a table at a café. Under the table is a bag. In the bag is a bomb. The
characters don’t know that the bomb is there, but the viewers do. That, he said, is suspense.
And as Steven James explained in his excellent workshop at Thrillerfest 2011, “Suspense needs apprehension. Apprehension
is suspense. And impending danger creates apprehension.” James points out that suspense is about first making a promise
(setting reader expectations that your characters and story are going to intrigue them) and then providing a payoff. “The
bigger the promise, the bigger the payoff,” says James. “Give the reader what he wants or something better.”
Ian Irvine tells us that holding back critical information creates suspense: “Suspense comes from readers’ anticipation of
what’s going to come next. Therefore, never tell your readers anything in advance when, by withholding it, you can increase
suspense.”
How do we write suspenseful, page-turning scenes?
Create a complex character that readers will worry about, then write an opening that grabs the reader’s curiosity right
away, with an intriguing story question, a worrisome undercurrent, and an inciting incident.
Then follow this up for most of the story with hints of even worse trouble to come. Add in some foreshadowing here and
there, in small doses, to keep the readers off-balance, wondering and worrying. Delay revealing critical information, either
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about the protagonist or the antagonist, and build slowly.
Drop little hints as you go along of deep hidden secrets in the protagonist’s past that could trip him up, or new developments
in the villain’s plans, or other perils to come. Resist the urge to reveal too much too soon. These hints and delays are what
create suspense. As Jessica Morrell says, “Suspense builds and satisfies when the reader desperately wants something to
happen and it isn’t happening.”
Suspense is about exploiting the readers’ insecurities and basic fears of the unknown, their inner need to vicariously
vanquish foes, thwart evil, and win over adversity. For heightened suspense, use deep point of view, so the readers are right
there in your protagonist’s head, privy to her fears and insecurities, struggling with her against her adversaries and other dire
threats.
So build the suspense gradually, teasing the reader with possibilities, and keep it escalating, with the occasional short
breather, then throw in setbacks or new challenges. Repeat as needed throughout the book, always providing a brief reprieve
between these tense, nerve-wracking scenes.
SOME “BIG-PICTURE” TECHNIQUES FOR ADDING SUSPENSE:
First, make your readers care about your protagonist.
Create a likeable, appealing, strong, smart, and resourceful but vulnerable character readers will want to identify with. If
readers haven’t bonded with your main character, they won’t become emotionally invested in what happens to him or her. As
William Bernhardt says, “If people don’t care about your characters, nothing else matters.”
Create a cunning, frightening villain.
Your villain needs to be as clever, determined and resourceful as your protagonist—or even more so. Make him (or her)
a serious force to be reckoned with!
Threaten your protagonist.
Now that your readers care about your main character, insert a major threat or dilemma within the first chapter. Create
an overriding sentence about this to keep in mind as you’re writing your story: Will (name) survive/stop/find/overcome
(difficulty/threat)? This is your main story question that sets up the macro suspense of your whole novel, and isn’t answered
until the end.
But don’t pull out all of the stops on the first page.
When writing suspense, start slowly and subtly. Give yourself somewhere to build. As Hallie Ephron says, “If you pull
out all the stops at the beginning, you’ll have nowhere to go; worse still, your reader will turn numb to the nuance you are
trying to create.”
Establish a sense of urgency, a tense mood, and a faster pace.
Unlike cozy mysteries and other more leisurely genres, thrillers and other suspense fiction generally need a tense mood
and fast pacing throughout most of the novel, with short “breathers” in between the tensest scenes.
Use multiple viewpoints, especially that of the villain.
For increased anxiety and suspense, get us into the head of your antagonist from time to time. This way the readers find
out critical information the heroine doesn’t know, things we want to warn her about! And getting into the head of the bad guy
always enriches the story, even if we don’t know his identity yet—he’s just a scary shadowy character with diabolical thoughts
and plans.
Keep the story momentum moving forward.
Don’t get bogged down in backstory or exposition. Keep the action moving ahead, especially in the first chapter. Then
add in background and other info little by little, on an “as-needed” basis only.
Create a mood of unease.
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Keep the readers on edge by showing the main character feeling apprehensive about something or someone or by
revealing some of the bad guy’s thoughts and intentions. Or maybe, instead of anxious, your heroine is oblivious, but because
we’ve just been in the viewpoint of the villain, we know the danger that’s about to threaten her. Create anxiety in the reader
and keep ratcheting it up.
Add in tough choices and moral dilemmas.
Devise ongoing difficult decisions and inner conflict for your lead character. These will not only make your plot more
suspenseful, they will also make your protagonist more complex, vulnerable, and interesting.
Withhold information. Don’t tell your readers too much too soon.
Dole out information little by little, to tantalize readers and keep them wondering. Keep details of the past of both your
protagonist and antagonist hidden, and hint at critical, life-altering experiences they’ve had that are impacting their present
goals, desires, fears, etc. Add one significant detail after another as you go along.
Delay answers to critical plot questions.
Look for places in your story where you’ve answered readers’ questions too soon, so have missed a prime spot to increase
tension and suspense. Draw out the time before answering that question. In the meantime, hint at it from time to time to
remind readers of its importance.
Use dramatic irony.
This is where your readers know something critical and scary that the protagonist is not aware of. For example, your
heroine is relaxing after a stressful day, unaware that the
killer is prying open her basement window. Or your hero is
approaching his vehicle, unaware that it’s been rigged with a
bomb that is set to go off when he turns the key in the ignition.
Add a ticking clock.
Adding time pressure is another excellent way to increase
suspense. Lee Child is a master at this, a great example being
his thriller “61 Hours.” Or how about those great MacGyver
shows, where he had to devise ways to defuse the bomb before
it exploded and killed all kinds of innocent people? Or the TV
series 24, with agent Jack Bauer?
Use the setting to establish the mood and create
suspense.
This is the equivalent of ominous music, harsh lighting,
strange camera angles, or nasty weather in a scary movie.
To describe the surroundings of the character in jeopardy,
use strong descriptors, vivid details, and evocative sensory
imagery that reflect or add to his angst or fears and bring to
life the dangerous situations he’s confronting. This applies to
both indoor and outdoor settings, of course.
Use compelling, vivid sensory imagery.
Take us right there, with the protagonist, vividly
experiencing and reacting to whoever/whatever is challenging
or threatening her.
Appeal to all five senses, not just the visual.
Show breaking glass, a dripping faucet, footsteps on the
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stairs, a crash in the basement, rumbling of thunder, a sudden cold draft, an animal brushing the skin in the dark, a freezing
cold, blinding blizzard, a putrid smell coming from the basement…
Show, don’t tell.
Show all your critical scenes in real time, with action, reaction, and dialogue. Show your character’s inner feelings and
physical and emotional reactions. Don’t have one character tell another about an important event or scene.
What the reader desperately wants to happen isn’t happening—yet.
Promise change but delay it.
Put some suspense in every scene.
There should be something unresolved in every scene. Your character enters the scene with an objective and encounters
obstacles in the scene, so she is unable to reach her goals.
Vary the tension.
But of course, you can’t keep up tension nonstop, as it’s tiring for readers and will eventually numb them. It’s best to
intersperse tense, nail-biting scenes with a few more leisurely, relaxed scenes that provide a bit of reprieve before the next
tense, harrowing scene starts.
Use brief flashbacks at key moments.
Use this device to reveal your main character’s childhood traumas, unpleasant events, secrets, emotional baggage,
hangups, dysfunctional family, etc.
Keep raising the stakes.
Keep asking yourself, “How can I make things worse for the protagonist?” As the challenges get more difficult and the
obstacles more insurmountable, readers worry more and more about whether he can beat the ever-increasing odds against
him, and suspense grows. And as a bonus, as William Bernhardt says, “increasing pressure leads to increasing insight into
the character.” Which leads to increased reader engagement.
Plan a few plot twists.
Readers are surprised and delighted when the events take a turn they never expected. Don’t let your readers become
complacent, thinking it’s easy to figure out the ending, or they may stop reading. ■
Resources:
James Scott Bell, “Conflict & Suspense”
William Bernhardt, Thrillerfest workshop
Jack M. Bickham, “The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes”
Hallie Ephron, “The Everything Guide to Writing Your First Novel”
Ian Irvine, ian-irvine.com
Steven James, Workshop, Craftfest, 2011
Jessica Page Morrell, “Between the Lines”
Jodie Renner, a freelance fiction editor specializing in thrillers and other fast-paced fiction, has published two books to date in
her series, An Editor’s Guide to Writing Compelling Fiction: “Writing a Killer Thriller,” with the updated, expanded edition now
available in e-book and paperback on Amazon; and “Style That Sizzles & Pacing for Power,” available in paperback, for Kindle,
and in other e-book formats.
For more info, please visit Jodie’s author website or editor website, or find her on Facebook or Twitter.
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Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
By Thomas Scopel
In visits with Frankenstein, Dracula, Wolfman, and Phantom, I basically knew what to expect. Fortunately, all went well
and obviously, I wasn’t crushed, drained, shredded, or scarred.
Witches are far more terrifying—capable of striking at any given moment, at any given location, and without any given
notice.
Nonetheless, I was determined to interview one and there was one primary place that was almost guaranteed to bring
success: Salem.
Leaving my Ohio home, it took some small amount of courage to mentally counter the growing nerves in my belly. I had
been fearful before, but nothing like this. At least with the prior four, running to escape was a viable option. With women
of the dark arts—true monsters in my eyes and limited only by their minds’ blackest corners—any exodus would be in vain.
I was unable to stop recalling a few films’ depictions of the victims of witches. One sufferer in particular, which my mind
continued to loop back around to, had been attacked from afar and inflicted with what looked like a boil on his cheek. This
pimple-like thing turned out to be a nest and when it broke open, in the pus and blood were tiny spiders scattering all about
his face.
But I reminded myself that I meant no harm. I was only a writer wanting an interview. They certainly wouldn’t frown on
that, I told myself.
Of course, this did little to ease the trepidation and by the time the Salem sign—twenty-three miles ahead—came within
sight, the nervous knot in my stomach felt basketball-sized. I pondered whether those little hairy spiders were about to come
rushing out of my navel.
I was less concerned with wart-nosed crones than with the beautiful, wicked type that one doesn’t see coming. Hidden
from public perception, they harbored a vile iniquity and a collage of malicious spells and castings.
Online research provided the usual tourist havens in and around Salem, and upon closer inspection, offered a couple of
leads—witchcraft websites.
I found that the town was warm and comfortable and calm, with a modern-day metro meets quaint and quiet atmosphere.
It wasn’t all that hard to envision this place as a 1692 village.
Before long, I found what I sought.
From the outside, the place appeared typical, with white sheer curtains hanging in the windows and a flashing neon
sign beaming the word Open. Inside, while the décor wasn’t unusual, there was an overwhelming and impending feeling
of coldness, as if I were walking into a morgue. Every patron, all at the exact same time, stopped to stare until the tiny bell
attached to the door faded from ringing. Let’s just say that the creep effect was prevalent as thoughts of Stepford crossed my
mind.
In hindsight, I suppose this was my only warning. But with a stubborn side that wasn’t going to be chased off that easily,
I took an open seat at the counter between two ogling men who appeared to be well into their twilight years.
Not really needing to, since I already had something in mind, I looked over the menu. The waitress, an absolutely
gorgeous hunk of blonde womanhood who could easily have been a model, approached me.
“What’ll it be?” Her voiced was dainty with a slight, faded English accent.
Stunned, I couldn’t find words. She just smiled, batted her eyes, and waited while I regained composure. Finding my
speech, I ordered bacon, lettuce, and tomato and an iced tea. Without another word, she went to fetch it.
She delivered my drink and checked on the sandwich. I took a sip and glanced around. Everyone was still gawking, like
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they’d never seen an outsider before. It was rather disturbing.
She returned with my lunch, and in between sandwich bites, I explained the purpose of my visit. She reached out and
patted the back of my hand. There was a sudden whirl of blur and I found myself sitting on a pew, dressed as a puritan,
compressed in a small building resembling a church with a crowd that would rival a minor league baseball game.
I recognized that it was a courtroom, complete with a judge wearing a white powdered wig. A distinct but not
distinguishable shape embedded a round, stained glass window, above and behind him, allowed penetrating sunlight to flow
onto a fairly young woman sitting on a sturdy wooden chair at the front of the congregation. Behind streaming tears, fear
filled her face.
A heavy gavel bang made me jerk and turn to see two burly men taking hold of the poor woman, and dragging her down
the center aisle and out the double doorway.
The crowd started to follow in orderly fashion, some hooting and hollering. I thought I heard something about a witch
getting what she deserved.
The people in my row rose and began inching their way out, much like the conclusion of a wedding. I did the same,
simply going with the majority. I had no idea where we were going.
By the time I found my way outside into the courtyard of the small village, the woman was already standing in the back
of a wagon, heavily roped to a post. One of the men tugged at the horse’s reins and the wagon moved forward, with the crowd
in tow.
We walked a mile or so, over a densely packed earth trail that took us out to the end of town and through a darkened
wooded area. At the edge of a green field, just beyond a massive oak tree, the wagon stopped in front of a pile of chopped
wood and the poor woman was removed, only to be retied to another post standing nearby.
The two men began stacking firewood at her feet and the crowd joined in, building a mound up over her ankles and
almost to her knees. The wigged judge, whom I hadn’t noticed while flowing with the crowd, stepped forward with a lit torch
and tossed it onto the pile. It rolled up against the woman’s leg and flared. The woman shrieked and her wide eyes, full of pain
and fear, sent a chill down my spine. The heap began to catch and the woman somberly looked off to the side at that little girl,
tears streaming down both their faces.
The flames grew higher and higher and by the time they had reached the woman’s breast-length blond hair, she was
slumped forward and silent.
The crowd began to file away and I immediately felt lost. Various folks, both men and women, young and old, strolled
past me before the little girl came and looked up at me. She reached out, and with her tiny soft hand, took hold of mine.
The blur came again and I was back, sitting in the diner and looking up at the blonde, a crooked smile spanning across
her face. Still reeling and partly dizzy, I glanced away toward the other patrons. They too had that same type of eerie, wickedlike smile. Looking back at the woman, she just winked and patted my hand.
“Lunch is on me, and be sure to stop by the museum on your way out of town.”
Yeah, right, I thought to myself, getting up and fumbling quickly to the door.
Now I don’t know what compelled, but at the door, I turned to take a last look.
Her face was now that of a wrinkled and decrepit old crone with blackened and missing teeth. Seeing my glimpse, she
broke into a hysterical cackle and the patrons joined in, both in appearance as well as action, and I took off out the door.
Spinning tires through the gravel lot, my car gripped pavement and shot forward. Fleeing, maintaining a vigil in the
rearview mirror, I half expected to see them streaming out of the door after me, maybe on broomsticks. After rounding a
bend, the diner out of site, I focused on road signs and let up a little on the accelerator.
Just as I came to Highway 128, there was a billboard depicting a majestic oak tree sporting a noose by a field with a
blazing bonfire in the background. It read: Visit the Salem Museum, where the horrors took place!
I turned onto the highway and pressed down on the gas.
Twelve hours later, at home, the anxiety hadn’t completely waned and I pondered how to write an interview I hadn’t
even done. Perplexed, conflicted, and cogitating that the trip probably fell somewhere on the lower side of the scale between
success and failure, I decided to simply attempt fiction. As my word processor booted up, I went to get more than a smidgen
of brandy.
When I came back, one single sentence had mysteriously been typed.
There are things worse than spiders. Tread lightly and never forget!
The snifter fell from my shuddering hand and shattered on the tile floor. I didn’t care and slammed the laptop closed.
Trembling, I peered from window to window to window. Outside, all was black as coal.
It would be another week before I reopened the laptop to find the words gone.
Sitting here in front of a blank page, I solemnly promise to never forget and am most certain to leave well enough alone.
As I take a sip from my newly purchased snifter, I begin to wonder if a Hunchback spirit lingers at Notre Dame. ■
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Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Antonio Hill
Barcelona brings us one of their best
Interview by Suspense Magazine
Press Photo Credit: Jaume Recoder
Antonio Hill lives in Barcelona, where he is a professional
translator of English fiction into Spanish. He’s also a writer who
speaks fluent English. “The Summer of Dead Toys,” edited and
translated by Laura McGlouglin, is his newest release. This book is a big hit. Here is what Guardian has to say: “A
welcome corrective to snow-blindness from too much Nordic
noir...excellent characterisation, a sympathetic and engaging
protagonist and plenty of plot twists with a cliffhanger ending
that sets things up nicely for the next in the series.” This crime
novel is set in a hot Barcelona, and introduces Inspector Hector
Salgado, whose challenging personal life endangers his career.
A short summary of Hill’s book:
When the death of a young witness in a case
of human trafficking and voodoo provokes the
normally calm Inspector Salgado to beat someone
up, he is swiftly removed from the project. Instead,
he is sent to investigate a teenager’s fall to his death
in one of Barcelona’s uptown areas.
As Salgado begins to uncover the inconvenient
truths behind the city’s most powerful families,
two seemingly unsolvable cases are set to implode
under the hot Barcelona sun.
Here’s our interview with Hill:
Suspense Magazine (S. MAG): Besides what someone can readily
find online, can you tell us something about the “The Summer of
Dead Toys”?
Antonio Hill (A.H.): I think that, in a way, “The Summer of Dead
Toys” is a thriller about modern families. Family is an institution
that has evolved a lot in the last years, and although relationships
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Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
between parents and children (or between siblings) are probably healthier and more open now, these changes also bring different
sorts of problems.
The other big theme in the novel is how hidden truths find their way to get unburied with tragic and unexpected consequences.
And finally, there is an underlying idea that some reviews have noticed, but that I would like to point out, too: Barcelona is a nice
cosmopolitan city, one of the favorite tourist destinations not only in Europe. But at the same time, as in any other big capital,
behind those amazing buildings and the sunny seaside, there are darker things going on. I wanted to show that other side of a
“beautiful” city.
S. MAG: What can you tell us about yourself?
A.H.: Well, in fact “The Summer of Dead Toys” is my first published novel, so I have a bigger background as a reader (and
translator) than as an author. I took creative writing courses about ten years ago, but afterwards I simply could not find the time
to devote to that. I wrote a young adult novel during a summer to send it to a contest and I received a nice letter saying that “the
novel had reached the final stages in the competition.” I still have it in my computer, but I think I’d better keep it for my eyes only
forever.…
S. MAG.: Was “The Summer of Dead Toys” easy to write or challenging? And why?
A.H.: Writing a novel is always challenging. You need a lot of energy and concentration, because it is a long process and sometimes
you feel tempted to giving it up, mainly because you start doubting yourself, the plot, the interest it can have for others.
And at the same time there is an urge to finish it, to tell the story, to check if everything you had in your mind when you began
fits together as you had imagined. In a “crime” novel that gets more important, as we have heard many times things like: “the end
was not satisfactory enough.” I wanted it to be a surprise for the reader, of course, but a logical and consistent one.
So all that keeps your brain very busy for almost a year, and it is definitely challenging.
S. MAG.: What’s on your iPod?
A.H.: Many different types of music. From The Smiths to U2, Bruce Springsteen, Leonard Cohen, Metallica, Portishead. And
also some songs that mean something for me and I need to hear from time to time. “Total Eclipse of the Heart” is one of them.
S. MAG.: Can you tell us how you develop your characters?
A.H.: This is one of my favorite activities when I plan a novel. First of all I need a name.
I cannot design a nameless character. Then I start thinking how I would behave if I were
him or her.
For instance, in “The Summer of Dead Toys,” there is a young, selfish teenager called
Aleix. I imagined how I would react if I had been born in that strict and wealthy
Catholic home. There are many different possibilities, but they could be reduced into
two big groups: either I would believe in those rules and follow them blindly or I’d be a
total rebel.
“My second novel was
published in Spain last
year and I hope you can
read it next year.”
SuspenseMagazine.com
29
I was interested in the second one, and then I thought that a nineteen-year-old guy needed a strong reason to go against everything
he had been taught. The fact he had suffered a serious illness when he was very young could be a factor that led to this. It should
make you more doubtful and less obedient. You start this way and go on, until “Aleix” is a real person for you. It may sound a
bit crazy, but that’s how I work.
S. MAG.: How do you feel about having to have an online presence to sell your book? If this the type of marketing you do and
if not, what other things do you do?
A.H.: I have mixed feelings about it. In a way, I know that online presence is necessary nowadays, but on the other hand I think
some authors (at least in Spain) tend to be a bit overwhelming. Maybe it’s the way I was educated, but I am not very comfortable
talking about myself all the time (my events, the reviews my novels have got, etc.) Also, as a reader, I am basically interested in
people’s books, not in their daily lives or in the fact they like cats better than dogs.…
Anyway, I tend to follow my publisher’s advice and attend reading clubs, presentations, and any event we think can be good for
sales. It is part of the job and I do it gladly.
S. MAG.: Before becoming an author, what did you do?
A.H.: I studied psychology as a career, but never really worked as such. I was a teacher for a few years and then I started working
with an editor, reading and reporting foreign fiction. You cannot live from that only, at least in Spain, so I began to translate
fiction from English to Spanish. After some time, I worked as a translator in the mornings at home and as a freelance copy editor
in the afternoons for Random House Spain (which I still do now).
S. MAG.: If you could go back in time, what crime would you try to solve and why?
A.H.: I prefer to imagine fictional crimes than facing real ones, with real victims and real feelings involved. But there is a
disappearance that shocked me because the victim, a teenage girl, lived quite near my parents’ home. After at least twenty years,
no corpse has been found, nobody has been arrested, and the family is totally devastated. I would really like to think someone
took care of that just because I feel the girl’s mother has the right to know what happened. It’s sad enough as it is, but not knowing
must be unbearable.
S. MAG.: I notice you didn’t translate your own book. Is that because you are too close to it to adeptly handle the process?
A.H.: Yes, but not only. A good professional should translate to his or her mother tongue, which for me is Spanish. I can be fluent
in English, but I’d never be as good as a native.
S. MAG.: Can you tell us what other books or works you have translated?
A.H.: I worked on that for many years, so there are lots of them. Perhaps the most well known were Jonathan Safran Foer’s books:
“Everything Is Illuminated,” “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close,” and “Eating Animals”; also I had a great time translating
David Sedaris’s short stories; and books like “The Pilgrim Hawk,” a lovely nouvelle by Glenway Wescott, or a classic as “Jane
Eyre.” I did not translate much crime fiction, but I remember very fondly “The Blackhouse” by Peter May and the first book in
“Dexter” series.
S. MAG.: What can you readers and fans expect from you next? Is there something special you’re working on?
A.H.: My second novel was published in Spain last year and I hope you can read it next year. It’s called “The Good Suicides,” and
it is a crime story that tackles the complex human relationships in the working place, a cosmetics company, to be precise, whose
employees start committing suicide for an unknown reason.…
We would like to thank Antonio for taking the time to talk to us and his readers and fans. To find out more about him,
please visit his website at: http://crownpublishing.com/author/182487/antonio-hill. ■
30
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Suspense Magazine Book Reviews
Inside the Pages
CARNIE
PUNK
By Various Authors
I was definitely
in the mood for
something
off
the beaten path
when I picked up the anthology,
“CarniePunk.” Brimming with dark
urban fantasy bestsellers—a few
I wasn’t familiar with—I knew I’d
have stories by authors I enjoy and
the possibility of finding some new
favorites. Anthologies are fun and
can be like dating. You get to kick
the tires and don’t have to settle
on one specific author if you’re
not sure who or what you’ll like.
Carnie-themed “CarniePunk” and
its amazing collection of authors do
not disappoint.
We’ll start at the beginning
with Rob Thurman’s Painted Love,
which even now after I’ve finished all
fourteen fantastic stories, sticks with
me and had me searching my shelves
for more from Thurman. Doodle—
our story’s hero—doesn’t typically
jump into the fray of people’s
problems, choosing to simply go
through life as an active voyeur. All is
well, until he just can’t sit idly by for
one more moment and readers—
at least I was—will be shocked at
where this story takes them.
Another very bright spot in this
sea of diamonds was found in Rachel
Caine’s The Cold Girl, where sixteenyear-old Kiley learns a few life and
death lessons and you may find
yourself rooting for the underdog—
regardless of the reckless teenage
actions that got her into trouble.
Seanan McGuire brings Daughter
of the Midway, the Mermaid, and the
Open, Lonely Sea, which will have
you questioning what’s real and
what isn’t the next time you wander
down a carnival midway and glance
at the flying banners for the ‘freaks’
in the show.
“CarniePunk” has something
for everyone with story’s from Kevin
Hearne to Jaye Wells, whether they
be ‘in-between’ current storylines
or something fresh and new.
Guaranteed to entertain!
Reviewed by Shannon Raab for
Suspense Magazine ■
SuspenseMagazine.com
BLOOD GAMES
By David Lyons
This second tale featuring Louisiana Federal District Judge Jock Boucher is even better
than the first.
In the beginning Boucher and his girlfriend are enjoying their vacation time immensely;
having a ball in Mexico. As with all good times, however, the fun must end.
Jock is truly regretting his decision to become a federal judge and wants to basically say
goodbye to the whole thing. But when he’s summoned by the President of the United States
and asked point blank to remain for a little longer, Jock decides to stay on the job.
Returning to his home in New Orleans, Jock goes out to dinner one night and is held up by an armed
man in the street. Defending himself, the robber ends up dead. Calling his old friend, Detective Fitch of the
NOPD, Jock is told by Fitch that the bullets found inside the robber’s firearm are a new breed of ammunition
called ‘cop killers.’ They seem to be cropping up everywhere, and the NOPD knows that arms dealers are
distributing this horrific ammo to Mexican criminal elements.
A new development is in the works: a plan created by the U.S. government to head into an area of
northern Mexico and take these dealers out. However, the dealers are a tough group with a long reach and
they are blocking the government’s plan by any means necessary. Being that the last thing anyone wants is a
war to break out with the U.S. southern allies, Jock attempts to figure out a plan to stop the hostilities before
it’s too late.
This is a fascinating plot with extremely vivid scenes. Readers will surely identify with Jock, especially in
this very real world filled with escalating violence. They will also root for the judge as he attempts to find his
own niche in the world. With an unforgettable ending, it will be interesting to see how the next installment
in the life of Jock Boucher plays out.
Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by
Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■
JAIL COACH
By Hillary Bell Locke
Jay Davidovich is a loss prevention specialist for Trans/Oxana, which insures, among
other things, celebrities. Right now, Jay is trying to save the company from having to pay out
on a policy for an actor—Trowbridge—that has a few issues. Trowbridge gets a DUI in his
Ferrari and it is Jay’s job to ‘babysit’ him and save the company money.
Jay realizes that Trowbridge is going to have to do some jail time, so he hires Katrina
Thompson who has a past and issues of her own. Katrina’s job is to get Trowbridge ready for
jail and the things he will face while inside. Jay knows the public is wishy-washy and Trowbridge’s fans may
become ex-fans and that can’t happen either because of a clause in the policy.
Trowbridge really hits it off with Katrina and her daughter. Katrina’s past comes back with a vengeance
and threatens more than just Katrina!
The author does a great job of grabbing you and pulling you through the story at a fast pace!
Reviewed by Ashley Dawn, author of “Shadows of Pain” published by Suspense Publishing an imprint of
Suspense Magazine ■
HOUR OF THE RAT
By Lisa Brackmann
This is the second novel featuring ex-GI Ellie McEnroe, an American expat living in
Beijing, China. Having been damaged physically—she has a pin painfully holding a leg
together—and spiritually, from her time in ‘The Sandbox,’ army-speak for Iraq, she is still
fighting, fighting to regain control of her life. She works, when she can, as the representative
of Lao Zhang, an artist whose popular success is only matched by the Chinese government’s
determination to prevent his work from being sold. And now Zhang has gone into hiding and
the DSD, the Chinese equivalent of our NSA, is taking a close, very close, look at Ellie.
Now, Dog, an old army buddy and in worse shape than she is, needs her help. His younger brother
is somewhere in China, attempting to document and expose the wide scale damage being done to the
environment. With little to go on except her wits, her passable fluency in Chinese, and most valuable of all,
her tenaciousness, Ellie sets out to find him.
Modern China, with all its beauty and blemishes, comes alive as the story unfolds. Ellie pops her pain
pills, drinks her beer, offers wry observations, and follows clues from one city to another across vast, cipherlike China, and makes it real for the reader. Beautiful lakes lie under magical mountains at one stop. Revolting
rivers of sludge foul the air at another. Danger from forces known and unknown lurk around each corner.
Before too long, the question morphs from will Ellie find Dog’s brother, to what will happen if she does.
This is a tale told with confidence, skill, and maturity. It features an enjoyably profane protagonist and
is peopled with characters who will take up residence in the reader’s mind, setting up an itch that can only be
satisfied by another novel from this author.
Reviewed by Andrew MacRae, author of “Murder Misdirected” for Suspense Magazine ■
31
THE SCENT OF FEAR
By Tom Adair
There is a murderer loose. He preys on unsuspecting women and heartlessly stalks them
and kills them in particularly gruesome ways. He is seen by Sarah, a criminalist, fleeing from
his latest kill. Sarah follows him, and is nearly killed herself. She’s put herself in his sights, and
he determines to eliminate her.
Daniel is a former special ops soldier, home, and trying to readjust to everyday life. He
is working for his uncle, who runs the forensic center where Sarah works. When they meet,
there is an instant attraction. But Daniel is still jumpy, and he withdraws and wonders if he can ever have
another romantic relationship.
As she is stalked by the killer, Sarah works to understand unusual clues as the murders keep happening.
Daniel’s uncommon background leads to his arrest as the killer.
As their attraction grows, Sarah must overcome her fears in order to exonerate Daniel. The killer comes
closer and closer as Sarah follows the evidence.
This tautly written thriller is exciting and almost impossible to put down. Tom Adair has crafted this
book with an eye to engaging the reader from the first page. I read this in one sitting because I couldn’t wait
to see what would happen next!
Congratulations, Tom Adair for your success with your debut novel! I look forward to reading many
more!
Reviewed by Holly Price author of “At Death’s Door” for Suspense Magazine ■
OMENS
By Kelley Armstrong
I’m ashamed to admit it, but this is my first Kelley Armstrong title and if anyone else is
new to her work, “Omens” and the debut of the Cainsville series is a fantastic place to start.
Olivia Taylor-Jones—Liv to her friends—leads a relatively charmed life. She’s a wealthy
young woman, well educated, engaged to the ‘right’ man, and while things aren’t perfect, the
challenges she faces are exactly what you would expect from a woman of her stature.
Then Liv’s world tilts on its axis when a mind-blowing secret comes to light. She’s
adopted and that’s not such a big deal, is it? But how many children can say they are the spawn of a serial
killing couple? Liv now can and this revelation is more than her widowed, adoptive mother can take. What
would people think? The emotional divide already in place—following the death of her father—grows from
a fissure to a large chasm as Liv goes in search of purpose.
Liv makes a clean break, or at least she tries to, but with a recognizable face and few marketable skills, her
options are limited and she soon finds herself herded into the small, secluded town of Cainsville. Cainsville
is a quiet and protected place. Somewhere where Liv begins to feel a bit safer from prying eyes and she settles
in as they’re fairly welcoming to a stranger in their midst.
But Liv’s not really a stranger and the town and its elders have a long memory. So as Liv delves into
one specific death of a couple that doesn’t fit the pattern of her birth parents’ crime, she finds herself in
unchartered waters. With sharks nipping at her heels, she learns more about her past and her newly
discovered mettle and the investigation moves into high gear.
Through first class writing and characters—including the town of Cainsville itself—that leap off the
pages, Armstrong has penned a tale that I, for one, can’t wait to see continue.
Reviewed by Shannon Raab for Suspense Magazine ■
NEARER HOME
By Joy Castro
Irony at its finest, a perfectly beautiful morning turns into a nightmare…
During her early morning run through Audubon Park in New Orleans, Nola Cespedes
discovers the dead body of a former professor of hers along the path. The victim, Dr. Judith
Taffner, was a professor in the journalism department at Tulane University. And Nola now
works as an investigative journalist for the Times-Picayune newspaper.
Nola quickly finds herself embroiled in a case that causes her sadness, because the
professor is dead; but also excitement, because of her nose for news. After giving her statement to the police,
Nola wants to discover the professor’s killer as soon as possible, and heads for the victim’s office at Tulane.
Managing to break in, she finds a flash drive that the victim left behind.
Nola becomes more convinced that Dr. Taffner’s death was a bit shady and, as she doesn’t have a lot of
faith in the New Orleans Police Department, Nola involves herself even more deeply than she should.
Visiting the home of the deceased is just the first step to get material for her story, as Nola becomes a
veritable super-snoop. On the flash drive she confiscates, Nola finds that Dr. Taffner had been working on a
couple of stories that were beyond shocking. As Nola tries to figure out the case, another murder takes place
that seems to be related at the New Orleans Jazz Fest. Soon, Nola realizes that this killer may just be coming
after her.
Filled with detailed writing that shows the reader every path and every doorstep in the amazingly
unique city of New Orleans, this writer has done a great job of bringing the reader into each and every scene.
(Honestly, you can smell the New Orleans cuisine in the air). With a tough main character who is not at all
charming but gets the job done, readers will be beguiled by this exceptionally good mystery.
Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by
Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■
32
COMPOUND
FRACTURES
By Stephen White
The twentieth book of the
Alan Gregory series is a multilayered
finale for therapist Gregory and his
detective friend, Sam Purdy. The
challenge of a series is balancing
the long-term story arcs with each
individual novel’s plot, and for the
last book, the reader expects at least
some of the series-long arcs to have
a sense of closure. “Compound
Fractures” takes a different approach.
There are two main plots. A
crime Gregory helped cover-up years
before seems about to bubble to the
surface during the investigation of
the shooting of his wife Lauren. At
the same time, new evidence has
turned up in a cold case that was
briefly assigned to Purdy and Lauren.
The DA, Elliot Bellhaven, seems to
have a personal grudge against them,
further complicating Gregory’s legal
troubles.
This all makes for a challenging
read as a stand alone, and this
reviewer, new to the series, had to do
some internet research just to follow
along. That is not necessarily a strike
against the book. By book twenty,
the author can’t possibly synopsize
every reference for the new reader.
On the other hand, as the series has
now been running for over twenty
years, even fans might appreciate a
recap before diving in.
A little plot confusion aside,
the characters are what make this
book engaging. They are enjoyably
real, with complicated motivations,
rivalries, and imperfections, and
they are still growing and changing
as people in this last book. Twists
and turns with the relationships
among the characters add an
emotional layer to the mystery. I’m
sure loyal readers of the series will
find many answers here they’ve
been waiting for, but there are just as
many new developments. Although
several elements of the mysteries
are resolved, or at least explained,
new characters are introduced that
further complicate some of the longterm plot points. While entertaining,
new readers would definitely do
better starting at the beginning, and
faithful readers should not expect a
neat ending that answers all. In fact, if
there isn’t a forthcoming reinvented
series featuring some of these
characters, I would be surprised.
Reviewed by Scott Pearson, author
of “Star Trek: Honor in the Night”
and cohost of the Generations Geek
podcast, for Suspense Magazine ■
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
POSSESSION
By Kat Richardson
As
a
longtime
fan,
“Possession” is exactly what I
expect and crave from a Kat
Richardson title.
Harper
Blaine—P.I.,
advocate for the downtrodden,
and Greywalker—is called upon
to help those in need and as a
Greywalker, Blaine can travel
between two worlds, ours and the
realm of the paranormal. Blaine
excels in cases that any normal P.I.
would run from screaming, if they
could get away, that is.
Blaine’s
life
becomes
complicated when she takes on a
case of what seems to be a simple
possession. But nothing is ever
straightforward in Blaine’s life
and this case is no exception. A
comatose woman is sitting up,
painting like a madman, and
speaking gibberish. Medically,
there is no explanation. From
a paranormal standpoint, it’s
a different story and this frail,
sheath of a woman is surrounded
by spirits.
If this were just one case of
possession, it might not be so
dire, but when Blaine finds two
additional patients experiencing
persistent vegetative state who
are also acting extraordinarily, she
begins to work on the thread that
links them. Blaine can see there’s
a link, one she just has to ferret
out, and finds that areas of Seattle,
specifically the Pike Place Market,
are where she’s being led. Bizarre
happenings are occurring and
Blaine is fighting against father
time in a race for the lives of the
victims—those three innocent
souls trapped in the deadly grasp
of ghosts. She learns that the
history of the Market leads back
to real life horrors including a
woman who, many years dead, is
still searching for victims.
However, as I stated before,
Blaine’s life is complicated. Her
husband-in-spirit, Quinton, is
busy trying to undermine his
father’s work and she’s trying to
be a supportive loved one. But,
when Quinton’s father sets his
sights on Blaine, she doesn’t know
how long she’ll be able to hide her
links to the paranormal.
“Possession” has it all: crisp
writing, engaging storylines, and
a champion and cast of characters
you can root for. Always
recommended.
Reviewed by Shannon Raab for
Suspense Magazine ■
SuspenseMagazine.com
SHADOWKILLER
By Wendy Corsi Staub
This incredibly creative author has done an almost impossible feat when it comes to gifting
this book to the public. She has created a series that ends just as good as it began—never allowing
her ‘bone chilling tale’ to stop for one second.
“Nightwatcher” was the first, featuring a serial killer succeeding at his murder and mayhem
during the horrid confusion following the September eleventh terrorist attacks. Getting away
with almost everything, the only mistake he made was leaving one terrified woman who’d seen his
face. The second book, “Sleepwalker,” picked up the story ten years later as Allison, the survivor,
saw that her nightmare was definitely not over. Now, with the third, readers will gasp at what Staub uncovers.
Allison, now married to Mack McKenna and the happy mother of three, dwells in a suburb of New York
City—safe at last. However, far from her happy life, a murder occurs on a Caribbean Island, which ends up
being the first step in a very clever plan to destroy Allison once and for all.
Enter Detective Rocky Manzillo, a long-time police officer who is recognizing the signs that someone is
coming out of the shadows; a victim without a face and a photograph from the past will resurrect a connection.
A murderer is afoot who has it in for Allison, but the reasons for the grudge are extremely interesting to figure
out.
As with Mary Higgins Clark, Staub can pen a novel of suspense that will send you diving under the bed—
just to check for any monsters—before settling down to read. And after reading, the lights will remain on for
a good, long while. For readers who haven’t read the previous two books, you should. This is a truly chilling
jigsaw puzzle that will leave you breathless!
Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense
Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■
100 DAYS IN DEADLAND
By Rachel Aukes
We have all heard the phrase, “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” I would like to amend that
to “Don’t judge a book by its genre.” When I was asked to read “100 Days in Deadland” and
heard it was a zombie novel, I had my doubts, which were quickly squelched. The author has
characterized her work as paralleling Dante’s “Inferno” with zombies. All I could think of was
George Orwell’s “Animal Farm.” The analysis may not be spot on, but any book that reminds you
of a literary masterpiece yet has its own voice and platform must be pretty good, right? Wrong...
it must be great!
“100 Days in Deadland” begins with an ‘epidemic’ that turns people into zombies (zeds). The zeds have a
one track mind...to eat. If a person is bitten, they will turn. We meet a twenty-something girl, Cash, and a more
mature Special Forces vet, Clutch, who will try to navigate what Dante called the nine circles of Hell. In the
days to come, they find the world has changed, but man’s vices have not. Greed, corruption, and betrayal are
still alive and well.
I was hooked from page one because I cared about the characters. Rachel Aukes has written tenderness
and compassion into a world of chaos and struggle. She has shown us a post-apocalyptic world where the core
to life is still moral judgment. The players may have changed, but the game has not. It’s still good vs evil. I will
not hint at the end of “100 Days in Deadland.” I will only say it was as shocking as the book was good.
“100 Days in Deadland” is a stunning exploration of the human spirit: survival and greed, good and evil...a
microcosm of today’s society wrapped up in a dystopian novel.
Don’t judge this book by its genre. Rachel Aukes has written a modern take on a classic.
I for one, cannot wait for her next book.
Reviewed by J.M. LeDuc, author of “Cornerstone,” published by Suspense Publishing, a division of Suspense
Magazine ■
A SPIDER IN THE CUP
By Barbara Cleverly
Barbara Cleverly captivates readers with her suspenseful and intricate tale of honor and
betrayal in “A Spider in the Cup.”
Assistant Commissioner of Scotland Yard Joe Sandilands looks dashing in his formal
evening attire as he is tasked with protecting American Senator Cornelius Kingstone during the
World Economic Conference and its lavish dinner meetings. The year is 1933. London is “awash
with dignitaries of one sort or another from Albania to Zululand.” The world is in an economic
crisis that may lead to another world war if negotiations fail or one of the attendees is murdered.
Tensions are high and political treachery is afoot. Sent by President Roosevelt, Senator Kingstone is a
key player and a prime target for assassins. The senator’s blind love for a young Russian ballerina clouds his
judgment and complicates Joe’s job when she goes missing and a murdered woman fitting her description
is discovered buried on the bank of the Thames. As mysterious murders come to light, fate closes in on the
senator and the top cop charged with his safety.
Kingstone’s personal bodyguard is a dangerous rival from Joe’s past who seems loyal, but may have dark
ambitions. A sinister group of nine powerful men might be pulling his strings. Outgunned and not knowing
whom to trust, Joe must rely on his sharp intellect and tactics he learned in the military. The senator’s life and
the fate of the world are in Joe’s capable hands as he navigates between high society and the underworld, never
knowing when or where the killers will strike or who is next on their hit list.
Reviewed by S.L. Menear, author of “Deadstick Dawn” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of
Suspense Magazine ■
33
DO OR DINER
By Christine Wenger
This is the first cozy mystery from Ms. Wenger, who also writes romance. The book earns
its billing as a Comfort Food Mystery since it comes with not one, not two but seven mouthwatering recipes. This reviewer intends to try most, if not all of them.
Trixie Matkowski is in possession of the Silver Bullet Diner in upstate New York, on the
shores of Lake Ontario, and in the fictional town of Sandy Harbor (fictional as far as I can tell).
She’s not sure whether she’s excited or anxious about inheriting the place from her Aunt Stella.
The diner gives this thirty-something a chance to start over after her divorce from Deputy Doug Burnham
and the loss of her job working as a tourist information specialist for the city of Philadelphia. Aunt Stella’s
husband, Uncle Porky, has just died and Stella has decided to get out of the diner business and cruise around
the world.
It’s quite a big job, taking over a place that has always been open twenty-four hours a day, but Trixie
loves to cook and thinks it will work out. And she’ll try to avoid the handsome cowboy, Tyler Brisco, from
Houston, Texas, who has moved in over the bait shop next door. She finds she needs his help, however,
when she learns he’s a new local Deputy; especially when the health inspector, Marvin P. Cogswell III, a
man disliked in the area, keels over dead with his face in a dish of the special that day, pork and scalloped
potatoes. The dish has been poisoned and after a negative health inspection report is found, suspicion falls
on Trixie.
Trixie must figure out who actually killed Mr. Cogswell and there are other suspects, from her own
cook to the mayor of the town who owns a rival restaurant. Her business has fallen off drastically and a
payment is due on the property. The small town quirky characters are very well done. This is a fun, light read.
Reviewed by Kaye George, author of “Eine Kleine Murder” for Suspense Magazine ■
THE BOY WHO COULD SEE DEMONS
By Carolyn Jess-Cooke
Adolescent Psychiatry Consultant, Anya Molokova, is adamant about having May
six off from her practice. This is the day of memories, and she wants to spend her time
remembering her daughter, Poppy, who met with tragedy because of her eternal suffering
from schizophrenia. Going off her medications, Poppy thinks she sees a bridge outside the
window, and poor Anya literally watches her own daughter walk to her death.
The pressure mounts for Anya. She just began a new job and she finds herself at work on
the sixth, meeting with a new patient. Alex is a young man who shows all the signs of schizophrenia, and he
unveils the fact he sees and hears a demon that goes by the name of Ruen.
Working alongside Anya to help this boy is Michael, Alex’s social worker, doing his best to find out
when and where this situation arose and what triggered the appearance of said demon.
Taking place in Northern Ireland through all the animosity and pain, the Irish children have been
touched by the violence around them. As Alex reveals more to his caregivers, they discover that the boy
watched his mother attempt to commit suicide more than once.
Anya sees her mission. Anxious to help Alex, her goal is to find a way to diagnose early onset
schizophrenia. But right in the midst of her heroism, Anya begins to have fainting spells of her own. And
when she is in the darkness, Alex is left to meet his demon head-on.
This story is certainly poignant in a world where children are committing suicide on a daily basis. Alex’s
bravery and strength when dealing with her daughter’s death may help others find closure in their own lives.
The demon is certainly quite real and mirrors what everyone carries deep inside. Although the narrative is,
at times, extremely harsh, readers should definitely give this one a chance.
Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by
Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■
FULL RATCHET
By Mike Cooper
He’s a CPA with a gun...and military training...and all too willing to use both. With this
premise, welcome to “Full Ratchet,” full of shoot ‘em up, blow ‘em up, knock ‘em down action.
From Pennsylvania to West Virginia and back, it’s a hard hitting...wait a minute, I’ve already
done that bit. I’m just so full of energy for Cooper’s second novel, it’s difficult to come back
down.
Silas Cade is not your ordinary financial auditor who investigates company fraud. He’s the
guy you call in when you need some serious juice. Former special operations, Cade gets in and finds what
needs to be found by whatever means necessary. In “Full Ratchet,” Cade’s latest job takes him to Pittsburgh
to look into some hinky bookkeeping by a small company that makes seismic detectors. Cade works his way
through the company in short order to find the problem, but afterward is followed to his motel. And his
residence in Manhattan is broken into. Cade is now a target and to save himself, he has to find out the truth
behind the curtain. Russian mobsters and an attractive assassin, however, want a different outcome. Oh, and
let’s not forget one other issue with which Cade had to contend...his long lost brother.
Quick moving, fun characters, cynical humor make this a winner from the first page. Cooper doesn’t
mess around with throwing you face first into the action from the get-go. When the first chapter was over, I
thought I was in for a breather. Not sorry to say, I was wrong. It’s a bullet to the end, and left me breathless
wanting more. Come on, Cooper, give me more Cade.
Reviewed by Stephen Brayton, author of “Alpha” for Suspense Magazine ■
34
TAINTED MOUNTAIN
By Shannon Baker
I
immensely
enjoy learning things
when I read mysteries.
I know that beautiful
mountain
places,
which are attracting
more
and
more
building, are having
water troubles, but this novel did
much to inform me further.
The mystery isn’t a vehicle for
the water question, though. It’s a
bona fide mystery with a compelling
sleuth, Nora Abbot, who didn’t want
to end up running an Arizona ski
resort, on fictional Kachina Peak,
near real Flagstaff. She inherited it
from her uncle and, at first, feels duty
bound to carry on with his vision.
She is encouraged by her husband,
the charming Scott Abbot, until
lately. He has cooled on the whole
project and perhaps on her as well.
Maybe because it’s gotten to be too
much work. In fact, they’ve had to
go to court to win the right to pump
water for snow making during the
present drought.
As the story opens, Nora
has just won her court case, with
the blessing of the local Native
tribe. However, as she exits the
courthouse, she must face an angry
crowd of hell-bent “enviros,” led
by Big Elk. Nora is convinced that
his followers, Guilty White People,
don’t thoroughly understand her
operation or they wouldn’t object so
strenuously. But worse than facing
Big Elk on the courthouse steps is
facing him without her husband.
Where is he? She soon finds out why
he isn’t there. He’s been murdered,
but no one knows who did it. The
local Hopi tribe turns against her,
her irritating mother shows up,
the wealthy Barrett McCreary is
suspiciously currying her favor, and
she doesn’t know what to make of
the handsome Cole Huntsman.
Whose side is he on anyway?
What I appreciate most about
this page turner is that both sides
of the environmental questions
are presented. They’re gone into
rationally by the people who believe
they’re right. The reader doesn’t get
any diatribes or bias from the author
at all. Just a ripping good read.
Reviewed by Kaye George, author
of “Death in the Time of Ice” for
Suspense Magazine ■
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
STRANDED
By Alex Kava
For those roadweary travelers and
excited road-trippers
who find that cruising
the open highway is
far more interesting
than sitting still in
life, this book will be
an eye-opener.
You’ll certainly know, while
reading about the loneliness and
darkness of America’s highways
and the rest stops that litter the
nation for people to get a little shuteye, that you’re reading a master of
suspense who knows exactly how
to scare you to death.
After thirteen novels, FBI
Special Agent Maggie O’Dell is
again on the move with her partner,
Tully, in this new bone-chilling
story. Finding the body of a young
woman thrown in a ditch along
the highway begins a murderous
journey. At the gruesome scene,
Maggie discovers a map that will
lead her on a hunt for a serial
madman who kills unsuspecting
visitors in rest areas. It feels almost
as if this is a game created by the
unknown killer, offering Maggie a
chance to play. The map makes it
quite apparent that he wants her
and her partner to seek him out.
Victim upon victim vanish into
thin air, and it doesn’t take long
for Maggie and Tully to pick up
the gauntlet and play the crazy
individual’s game.
They hurry to find the location
that was given on the map so they
can begin to hunt down this killer.
But as Maggie gets closer to a
solution, the rest stop killer gets
worse, turning his eye on her as he
makes Maggie his next target.
A definite ‘edge-of-your-seat’
read, this is one book that should
be on the big screen; it would be
cool to listen to the low drumbeat
on surround-sound as this killer
picks out the next victim. Using
her fantastic skill for suspense, Alex
Kava has once again made Maggie
an investigator worth reading.
This is a definite keeper! Not to
mention, it may convince you to
skip the highway and travel by
plane.
Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author
of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent &
Lowery Book Two” published by
Suspense Publishing, an imprint of
Suspense Magazine ■
SuspenseMagazine.com
POE
By Brett Battles and Robert Gregory Browne
Tough-as-nails bounty hunter, Alexandra Poe has a good reason to take on a job for
Stonewall International, an agency that hunts down and captures fugitives from justice. That
good reason is a chance to find her father more than ten years after he disappeared from her life,
abandoning her and her brother.
With her mother killed in a terrorist attack and her brother in a mental facility, Alex
is desperate to find her father and to know why he left them. She accepts the mission to be
inserted into one of the most notoriously brutal women’s prisons in the world in order to pull out another
female fugitive with information the agency needs. The woman also has information Alex must have in order
to find her father.
Joined by her bounty hunting sidekick, Deuce, and her ex-army compatriot, Cooper, Alex goes into full
kickass mode to get the mark out of the prison before she can be taken out by opposing forces.
Battles and Browne have created a female protagonist who can out-fight and out-think the ‘baddies’ as
well as any man, and can do it looking good. Alex Poe is beautiful, tough, and able to dispatch bad guys with
all the flair of a female ‘James Bond.’ This story will keep the reader on the razor edge for hours of tense, nailbiting excitement.
If you have read stories by Brett Battles or Robert Gregory Browne in the past, you know these two are
awesome writers in their own right, but together, they ratchet up the excitement with this new series and
readers will be clambering for more hard-hitting Alexandra Poe adventures as soon as they read the last page.
Don’t miss this electrifying new series by these two remarkable authors.
Reviewed by DJ Weaver (WebbWeaver Reviews) co-author of “Collecting Innocents” published by Suspense
Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■
SHADOWS ON A CAPE COD WEDDING
By Lea Wait
October has arrived on bucolic Cape Cod. Shorter days, chilly temperatures, but still
warm enough for an invigorating walk on the beach. That’s what Maggie Summer, the likeable
protagonist in Lea Wait’s Antique Print Mystery series is looking forward to after her long drive
from New Jersey. Invited to the Cape to serve as maid of honor in her best friend Gussie’s
wedding, Maggie’s walk takes an unexpected turn when she stumbles over the bloated body of
a man, washed up on the beach.
Not the groom, thank goodness. Nor Maggie’s off-again, on-again lover, Will. The victim is a recent
arrival to the Cape, and one suspected of supplying drugs to high school students.
An investigation reveals that the dead man was on the Cape under an assumed name. In reality, he was
supposed to have died in Colorado several years before.
Maggie’s compassion, plus her insatiable curiosity, draws her more into the riddle of the man’s “second”
death. Especially when an autopsy reveals that the victim did not drown, he was shot in the head. When a
second murder happens, Maggie has to put aside her maid of honor duties and concentrate on catching a
killer. With the added complication of an approaching hurricane.
“Shadows on a Cape Cod Wedding” is the sixth in Lea Wait’s Antique Print Mystery series. And, like the
five previous ones, it’s not only an entertaining and riveting mystery, but a chance to learn more about the
fascinating world of antiques. Can’t wait for number seven!
Reviewed by Susan Santangelo, author of “Class Reunions Can Be Murder” for Suspense Magazine ■
NORTH OF NOWHERE
By Steve Hamilton
Alex McKnight is back and better than ever.
Antisocial is really the best phrase to sum up what Alex McKnight is feeling lately. The only
thing he seems to do is go out for meals at the Glasgow Inn. On the evening of his forty-ninth
birthday, Alex begins recounting to Jackie, the Inn’s owner, the list of failures he’s had. With a
failed marriage and a baseball career that fizzled out, he even goes on to tell Jackie about his job
as a policeman in Detroit that turned sour.
Jackie, growing tired of listening to Alex whine, gives him an ultimatum that he either leaves immediately
or joins him in a poker game. Alex agrees and they drive to a fancy home near the water to meet up with other
poker players.
The owner of the home, Winston Vargas, is a businessman who thinks that the Upper Peninsula will
be a boom town and bring in a lot of high rollers. Vargas loves to talk about himself and brag about his
accomplishments, and the other players soon tire of hearing it. But they’re not bored for long.
Masked robbers suddenly invade the home, hold the players at gunpoint, and rob Vargas. Alex, being the
only poker player who knows anything about investigative work, settles his police hat back on and works with
his former partner, Leon Prudell, to discover that the robbery is more than meets the eye.
Covering murder, greed, revenge, and much more, the author gives his readers a journey of suspense that
they’ll remember. With Alex coming out of his shell and working on the case, he realizes that he cannot back
away from his life—he can only move forward, which is exactly what Hamilton does with this series. With
another great ending, the author brings Alex McKnight back to life, and readers will be counting the days until
the next book appears.
Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by
Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■
35
A CASE OF REDEMPTION
By Adam Mitzner
This is one novel that will have you running to the library and demanding a copy.
Our main character is Attorney Dan Sorensen, who was known as a real go-getter in his
New York City law firm. Sadly, when tragedy struck and Dan lost his wife and daughter to a car
accident, the law took a backseat. Turning to drinking and isolation, Dan found a way to numb
himself and try to forget his loss.
On his way to the bottom of the barrel, Dan looks to be a goner. But another lawyer, Nina
Harrington, steps in at the right time to halt his demise, asking him if he would be interested in defending
a new and talented rapper who has been accused of killing his girlfriend. The rapper, of course, is claiming
complete innocence.
Feeling the small spark still left inside him for the law, Dan wants to get back on track. And even though
he’s not sure this type of case will get him there, he and Nina forge ahead and go meet their new client.
Going by the stage name of Legally Dead, L.D., as he wants to be known, he is adamant about his
innocence. Although the two lawyers are more than a little skeptical of his story, they do begin creating a
defense. Most all the evidence against their client is circumstantial, so they attempt to jump odd roadblocks
that are put in their way in order to establish an alibi for the night L.D.’s girlfriend was killed.
The writing in this mystery is first class; the pace is extremely quick, and all characters—main and
supporting—have been well thought out by the author. There are even some special events at the end that will
really surprise you. If you’re a Law and Order fan, this is one book where the ‘Order’ is absolutely unforgettable.
Head to the library and demand it!
Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by
Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■
POISONED POLITICS
By Maggie Sefton
Maggie Sefton’s second book in the Molly Malone series, “Poisoned Politics,” is filled with
descriptions of political garden parties, humid summer days, and Georgetown architecture.
Unfortunately for Molly Malone and her friends, it’s full of plenty of political intrigue as well.
While Molly is busy working for Colorado Senator John Russell, her old friend Samantha
Calhoun finds herself embroiled in a scandal when her married amour, Rep. Quentin Wilson,
allegedly commits suicide in her posh Washington, DC home. Samantha is absent at the time,
but as the DC gossipmongers circle, Molly comes to Samantha’s aid, doing all she can to defend her friend
from suspicious involvement in Wilson’s death.
Investigating the death, which begins to look more and more like murder, leads Molly to revive the
research her niece Karen was doing prior to her murder the previous spring. As Molly digs deeper, several
shady characters are concerned enough to keep a close eye on Molly—and act to stop her, if need be.
On the personal front, as Samantha attempts to mend her wild ways, Molly continues to re-kindle her
romance with Danny, a retired Marine.
Readers may wish to begin with the first Molly Malone book—those coming in without background
in Molly’s world may find themselves wondering about some characters and back story—and some readers
may be unsatisfied with a lack of resolution to the story as well, as this is a continuing series. However, those
readers looking for a taste of political intrigue and lush descriptions of Georgetown neighborhoods, Maggie
Sefton’s “Poisoned Politics” will more than satisfy.
Reviewed by Sharon Salonen for Suspense Magazine ■
PINOT ENVY
By Edward Finstein
From the title to the plot, this is one book that hits on all cylinders: humor, mystery,
adventure—the author has certainly put his years of experience and knowledge in the wine
industry to great use.
Woody Robins is a wine expert who specializes in investigating rare wines; from the field
where they were first created to their journey into the wine shops and wine cellars of the rich
and famous in California. In the gorgeous Napa Valley near San Francisco, Woody is hired by
an uber-rich grape grower to find a priceless, extremely large bottle of wine (red Burgundy) that was stolen
from his wine cellar. This wine was kept in a special place in the cellar that could only be accessed by two
people. Why all the secrecy? Well, it’s not often you find a bottle of wine that was once the property of French
Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte.
As the large cast of characters begin to grow, readers are charmed as they start snooping alongside Woody
and his cohorts, including an aunt that he is trying to help out with an operation she needs, a girlfriend who
wants to make their twosome permanent, a detective friend, and some determined mob members in order to
locate the famous bottle.
A really entertaining read, the history of wine is told in a thrilling, exciting way. Woody is definitely not
your usual detective in style or credentials, and has a tendency to draw attention to himself by wearing the
old-style ‘Zoot Suits’ and hats. He can’t for the life of him blend into any situation, but standing out wherever
he goes with his vim and vigor, allows people to always root for Woody as he falls into mess after mess that he
has to get out of in order to appear (hopefully soon) in his next whodunit!
Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of
Suspense Magazine ■
36
THE GOOD, THE BAD,
AND THE WITCHY
By Heather Blake
Harriette
Harkette,
a
Floracrafter, is throwing herself
a formal 80th birthday party
complete with black roses and a
stripper. Harriette can’t do this
on her own so she hires Darcy
and Aunt Ve’s personal concierge
service, As You Wish, to make it
the most elegant birthday bash
ever! It will also be the perfect
opportunity for Harriette to show
her newest creation, the midnight
black Witching Hour rose.
The party is a hit except for a
few minor problems. First, the cake
is late and the cake delivery boy
Michael Healy is missing. Second,
and of a much worse consequence
to As You Wish’s reputation, is that
Darcy realizes she should have
paid more attention to the stripper
she hired for Harriette’s party.
Harriette is about to be wished a
happy 80th birthday by a stripper
who is close to her own age and has
a healthy gut.
Leaving Aunt Ve to handle
the party, Darcy goes in search of
the cake and the delivery boy. She
finds Michael, dead in the bushes.
Once again, Darcy is brought into
a murder mystery which she must
solve as Michael has imprinted
himself on her and he will stay with
her until his murder is solved.
Just about everybody in town
is a “Crafter” of one sort or another.
Darcy knows Michael’s death has
something to do with Harriette’s
Witching Hour rose, the “spell”
of which she will not share with
anybody, including her own family.
Harriette’s obsession with “her”
Witching Hour rose is making
her one of the prime suspects in
Michael’s death.
Darcy and her boyfriend Nick
are determined to find out the
truth behind Michael’s death and
the midnight black Witching Hour
rose.
Heather Blake has written an
exceptional enchanting story for all
ages. She will have you convinced
that “witches” aren’t “witches”
after all. They are Crafters.
This is a must
read, but make
sure you have time
because you will not
put it down.
Reviewed by Sherri
Nemick for Suspense
Magazine ■
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Speak of
the Devil
By Allison Leotta
Speak of the
devil and he will
appear! Although
a creepy premise,
this novel by the incredible
author of “Discretion” shows
readers that evil is most definitely
out there…in all forms.
Set in the nation’s capital,
which is right up there in the
creepy department when it comes
to secrets and corruption, Anna
Curtis—a sex crimes prosecutor
in D.C.—is on her way to propose
to the man she has fallen in love
with. It’s been a rough ride for
Anna and Jack Bailey, police chief
of homicide, seeing as that Jack
has always wanted a long term
commitment, but had to wait
a long time for Anna to come
around. But now they seem to
be on the same page and Anna
is ready to make the bold move,
asking Jack to meet her at a
restaurant so she can surprise
him by proposing marriage. All is
good.
But…as
this
couple
celebrates their choice, in another
part of the city there is a gang
attack on a brothel; two people
are killed and a very frightening
man known only as “Diablo”
seems to be running the show.
Happiness is put on hold when
Anna is assigned to investigate
the “Devil” and bring him to
justice. As her investigation takes
her to MS-13, one of America’s
most brutal gangs, Anna comes
up with some secrets being kept
by law officials, while her own
demise has been “green-lighted”
by the gang. Basically, whichever
member sees her first, has to kill
her.
This is a true thriller, and
this author—who was once a
prosecutor—shows her immense
judicial savvy when it comes to
everything from the descriptions
of the backrooms of power and
the inner-workings of the Federal
Witness Protection Program, to
the gang rituals that speak only of
evil. An excellent story, fans will
certainly hope that this is not the
last installment in the life of Anna
Curtis!
Reviewed by Amy Lignor,
author of “The Sapphire
Storm” published by Suspense
Publishing, an imprint of Suspense
Magazine ■
SuspenseMagazine.com
TOO DARK TO SLEEP
By Dianne Gallagher
Ex-detective, ex-wife, and ex-psychiatric patient Maggie Quinn, is just trying to take one
day at a time. A former top detective with Chicago Area One, she tragically lost her daughter at
a young age and then lost her mind. Her suicide attempt with an exacto knife down both arms
backfires and she survives only to be placed in a psychiatric facility for months, and now she’s out
of a job.
But the job calls her back. Not as Detective Maggie Quinn; instead, she is given the job title
of “Consultant.” With it being an election year for the city of Chicago, you can’t hire a lunatic to catch a killer
and expect the voters to vote for you...or can you?
Maggie agrees to come back to work as a “consultant” only if she can do it her way. It’s obvious they
need her as the previous crime scenes worked by the other detectives are compromised and are of no use. No
evidence, no witnesses, just dead bodies with their chests surgically cut open. Until the next murder. Just like
the previous ones, there are strangulation marks and a surgically sliced open chest cavity, but Maggie sees that
something is different about this one.
This latest crime scene is an obsession for Maggie because she knows this will be her only chance to catch
this killer. Other than her new partner, Nick Dublowski, who is as green as algae, she must catch this killer and
be home before dark. Sometimes, she doesn’t make it and the walking nightmares start to play games with her
head.
Maggie is chasing a top cardiac doctor, convinced he is the killer. But is he? Is she going to ruin the career
of an innocent man just to save her own?
An outstanding, suspenseful novel you don’t want to end. Maggie is a character to cheer for, be afraid of,
and feel sorry for. We can only hope that this isn’t the end of Maggie.
Reviewed by Sherri Nemick for Suspense Magazine ■
SHOOT THE DOG
By Brad Smith
The third mystery novel in Brad Smith’s Virgil Cain Series, “Shoot the Dog” aims the spotlight
at the seedy underbelly of the motion-picture industry and corruption inside an Indian-owned
casino in upstate New York.
Former baseball player and hardworking farmer Virgil Cain is a ruggedly handsome nononsense man with a low tolerance for condescending posers like the movie producers who
want to hire him and his two Percheron draft horses for scenes in their circa 1800s western
filming on location nearby. Virgil reluctantly agrees because he needs the money for his property taxes.
Production has barely begun when the movie’s lead actress is found murdered. Ronnie Red Hawk, a shady
casino executive and one of the movie’s producers, loses no time replacing her with a young starlet who is the
object of his lust. Virgil’s girlfriend, police detective Claire Marchand, investigates the murder. Soon, another
young woman is found dead under suspicious circumstances. Virgil keeps a close eye on the set, worried a
sweet ten-year-old actress will be the next victim.
Not willing to risk his relationship with Claire, Virgil fends off the brazen advances of a young starlet with
a dark past. He does some investigating on his own and suspects there may be more than one killer lurking in
the shadows. The tension escalates as Virgil struggles to save Claire from a suspected sociopath and protect a
defenseless child from a ruthless killer.
Brad Smith creates such vivid characters, including the endearing draft horses Bob and Nelly, that their
images will linger in readers’ minds long after they close the book on this engaging tale of murder and betrayal
in a simple farming community.
Reviewed by S.L. Menear, author of “Deadstick Dawn” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of
Suspense Magazine ■
CANDLE THE MOON
By Candi Cornell
With more twists than a corkscrew and a story more complex than fine wine, “Candle the
Moon” leads us through a suspense-laden murder mystery in Tucson through the eyes of private
investigator, Maggie Moretti.
It all starts with the mysterious murder of Nicki, the daughter of Sophia, Moretti’s father’s
goomatta, who was attempting to blackmail Maggie, throwing suspicion of motive on several
people, including Peter, the fiancé of Lisa, Maggie’s BFF. Only Maggie knows how close she
comes to being killed, and where Nicki’s body is hidden, but can she keep that secret and distribute enough
misinformation to make others think that Nicki just ran off with a wealthy man to explain her being missing?
Over the years, Maggie, in her role as P.I., has helped several wealthy women out of a tight spot as they
prepared to battle against soon-to-be ex-husbands in divorce court, none more than wealthy heiress, Jane.
When it turned out her lying, cheating scum of a husband was Maggie’s ex-husband Joe Stygian, she is happy
to help put the screws to him. What Maggie doesn’t know is that Joe was cheating on Jane with Sophia, who in
turn put out a hit on Maggie because of the ill-will between Maggie and Nicki. Joe, partner in bed and in crime,
took that hit and sold it to his twin brother Dan, and so the story revolves again.
The reader is dragged through this hot delicious mess, hoping for a happy ending, but Cornell has left
room for more than one twist in the end to make you shake your head in wonder, and sets up the next saga in
Maggie’s twisted life wonderfully. Bring on the sequel.
Reviewed by Mark P. Sadler, author of “Blood on his Hands” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of
Suspense Magazine ■
37
CLASS REUNIONS CAN BE MURDER
By Susan Santangelo
Being the fourth in the Baby Boomer Mysteries series, “Class Reunions can be Murder”
is still high on the charts and so is Santangelo. This author can whip together a story that
will have you cackling. Warning: don’t read it when others are around. If so, they may end up
wondering if there’s something wrong with you because you’ll be doubling over in laughter.
Carol Andrews is at it again. The poor woman can’t stay away from dead bodies. It’s not
like she goes looking for them, they just seem to appear wherever she is.
This time a body is found in Mount Saint Francis Academy, an all-girl Catholic school. Oh, excuse me,
it’s Fairport Manor Senior Living Community now. Or will be right after the Ruby Reunion. Forty years after
graduation, Carol is talked into being on the committee to head up the reunion. The dinner the night before
is a huge hit. They decide to stay in rooms the night before the actual reunion at Fairport. But Carol doesn’t
get the chance for any sleep that night. She and her girlfriend Nancy walk into the room, only to find a dead
body in one of the beds. And the victim is none other than Carol’s arch nemesis from her school days. Just
great. Finding bodies is what happens to Carol. Can we expect less?
It’s hilarious reading about the following excursions and escapades that Carol goes through to find out
first, why everyone believes the suicide note and second, who is actually responsible for the murder.
Honestly, even if you have not read a book in Santangelo’s series before, you really need to pick this one
up. Pure entertainment at its best!
Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Other Side: Melinda’s Story” for Suspense Magazine ■
SLEEPING IN EDEN
By Nicole Baart
A sleepy rural town in northwest Iowa may sound like an unlikely setting for a murder
mystery, but unlikely settings often are the best. When Dr. Lucas Hudson, filling in for the
local coroner, is called to the scene of the apparent suicide of a local farmer, he has no idea
the circumstances will lead to more complications for his troubled marriage. And as Lucas
delves deeper into the murder that is discovered alongside the suicide, he finds himself in
conflict with his friend and police chief of the small town of Blackhawk, Alex Kennedy. As he
searches to sort out his complicated feelings about his social worker wife and a troubled young woman who
disappeared eight years previously, Lucas goes his own way, to the extent of withholding evidence, a tiny gold
ring that he found at the crime scene.
At the same time, a teenage love story from a decade before reveals the dark side to a time of supposed
innocence. Meg Painter was caught between her friendships with Dylan Reid, a renegade and outsider in
the town, and Jess Langbroek, neighbor and childhood friend. Meg’s emotional confusion can only lead to
hurt on all sides, until eventually her choices come to light as Lucas follows the clues to identify the murder
victim found in the barn.
A haunting story, “Sleeping in Eden” is a book that illustrates the complexities of human emotions and
the pain we all carry into our relationships. Nicole Baart tells the two stories of relationships that have gone
off the rails in a sensitive and intricate style, missing nothing. And the questions of guilt and innocence are
not answered but simply questioned, leaving the reader pondering.
Reviewed by Kathleen Heady, author of “Lydia’s Story” for Suspense Magazine ■
SCORPION DECEPTION
By Andrew Kaplan
Six weeks out of a mission in the Soviet Union, and
having turned freelance, former CIA agent codenamed
Scorpion finds himself in Africa on a relief mission
that turns deadly. In Switzerland, a hit team raids the
American embassy and steals information listing names
of government officials from various departments and
agents...including Scorpion’s. The blame falls on Iran and
as America gears up for possible war, Scorpion is pulled
back into the espionage game to discover the truth. One
enigmatic name surfaces: the Gardener. As Scorpion
battles both time and enemy agents, the discoveries he
makes may determine not only his fate but they may have
international repercussions.
I read the previous Scorpion novel and was ready for
more. This one roams from Africa to Spain to Iran and the
action never stops. What other book will have you dodging
bullets on the street of Paris before rolling
you down a snow covered mountain outside
of Tehran? Kaplan is an author you can
depend on for a fast moving, no nonsense
story with a few twists and turns to keep you
guessing. Feel the sting of the Scorpion and
put Kaplan on the list of authors to read.
Reviewed by Stephen Brayton, author of
“Alpha” for Suspense Magazine ■
38
THE LOCH NESS
LEGACY
By Boyd Morrison
Boyd Morrison is slowly
carving out his own writing
genre. “The Loch Ness Legacy”
is the fourth book in the Tyler
Locke series, and Boyd takes not
only the action to another level but his writing
has become so entertaining that anybody who
picks up the book, won’t put it down. From the
beginning of the book when the Eiffel Tower
comes under attack, all the way to the final
climax, Boyd takes the reader on a journey
through time and throughout the world. His
character Tyler Locke is one of the best written
characters in action historical thrill writing
today.
“The Loch Ness Legacy” will hit readers on
many emotional levels, from suspense, to being
scared, to romantic, to out of breath, this book
really does have it all. If the Amazing Race was
only between Tyler Locke and Cotton Malone
(written in several books by NY Times bestselling
author Steve Berry), it would be difficult to bet
against Tyler Locke. Reviewed by John Raab for Suspense Magazine ■
CLOUD
COVER
By Ron Terpening
Set in 1984,
this
incredibly
entertaining
and
thrilling novel focuses
on the uncertainty of the Cold War
era. This tale is truly a welcome
change from all the fanged ones and
the walking dead, because when it
comes to this time period—dead is
most assuredly dead.
In Ottawa, Canada a military
attaché from Yugoslavia defects, but
before the Canadian government
can question him he’s killed while
in custody. From here on out, the
really good spy stuff of the 1980s
commences.
In Trieste, Italy someone is
eliminating NATO agents one by
one. The agent’s case officer, Michael
Higgins, is warned by a lovely
Canadian spy that he is harboring
a traitor. Suddenly, Higgins is on
the run, framed for the murder of
one of his own people. Chased by
an unrelenting enemy he doesn’t
know, Michael’s only hope is to stay
alive long enough to figure out the
truth, while also falling deeply in
love with Fae, the Canadian spy.
On to Belgrade, Serbia where
a KGB station chief is asked nicely
to return to Moscow so he can be
given new orders. Making a huge
mistake in judgment, he checks into
this new journey he’ll be taking on
and finds himself on the bad side of
a GRU agent stationed in the area.
From the mountains of Yugoslavia
to the mysterious locations that
make up the truly cool spy era,
everything from Croatian terrorists
to the KGB, GRU, and NATO
agents all come together as they
play one last game of ‘who did what
to whom.’
If there really is a spinetingling category, this book wins
it hands-down. Readers who miss
that gripping, chilling writing that
comes from a lost time period of
pure mystery and suspense will curl
up in a chair and literally ignore
everyone for hours, just to ride the
roller coaster with these incredible
characters. A breath of fresh air, this
is a definite keeper!
Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author
of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent &
Lowery Book Two” published by
Suspense Publishing, an imprint of
Suspense Magazine ■
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
THE MUTATUS
PROCEDURE
By John David Krygelski
When I was given the book to
review by Krygelski at his Tucson
reading, I mentioned I was glad he
finally had a suspense novel for me
to review and he told me, “if you are
a Christian, it’s a suspense novel,
if you are an atheist, it is science
fiction.” What it turned out to be is
a blockbuster that takes you by the
scruff of the neck and thrusts you
forward at breakneck speed until it
drops you off exhausted on the last
page.
Judtson Kent, a Tucson based
writer and skeptic, made a living
exposing and ridiculing popular
myths: space aliens at Roswell, alien
abductions, Illuminati conspiracies.
When he has a couple of blackouts,
physician Saylor Costello arranges
to have some tests run. What they
discover leads them on a journey,
both metaphysically and in real
life, globetrotting in the name of
vengeance against unknown forces.
When the black SUVs and bogus
Homeland Security agents dressed
like the Blues Brothers show up, a
sinister plot involving mind control
of Kent and others they want
hushed up, is revealed and they take
matters into their own hands.
With the help of a local fan,
Kelsey and her private bodyguard,
they secure the two men and a
host of others who were under the
insidious mind-control program,
in a disused Cold-war rocket silo.
They rescue a former astronaut,
a geologist, an immunologist, a
TV Producer, a chemist, and an
archaeologist, and all who have
been mind-controlled, and release
them from the mental prisons they
were held in. Once free, they’re able
to discover and expose a plot to
overthrow our government.
In an incredulous story,
Krygelski blows away the myths
of the little green men, the moon
landings, and space ships in
Roswell that we have been fed
for generations. Whether you are
a believer in all things alien or a
skeptic, you too, will be highly
entertained and swept along with
this magnificent tale of David and
Goliath proportions.
Reviewed by Mark P. Sadler, author
of “Blood on his Hands” published
by Suspense Publishing, an imprint
of Suspense Magazine ■
SuspenseMagazine.com
STATE OF EMERGENCY
By Marc Cameron
Whatever terrifying scenarios can be imagined in a world of international terrorists, drug
dealers, arms dealers, spies, and just plain ruthless characters, Marc Cameron has brought
them all together in “State of Emergency,” the third thriller featuring Special Agent Jericho
Quinn.
After two college students who have been traveling in Finland die gruesome deaths from
radiation poisoning, and a Russian and an American special agent are murdered, Quinn is put
on the case, even as he trails the United States Speaker of the House, who is himself suspected of espionage.
Quinn narrowly escapes death at the hands of a bosozoku group, a highly trained and violent Japanese gang,
in a parking lot in Alexandria, Virginia before being called away to deal with the radiation threat. Quinn
eventually follows the terrorist trail to South America, and joins the famous Dakar Rally, a 6,000-mile
motorcycle run which is right up author Cameron’s alley, as he is an avid motorcyclist.
This story takes the reader on a dizzying tour of the world as it moves from terrorist encampments in
Africa to the high echelons of national security in Washington, DC. The extreme ruthlessness that can exist
in humankind is concentrated in characters with no scruples and perhaps no sense of humanity as most of
us understand it. Even more frightening, the target of these terrorists, who have somehow gotten their hands
on a “dirty bomb” named Baba Yaga for a character in a Russian fairy tale, is a gathering of a diverse group
of children from a number of ethnic and religious backgrounds for an interfaith conference in Texas. “State
of Emergency” is an action-packed novel with a thrill on every page and enough plot twists to keep you up
turning pages far into the night.
Reviewed by Kathleen Heady, author of “Lydia’s Story” for Suspense Magazine ■
CRADLE LAKE
By Ronald Malfi
Award winner Ronald Malfi brought my complete senses into a haunting novel. There,
I embrace a thrilling horror that is best described as memorable. I won’t soon forget the
anxiousness as I rush from one page to the next to find out just what happens next.
Alan and Heather Hammerstun had a bad run of things in New York, so when Alan
discovers his uncle Phillip, who he hasn’t seen in a long time, wills him his house in North
Carolina, he thinks it’s a perfect plan for them to start over.
But he couldn’t be more wrong.
Their new home is not picturesque; it has its problems and needs a lot of attention. The people living
in the town and the actual town itself seem to be concealing a secret. And Alan finds out what it is—Cradle
Lake. Seems innocent enough, but it’s evil bubbling about, not peaceful waters.
Suffering from depression and dealing with past attempted suicides, Heather struggles to find her way.
Just when Alan and Heather think they can be a family again, the real facts about the lake materialize, but it’s
too late. Even neighbors who try to friend them can’t help. Alan is caught in a web of paranoia, a house that
is alive in its own right, and a town he thinks is crazy.
Absolutely recommended if you like a great horror. I look forward to more of Malfi’s work.
Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Other Side: Melinda’s Story” published by Suspense
Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■
THE LAST WHISPER IN THE DARK
By Tom Piccirilli
Terrier (Terry) Rand and the rest of his family of thieves, all named after dog breeds, are
not likeable people. They live in a world where thieving and lying are the norm, and honesty is
rare. His father, Pinscher, is a former burglar who may be in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s,
while his grandfather Shep has succumbed to that disease. A brother named Collie has been
executed for multiple murders, and the teenage sister, Airedale, known as Dale, is involved in
secret activities.
Tom Piccirilli tells their stories with impeccable originality. His characterization brings every one of
these people to life, from the estranged grandfather who plots murder as he lies on his deathbed, to Dale,
who is involved in making videos with a group of teens who break into houses, steal, and perform other acts
of vandalism and mayhem.
As Terry follows his family business of crime, which is more of an inherent family tendency, he struggles
with emotions that he feels for his family, when the closeness of love and hate relationships leads him to
places in himself he didn’t realize existed. At the same time, Terry struggles to protect the woman he loved
and lost, who is now married to his friend Chub. Chub has tried to stick to his legitimate business repairing
cars, but gets caught up with a gang of criminals with more violent tendencies than the Rand family, who
stick to the more benign occupations of cat burglar and con man.
Living in this world of dubious definitions of right and wrong, Terry’s most compelling need is love,
and the petty crimes that are the undercurrent of his life somehow all lead him back to the love he has for his
family, and for Kimmy and their daughter Scooter, both of whom he lost. “The Last Whisper in the Dark”
is a compelling story with characters who are real, although living a life that is unreal. I look forward to the
next in the series.
Reviewed by Kathleen Heady, author of “Lydia’s Story” for Suspense Magazine ■
39
HAMMETT UNWRITTEN
By Owen Fitzstephen
Dashiell Hammett’s last case as a PI is over and he now has possession of a worthless Maltese Falcon. It is the statue of a bird that
sat on his desk for years as he wrote books one after the other. He is an amazing success as an author and then suddenly, the stories
stop.
His writers block begins when he gives the statue away to a woman from his past. Now he wonders about the ‘metaphysical
qualities’ the statue supposedly possesses. There are so many people intent upon possessing the real Maltese Falcon that Hammett
can’t help but get involved in the mystery of it all.
A series of events lead him from place to place over a span of many years. He is a skeptic at first, but the more he learns and the more that
happens, the more he must admit there may be more to the statue than he ever believed.
The author weaves an enticing tale of fact and fiction.
Reviewed by Ashley Dawn, author of “Shadows of Pain” published by Suspense Publishing an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■
THE COLLINI CASE
By Ferdinand Von Schirach
I just finished reading this book and I sit here stunned. When I picked this book up, I thought it looked interesting and different.
I wasn’t wrong, but in no way was I prepared for the reason behind the murder of a socially prominent man—Hans Meyer.
Fabrizio Collini walks into a hotel, brutally kills a man with a gun and finishes the scene by stamping the victim’s face almost
beyond recognition. Collini then proceeds to the lobby and tells them the man in room 400 is dead and sits, waiting patiently for his
arrest. Was he crazy? Was this something personal? This horrific crime was about more than just personal revenge, it was about so
much more.
Caspar Leinen has been assigned Collini’s case. Even after he finds out he grew up with the victim’s family, he still represents him, arguing
vigorously for his client’s defense. And when Collini refuses to give his motive, Leinin goes on the hunt and learns the truth.
Von Schirach uses his own expertise as a defense lawyer to pen a novel that raises awareness of violent cruelty and what one would go through
for retribution and just law.
Powerfully written, this novel’s conclusion left me spellbound.
Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Other Side: Melinda’s Story,” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine
■
THE BOOKSELLER
By Mark Pryor
Hugo Marston is the head of security at the U.S. Embassy in Paris. What a plum assignment! To live in one of the most beautiful
cities in the world, with very little threat to the embassy and the Americans who serve there...what a place to serve!
As Hugo becomes familiar with the city, he makes friends with an elderly bookseller, one of the many who have book stalls along
the Seine. But suddenly, Max disappears. Hugo is concerned because the old man is a Holocaust survivor, and has become dear to
Hugo.
Soon, other booksellers also disappear, and as Hugo investigates, he learns that there is a more sinister connection to the
disappearances. It seems that there is an unknown drug connection, and turf wars break out in the streets.
Then Hugo himself becomes a target. With the aid of an old friend, Tom Green, a semi-retired CIA agent, Hugo puts the pieces together and
brings both men to the center of the criminal organization that is responsible for the deaths and disappearances.
This exciting and well-written novel is the first in a new series and I look forward to additional installments. Somehow, I can see this on the
big screen with someone like Bruce Willis as Hugo and Donald Sutherland as Tom Green. Hollywood??? Are you listening??? This would make a
great action movie!
Congratulations, Mark Pryor. You’ve written a real gem!
Reviewed by Holly Price author of “At Death’s Door” for Suspense Magazine ■
UNTHINKABLE
By Clyde Phillips
This is the long-awaited fourth in the Jane Candiotti/Kenny Marks police procedural series. Jane has been told to take it easy on
the job, since she’s pregnant with the couple’s first child, but you know how that will go for a hard-charging officer.
As the story opens, people are lining up to die, one after another—our clue that this story will involve a lot of bodies. Each
person is seen in connection with Stella’s, a San Francisco deli, either entering the restaurant or working there. There don’t seem to be
connections between most of them, which makes the case a real puzzler, as they are all murdered there at the same time. One victim,
however, is the nephew of Jane’s husband, and that makes this case personal for Jane.
Jane is not only pregnant but she’s forty years old, which puts her at even more risk. She can’t back down on this case, though. Tenuous
connections between the dead are explored and lead to dead ends, time after time, until the break comes and leads to the thrilling conclusion.
The mystery is a worthy addition to this series by the former executive producer of the television series, Dexter.
Reviewed by Kaye George, author of “Death in the Time of Ice,” for Suspense Magazine ■
THE HAND THAT TREMBLES
By Kjell Eriksson
Swedish County commissioner, Seven-Arne, disappears in the middle of a meeting and no one knows what happened to him.
Years later after he has been declared dead, someone he knows sees him in India. He is shocked and chagrined because for years he
has lead a simple, quiet life and now his past is catching up with him.
A woman’s severed foot washes up on the beach and Detective Ann Lindell’s job is to investigate what happened. Her investigation
leads her to a small community which is entirely too close to where her former lover lives for comfort. There are three bachelors living
in the community, who seem the most likely suspects, but there are too many questions.
Whose foot is it? How did it wind up in the water? Why would anyone have killed/dismembered the lady? These are all questions Ann has
to answer. At the same time, a cold case is investigated about an old man that was beaten to death. Maybe the biggest question she has to answer
is, how is the past affecting the present?
Separate storylines the author artfully wove into one!
Reviewed by Ashley Dawn, author of “Shadows of Pain” published by Suspense Publishing an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■
40
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Movies
JOBS
2013
Genre – Biography/Drama (PG-13)
Ashton Kutcher gives a fine portrayal of Steve Jobs in this biopic. Say what? Let
me repeat that in case you thought you read wrong. Ashton Kutcher can actually
act!
A few of the complaints from reviewers may be that Jobs, the founder of Apple,
is portrayed as an egotistical, disloyal so-and-so. However, if you have read a few
books on him, it appears this depiction is pretty much on point. In his defense, if
you are going to change the way the whole world operates, you probably will, and
should be allowed to, behave like you know better than everyone.
Don’t be waiting through the whole film for the story of the development of
the iPod. It only tells the story leading up to the launch of the iMac. But we mostly
all know the iPod story by now, don’t we? We’ve Googled it on our smart phones.
However, it is still a fascinating and well-paced drama and did I mention Ashton
Kutcher does a good job?
Reviewed by Susan May http://anadventureinfilm.blogspot.com.au/ for Suspense
Magazine ■
The World's End
2013
Genre – Action/Comedy (R)
As coincidences go this is a quasi-English version of Seth Rogan’s film This
Is The End, currently in cinemas. Same set up: a group of friends partying and
drinking to excess only to discover that it’s the world which will succumb to a bad
hangover.
Director Edgar Wright adds the final film to what he’s labeled his “Cornetto
Trilogy”—the first two being Shaun of the Dead (2004) and Hot Fuzz (2007)—
starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost who are also co-collaborators.
Gary King (Simon Pegg) has not done well for himself and we meet him
in rehab. He believes by rounding up the old school gang and reattempting the
challenge of drinking their way around a home town pub circuit ending at ‘The
World’s End’ pub, he will somehow put things right in his life.
He gathers his childhood pals, now well settled into middle-age, Andy (Nick
Frost), Peter (Eddie Marsan), Oliver (Martin Freeman), and Steven (Paddy
Considine), who reluctantly agree to join him in his booze goal.
The further into the pub crawl they go though, the more they realize things are
not quite right in the village; people who should know them, don’t remember them
and the behavior of some of the inhabitants is beyond unusual. Amidst this there is
an unresolved love triangle with Oliver’s sister Sam (Rosamund Pike).
Pegg fabulously portrays an off-the-rails but somehow loveable misfit with some darker moments hinting at his ability to
take on deep, dramatic roles. There are some solid laughs, along with introspection on living life in the past and the value of
our humanness. It’s also a great advertisement for not drinking to excess.
However, it didn’t give me the “Hot Fuzzies” like Pegg & crew’s previous collaborations. My husband found this film far
more amusing than me. It could be a guy thing or it could be the other two films raised my expectations a tad too high. It’s
still fun and, somehow, the end of the world does go down better with a drink.
Reviewed by Susan May http://anadventureinfilm.blogspot.com.au/ for Suspense Magazine ■
42
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Movies
OBLIVION
2013 (DVD Release)
Genre – Adventure/Action (PG-13)
The trailer for Oblivion appears to give away the plot. Turns out, it wasn’t giving much
away at all. Director Joseph Kosinski (Tron: Legacy) takes the story in quite a different
direction.
Tom Cruise plays Jack Harper, a kind of veteran security/mechanic assigned to an
abandoned, devastated Earth after it was attacked by aliens sixty years ago. As part of a
mop-up crew, he cares for the mining equipment which is removing resources for the
future of mankind; spending his days repairing drones who defend the equipment from
the remaining renegade aliens.
All is good until he begins to experience inexplicable memories of life on Earth
before the invasion and is drawn into a search to uncover the mystery of his recollections
after he rescues a beautiful woman who arrives on a damaged spacecraft.
Oblivion does feel somewhat patched together from other films like 2001 Space
Odyssey, Aeon Flux, Moon, the original Planet of the Apes. There’s even a bit of Mad Max
in there.
However, if you haven’t been sitting in a darkened cinema all your life, you probably won’t notice. It’s big and ambitious,
but suffers from a very slow middle act. The world building is quite stunning and there is a lot to like amidst a couple of
gaping plot-holes and the strange pacing.
Reviewed by Susan May http://anadventureinfilm.blogspot.com.au/ for Suspense Magazine ■
SuspenseMagazine.com
43
1
Nightmare
The door made a creaking sound,
as all doors seem to do in the dead
of night, when he began to open it. He
continued to push it ever so slowly until
he was able to squeeze himself through
into the house, making as little noise as
possible for fear of being heard. Once
the door was closed again, he turned to
survey his new surroundings. It took
some time for his eyes to adjust from
the blinding darkness, and when they
did come into focus, it was still hard to
make out which way he should go. He
began to move very cautiously in the
direction of where the bedroom should
be, because the last thing he wanted to
do was trip over a table or run into a
wall and wake her up.
Overwhelming anxiousness filled
him, and moving slowly was very
difficult. Inching his way through
the house, his hands out in front of
him like a blind man without a cane
feeling his way along the walls of the
darkened hallway, he finally found the
door he was searching for and could
barely contain himself. Standing there
in the dark trying to remain calm, a
small giggle exited his throat. He put
his hand to his mouth to stop himself
from making any noise; the other hand
was trembling as he opened the door.
His heart was beating against his rib
cage like someone was locked behind
it wanting to get out. Maybe it was his
conscience trying to burst through and
stop him from going through with it.
He took a deep breath and in the dark,
44
a grin stretched across his shadowed
face.
The door opened to reveal a young
woman lying in her bed, completely
unaware that someone was watching
her while she slept. The moonlight
coming in through the trees outside
her window made fingerlike shadows
that stretched around every inch of the
room and held the darkness at bay. She
looked so peaceful laying there with her
blanket pulled up to her chest, probably
having a wonderful dream about some
handsome hunk sweeping her off her
feet. That’s what they do right, young
women dream about their knight in
shining armor coming to take them
away from their boring lives and make
all their dreams come true.
After staring down at her for several
minutes admiring how pretty she was,
and wondering how someone could
sleep so peacefully, the grin left his
face. Night always meant bad dreams,
and a great deal of insomnia. Hell, he
was lucky to get two or three hours of
sleep a night. He started to feel jealous
of this pretty, young girl mocking him
as she lay there. Stepping into the room
towards the bed, and the sleeping young
woman, he grabbed her by the throat,
and she woke up instantly.
She tried to scream, but was unable
to, he had placed his hand over her
mouth. He got on top of her and sat on
her stomach with his knees pinning her
arms. She fought, but to no avail; he had
her pinned down on the bed with his
By James Cool
heavy body and she couldn’t move. He
was a large man probably double her
size and weight. With tears welling in
her eyes, she tried to see who or what
was on top of her without success. It
was too dark to make out anything.
Her unknown assailant started to
laugh as she lay there trying to break
free. The laughing stopped as abruptly
as it started and everything was silent
for what seemed like an eternity as he
stared at her with an expressionless
face.
Pulling a hunting knife from his
boot he started to laugh again; only
this time it was a faint giggle, the same
one he had in the hallway when he was
trying to conceal his excitement. The
same knife he used while gutting deer
was about to be used to gut this pretty
young woman. He laughed louder than
before as he raised the knife above her
chest, a small bit of moonlight from the
window gleamed across the polished
blade as he plunged it down hard. Bones
snapped and from there everything was
all too easy.
2
Jimmy awoke suddenly in a pool
of sweat. His breathing was erratic
and his heart felt like it was about to
burst through his chest. He was totally
unaware of where he was or what he was
doing. He bolted upright and looked
around the room to get his bearings.
He flicked the lamp on the stand beside
the bed to let the light drown out the
darkness in the room. He sat there a
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
moment before realizing he was in the
bedroom of the new apartment that he
and Mary Beth leased together. He felt
like he was having a panic attack, so
he jumped straight up and banged his
head on the low hanging ceiling fan just
above their bed.
“Fuck,” he said as he rushed into
the bathroom. He tapped the light
switch with the free hand not rubbing
his forehead and went to the sink.
Looking into the mirror, he saw just
what he expected to see, himself staring
back with a red mark smack dab in the
center of his forehead. His heart started
to slow down and he began to splash
some ice cold water on his face.
He looked around for a towel
and remembered they hadn’t started
unpacking yet, “Dammit!” He looked
back into the mirror, water dripping
from his face, and tried to piece together
the dream he just had. It was so real,
yet he seemed detached from it like he
was watching it through someone else’s
eyes.
“What the hell was that about?”
he said to himself, staring into his eyes
like the mirror version of himself was
simply going to give him an answer.
He doused a few more handfuls of
water in his face before turning off the
faucet, but he didn’t leave the mirror.
He just kept staring at himself waiting
for a conclusion, a reason, something to
hang the dream on.
***
Mary Beth was in the middle of a
silly dream about saving sea lions from
a Japanese whaling fleet when the lights
woke her up and made her rub her eyes.
She felt Jimmy get up and heard him
cuss at something as she rolled over and
looked at the clock; it was three in the
morning.
“What’s wrong, babe?” she asked
while rubbing her eyes. “Are you okay?”
She sat up and put her back
against the headboard stretching her
hands toward the sky and twisting
them like a contortionist. Her mouth
opened in a drawn out yawn making
an yyyoooouuuuaaagghh sound. She
closed her mouth and brought her
hands to her face. Her long dirty blond
SuspenseMagazine.com
hair was covering her eyes, so she
pushed it back behind her ears and got
out of bed.
“Bad dream,” he said from the
bathroom, “sorry, baby, go back to bed.
I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Jimmy continued to splash water
on his face and stare at himself in the
mirror trying to calm down.
He said, “Must have been all the
caffeine today.”
Mary Beth felt a chill and noticed
that the bedroom window was open.
After hurrying over to close it, she
walked into the bathroom behind him,
the bare cold tile making her scurry
quickly across it to the green shag
rug in front of the vanity. She put her
arms around Jimmy’s bare chest and
squeezed. She laid her head against
his back, and could hear his heart
thumping. She pulled her head away
from Jimmy’s toned back. Cold sweat
coated his body, and she got onto her
tiptoes and looked over his shoulder
into the mirror at his face.
“Are you sure you’re ok, Jimmy?
I have never seen you this frazzled
before. I mean you look like you saw a
ghost.” She said still holding him from
behind her fingers clenched tightly over
his firm chest determined to never let
go.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just had a bad
dream that’s all,” he said turning around
to face her putting his arms around her
waist, “just a very bad dream.”
They both stood there for a while
arms around each other, her head on his
chest. She felt warm and he could feel
her squeezing her body as close to him
as she could get, then they slowly pulled
back and looked into each other’s eyes.
“I love you, Jimmy.” Mary Beth said.
“I know, baby,” Jimmy said rubbing
his hands down the small of her back, “I
love you, too.”
He did love her, too, more than
anything or anyone he had ever
known before. They stayed there in
the bathroom of their one bedroom
apartment holding each other for a few
more minutes before going back to bed.
3
He was lying in bed staring up at
the ceiling fan he tried to brain
himself on earlier that morning when
the alarm went off. Beep! Beep! Beep!
Mary Beth rolled over him to slam her
hand down on the snooze button with a
look of desperation in her eyes.
“I hate that noise,” she said, “it’s like
nails on a chalkboard.”
She draped her arm over his bare
chest and laid her head on his shoulder.
He barely moved. She yawned and
rolled her head back while stretching
her arms, making an arch out of her
upper body. Bringing her head back
down a small amount of spit flew from
her mouth and landed on Jimmy’s
shoulder.
“Oops! Sorry, babe,” she said with a
small giggle.
He gave no response as she wiped
the small amount of saliva from his
shoulder. She looked into his face and
asked with a sound of concern in her
voice, “Jimmy, are you all right?”
He didn’t break his gaze from the
ceiling fan. She got up onto her knees
and shook him like she was trying to
break the trance he was in.
“Jimmy!” she said in an alarming
voice.
This time he turned to look at her
blinking his eyes rapidly. They were
blood shot and puffy like he had been
awake crying all night. He still had the
same look on his face from when she
found him in the bathroom earlier that
morning. Like a child who believed
the boogey man was going to grab him
from under the bed when he tried to
sleep. It was a look of fear, but Jimmy
was no child, and there was no boogey
man.
“What’s wrong, Jimmy?” she asked.
“You were in some kind of trance or
something, were you sleeping with
your eyes open?”
He started to rub his eyes. He sat
up and looked at her and said, “I don’t
know I…I…”
“What?” she asked trying not to
sound like she was nagging.
He sat there quietly, his head in his
hands rubbing the goose egg he had
from the battle with the ceiling fan.
45
After what seemed like ten minutes, he
looked at her and said, “That dream was
just too damn real, and I can’t get it out
of my head. I am afraid to fall asleep.”
She put her hand on his shoulder
comfortingly and he leaned in closer to
her.
“It was just so real, it’s like I was
there watching everything unfold
through someone else’s eyes,” he said
leaning back to look at her. “Does this
sound like I am going crazy?”
“It sounds like you are having bad
dreams, Jimmy, that’s all. I think you
just need some good old fashioned
sleep. You haven’t slept a full night in
three days, and you look like you are
stressed out of your mind.” She said
tilting her head slightly sideways,
“Maybe you should go see Dr. West and
ask him what he thinks. Hell, maybe he
can give you some pills to help you get
some sleep.”
“I just saw him last week, babe,
after I had that run in with that stray
cat, he gave me a full work up and said
everything was fine.” Jimmy said.
Mary Beth looked at him with a
silly grin and started to shake her head.
“Hypochondriac,” she said with a
giggle.
Jimmy looked at her and gave her
a faint smile, then leaned in and kissed
her.
“You’re probably right, babe,” he
said, “I’ll give him a call after I get out
of the shower.”
“Mind if I join you?” she asked with
a wicked grin on her face.
This time Jimmy’s lips parted into
a large smile. He looked at her up and
down, and even in his old Simpsons
t-shirt she was sexy. She was still on her
knees beside him and had the blankets
pulled up to her waist. He pulled the
blankets down to reveal her bare tan
legs, and moved his hand down onto
her thigh and looked into her eyes.
“If you think you can handle it,” he
said, knowing exactly what she had on
her mind.
4
He could smell fresh cut grass
as he pulled away from the job
site later that afternoon. It was a warm
46
spring day and the sun was high in
the sky. Jimmy had his hand out of the
window of his truck feeling the warm
air flow past his fingertips. He could
hear birds singing and it made him
smile. All was peaceful in the world
right now.
All was quiet until Ryan started to
speak from the back seat of Jimmy’s
extended cab pickup truck.
“Hey, dumbass, you’re about to
pass Micky Dees,” he said leaning up
between the seats.
Ryan broke the spell that the spring
day had on him and he flicked his
blinker on.
“What’s your deal today?” Joe said
sitting in the passenger seat beside him,
“You been acting strange all damn day.”
He got to work early that day and
was unusually quiet all morning. The
only times he spoke was when he was
calling out measurements to Joe for
cutting studs. This was their third day
on the new housing project, and they
were contracted to build the next five
homes by the end of July.
“I have a lot on my mind today,”
Jimmy said without elaborating.
He pulled into the parking lot
and found a space near the front right
between a cable service truck and a
small compact car about the size of a
power wheel. He parked the big diesel
and they all hopped out and made their
way towards the doors.
“So what the fuck is the matter?”
Joe said in a matter of fact tone that
reminded Jimmy of when he was
younger and his father would ask him
“what are ya stupid?” when he got
caught doing something foolish.
“Nothing. I just been having these
fucked up dreams lately,” Jimmy said
without turning to look at either of
them.
He could feel them staring at him
as he reached for the door and pulled
it open.
5
Jimmy sat near the window as he
always did. He liked to gaze at
the outdoor landscape when he ate his
lunch, which made eating a drawn out
process that the guys always ribbed him
about.
“Hey wake up, Jimmy poo!” Ryan
said with a broad smile, “we only have
twenty minutes before we gotta be back,
so hurry it up!”
Jimmy looked at him with wide
eyes and gave him the finger. They both
started laughing as Jimmy started to
finish off his fries. Joe was laughing,
too. Joe was forty, so he was a bit older
than Ryan and Jimmy who were still in
their late twenties, but he still enjoyed
laughing at the antics of his buddies.
“Kids, kids, come on now!” Joe said
with a smile forming beneath his heavy
beard.
At this point, Jimmy turned to
the small flat screen mounted in the
corner in the opposite direction of the
window. The news was on and he could
see a news reporter standing in front of
an ambulance, but the most interesting
thing was the house he could see behind
it all. Jimmy stood up and walked
closer to the television. He recognized
this house from somewhere. He had
seen it before, but where. The closed
captioning was turned on so everyone
could read the broadcast and popping
up on the bottom of the screen in
block letters was something that made
Jimmy’s skin crawl.
A gruesome scene was discovered
in the early morning hours today inside
of this home in Randolph County. Just
after 8:00 a.m. the body of a yet to be
identified young woman was discovered
after police were called by a concerned
coworker. The coworker called the police
after several failed attempts to contact
the victim. Police say that the murder
happened somewhere between two and
four a.m. this morning and they have
yet to turn up any leads. If anyone has
any information regarding this horrific
crime, we urge you to contact the
Randolph County Sheriff ’s office.
“That’s it,” Jimmy said in a barely
audible voice.
“That’s what?” Joe asked.
Joe and Ryan came over to where
Jimmy was now standing staring up
at the flat screen. They could see he
was shaking like he was on the verge
of a seizure. He had goose pimples
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
everywhere, and he had sweat pouring
down his face.
“That’s my dream,” Jimmy said in a
horrified voice, “that’s what my dream
was!”
Ryan grabbed Jimmy by the
shoulders and dragged him from the
lobby outside into the bright sunshine.
Joe followed close behind them. The
three men stood next to Jimmy’s truck
and remained there quietly, each man
waiting for the other to speak.
Finally Joe spoke up and said,
“What do you mean that was your
dream?”
“I mean that’s what I saw in my
dream. I was going into that house
and I had a knife...and I…I killed her,”
Jimmy said putting his hands up to his
eyes and starting to cry.
“Come on now, man, it was only a
fuckin dream,” Ryan said in a reassuring
tone. “I have crazy dreams all the time.
Did I ever tell about the one where I
was a General in the Canadian army
and we were invading the U.S.?”
Joe and Ryan both started to chuckle
as Jimmy took his hands away from his
eyes and looked at them. His eyes were
red and full of tears, and he had the
look of pain and suffering. He turned
away from the two men and opened the
door of the truck and jumped inside.
The engine started as Joe and Ryan ran
around to hop in before Jimmy took off.
“Hold it, man, what the fuck are
you doing!?” Joe said trying to not to
sound condescending.
“I have to tell them...I have to
tell them about my dream,” Jimmy
mumbled.
“What are you going to say? ‘Hi my
name is Jimmy and I had a dream that I
was the one that murdered that fucking
girl last night.’ They probably have a
strait jacket in a desk drawer waiting for
just such an occasion,” Ryan exclaimed
trying to mimic Jimmy’s tone.
“I don’t care. I have to tell them. I
have to!” Jimmy said with a stern voice.
They both just stared at him as he
put the truck in drive and started to
pull out of the McDonalds parking lot.
“This is crazy, Jimmy. It’s just a
dream,” Ryan pleaded one last time.
SuspenseMagazine.com
6
The three men arrived at the
sheriff ’s office at a little past one
o’clock. There was only one car left in
the parking lot and it made Jimmy
wonder if there was anybody here at
all. Jimmy opened the heavy door to
the truck and stepped out and looked
around. Other than the one cruiser
and a couple of birds bouncing around
the corner of the lot, the place looked
deserted. The station was right off the
side of the interstate and about a half
a mile from the main road. Beside the
station stood a tall transmission tower
that was probably obsolete in a time
with cellular phones.
“Do you think there is anybody
here?” Ryan asked still in the back seat.
Jimmy didn’t answer; instead he
closed his door and started walking
toward the only door that he saw. There
was an intercom beside the door and a
sign that said “In case of emergencies
call 911.” He pressed the button not
expecting any kind of response.
“Can I help you?” the voice said.
It sounded like a voice coming out
of a drive thru speaker when you were
trying to order a cheeseburger.
“I have some information on a…
murder,” Jimmy said, swallowing hard
and finding his mouth as dry as a desert.
“Call the hotline number if you
have any information please,” said the
voice.
“Look, I don’t want to call a fucking
hotline. I have some information and
you need to hear it right now!” Jimmy
said with a passion that surprised all
three of them.
There was no response to this and
the three men just stood there looking
at each other. Jimmy reached for the
button again and the door opened with
a bang and standing there looking back
at them was a burly man with broad
shoulders, and a receding hairline
that could be seen even with his high
and tight haircut. He wasn’t more than
Joe’s age and his name was Sgt. Hayes,
according to his name badge.
“Look, all I can do is have you
come in and fill out a report, there isn’t
anybody else here to question you,” said
Sgt. Hayes.
“You can’t question me?” Jimmy
asked.
“That all depends on what you
know, son.”
Sgt. Hayes escorted them inside
down a long hallway and into a waiting
area. It wasn’t anything extravagant;
just a few wooden chairs in a small
room. He handed Jimmy a clipboard
with a questionnaire on it. There were
three pages total, all stapled together at
the top corner, and the first page was
all for his contact information. The
remaining two pages, which he filled
up completely, were for his statement.
He left out nothing from his vivid
dream. He described every little detail
he could remember, down to what he
was wearing.
At right about the time Jimmy was
finishing up his statement, another
sheriff deputy came into the door
and looked at the three men. They
exchanged glances as he walked past
them into the back carrying a box of
what looked like clear plastic Ziploc
bags, only they were much bigger.
Jimmy reread his statement three
or four times before he was satisfied
and walked up to the counter to talk to
Sgt. Hayes again.
“This is everything I remember,” he
said.
“Ok, thank you, son. We will have
a look at this and someone will contact
you if further information is needed,”
said Sgt. Hayes.
“Was that man part of the
investigation team?” Jimmy asked.
“Yeah, he is just checking in the
evidence from the scene,” Sgt. Hayes
answered. “Why, do want to talk to
him, too?”
This time Sgt. Hayes kind of
chuckled, but Jimmy remained serious.
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I think
what I saw could help, and since he
knows more about the crime than you
do, I think that what I know would be
best heard by him.”
7
Jimmy sat across the table from
Sgt. Tomlin with a digital audio
recorder on the table between them.
47
Tomlin had Jimmy’s statement in front
of him scanning what was on the three
pages.
He looked up at Jimmy and smiled
and said, “This seems like you were
right there, huh?”
“I woke up at 6:00 this morning
having a panic attack after that dream;
I still can’t believe how real it was. Then
I saw the news story and…well, here I
am,” Jimmy said.
“Well, there was a fair amount of
evidence at the scene and I am pretty
sure it won’t take too long to find our
man.”
“Do you have any suspects?”
“Nothing I can disclose to you I’m
afraid, but we have a few leads.”
Sgt. Tomlin was talking to Jimmy
in a tone that made him think of when
he was a kid and he would tell his father
how he was going to be an astronaut,
and his father would pat his head and
say you can be anything you want. The
guy was humoring him, and Jimmy
wasn’t in the mood to be humored.
“Can’t you tell me anything?”
Jimmy asked with a bit of desperation
and anger in his voice.
“Well, we have finger prints, and
some boot prints left in the entry way,
but we weren’t able to locate the weapon
used. That’s all I can say to you, son.”
This time Sgt. Tomlin gave Jimmy
a stern look and moved his statement
to the side and leaned forward putting
his elbows on the table. Sgt. Tomlin
seemed to be looking right through
Jimmy at this point.
“Can you at least tell me if it was a
knife?” Jimmy asked.
“Yes, son, a knife was used, but as
to the type that’s almost impossible
to tell,” said the Sgt. “Real murder
investigations don’t work the same way
they do on CSI.”
Jimmy started thinking about the
look of the knife in his dream. He knew
the knife from the dream very well, it
was a buck knife with a six-inch blade
and a buck engraved in the side of it. It
was his knife. He got it as a gift from his
father when he was seventeen, and had
used it on many occasions, on many
48
hunting trips.
“What kind of boot prints? Were
they work boots?” Jimmy asked his eyes
bugged out of their sockets.
“Yes, actually judging by the
imprint they are a brand called…”
His voice trailed off as he pulled
a file folder over and opened it and
began to look at his paperwork, and
Jimmy looked down at his work boots.
They were Caterpillar Gladstones, and
Jimmy started to get very, very nervous.
“Caterpillar Gladstones judging
by the print left behind. They are a
very common type of boot though I’m
afraid, and it hasn’t been much help
as of yet,” Sgt. Tomlin said looking up
from his paperwork to see Jimmy.
Jimmy had started to sweat and
shiver at this point.
Sgt. Tomlin looked at him
concerned and asked finally, “Are you
all right, son?”
Jimmy sat there barely hearing
what the sergeant had just said and at
that moment he realized why his dream
seemed so vivid, so real….
“It was me.”
8
“I’m sorry, son, can you repeat
that?” the Sgt. asked.
“I said it was me! It wasn’t a dream!
I was there! It was my knife and I used it
to murder that girl!” Jimmy said almost
screaming.
Sgt. Tomlin looked back at his
paperwork again and then back up at
Jimmy, who was now starting to sob
uncontrollably.
“And what makes you think that,
son?”
Wiping tears from his face and
trying to hold back the quiver in his
voice, Jimmy said, “The reason I know
what happened so vividly is because I
was there. I was the one who left the
boot prints. I was the one who…who
killed her.”
Jimmy pulled his knife from the
inside of his boot to show to the Sgt.
He always kept it there. Always be
prepared, that’s the Boy Scout motto, he
was thinking when Sgt. Tomlin looked
up at him shaking his head.
“I find it very commendable that
you are willing to confess to the crime,
son, but I doubt you had anything to do
with it,” he said.
Jimmy continued to wipe the tears,
which were flowing like faucet by now,
from his face.
“What!” Jimmy exclaimed, “Why
do you think that?”
Sgt. Tomlin looked at the report
and his own paperwork and slid two
pieces of paper over to Jimmy.
“If you look at your report and
mine you will see that first of all your
description of the victim isn’t even
close to the actual victim. I also see
your knife there on the table, but the
wounds on the victim were made with a
double sided blade, more like a dagger.
Your knife could not have made the
wounds.” Sgt. Tomlin cleared his throat,
“Lastly it says here that you went to bed
with your fiancé between midnight and
one a.m., is that correct?”
“Yeess, it is,” Jimmy said with a
quiver in his voice.
“And you remember waking up at,”
there was a pause as he shuffled through
the papers once again, “three a.m. from
this nightmare?”
“Yes,” Jimmy said.
“Well, the coroner said that the
time of death came between two and
four this morning, so unless you are
also a time traveler, I don’t think you
are the suspect we are looking for, son.”
Jimmy looked at the Sgt. in disbelief
and could see him start to grin. He felt
one spread across his own face as well,
and a great sense of relief crept into his
mind. He started to cry once again, but
this time they were tears of joy instead
of anguish.
“So I guess it was just…just a
fucking nightmare.” Jimmy laughed
again.
The Sgt. looked at him again as he
gathered all the paperwork back into
his folder, and started to shake his head.
“I am glad you are relieved, son.
Now get the hell out of here. I have a
murder to solve.” ■
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Books are forever, too.
b
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adge
"Though many editors have a talent for either story structure or continuity and line
editing...Ms. Rodgers excelled at all these tasks. I was extremely impressed with her
energy and enthusiasm for the work, her timely delivery, and her eye for details..."
~ RITA finalist and bestselling author Colleen Thompson Rabid Badger
Editing
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America's Favorite
Suspense Authors
On the Rules of Fiction
Never Mind the @#$%&! Backstory
By Anthony J. Franze
In this series, author Anthony J. Franze interviews other suspense writers about their views
on “the rules” of fiction. For the past few months, Anthony has profiled authors who taught at
CraftFest, the International Thriller Writers’ writing school held every July during the organization’s annual ThrillerFest conference. In this final CraftFest segment, Anthony discusses the
perils of “backstory” with several CraftFest teachers, including James Bruno, Lincoln Child,
Karen Dionne, J.T. Ellison, Jamie Freveletti, Andrew Kaplan, Douglas Preston, and Alexandra
Sokoloff.
“Never mind the f**king backstory!” That’s what award-winning author Alexandra Sokoloff
said when I asked her and other teachers at this year’s CraftFest about their best advice for newer
writers. “For some reason newer writers think they have to tell the whole backstory in the first
ten pages.” But that’s just wrong, Sokoloff said. And she was not alone. Writer after writer
who taught at CraftFest identified “too much backstory” as the main problem they see in
the work of aspiring scribes.
So what is backstory? Why do so many newer writers
misuse it? And, more important, what’s the fix? Fortunately,
the CraftFest teachers—some of the most acclaimed authors in
suspense—had some answers.
What is Backstory?
Merriam-Webster’s defines backstory as “a story that tells what led up to the main story.”
Karen Dionne, the author of “Boiling Point” who’s written about backstory for Writer’s Digest,
had a more precise definition: “ ‘Backstory’ refers to the characters’ history and other story
elements that underlie the situation at the start of the book. Backstory helps to establish the
50
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
setting and makes the reader care about what happens to the characters.”
So what’s wrong with that? Dionne said that answering readers’ questions too early and too easily in the opening pages
takes away a large part of the incentive for them to keep reading. Further, “by definition, backstory takes the story backwards.
Whether we employ flashbacks, character musings and recollections, or long passages of exposition to reveal what came
before, every instance of backstory stops our novel’s forward momentum.”
Why Do Newer Writers So Often Misuse Backstory?
Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, the #1 New York Times bestselling “dynamic duo” (see
Suspense Magazine, Jan. 2013, Vol. 042), said, “The problem we see again and again is that newer
writers confuse backstory with character. In other words, instead of developing a character by
showing us how he or she reacts, talks, does things, and relates to other people, the writer develops
character by giving us the character’s backstory.” Preston and
Child explained that “character in a novel comes out
through speech, action, thought, dress, and habit. The fact
that a character is a recovering alcoholic with authority
issues who lost his parents as a child in a boating accident,
for example, tells us nothing about the person himself.”
Jamie Freveletti, the international bestselling author of
“Dead Asleep,” identified a more fundamental reason for the
backstory problem: “The normal progression when one tells a story is to begin from the
beginning, which means that a writer is hardwired to start with backstory.”
So What’s the Fix?
Knowing the causes of the backstory problem helps identify some solutions. For
instance, since writers often misuse backstory as a way to develop their characters, Preston and Child suggest focusing on
who the character is in the present action. “How does the character talk? Look like? React? Dress? What kind of music does
the character listen to? How does the person eat? Does the character have any tics or eccentric personal habits? Any physical
or speech peculiarities? How does the person actually react in various situations of frustration, danger, success, failure, love,
anger? Make a list, even of things that aren’t going to appear in the book. You have to make your character so real that he or
she seems even more real to you than actual people you know.”
Karen Dionne added that writers should examine their opening pages with a critical eye and ask: “Does the reader
really need to know this fact about the character? Or is this detail something that I find interesting, but isn’t crucial to the
story? Will the story fall apart if I withhold this information? If your conclusion is yes, the reader absolutely needs to know
a particular detail about the situation or the character, then ask yourself: Does the reader need to know this now, in the
opening pages? Or can I reveal it later, after the reader is more engaged with the characters and has fully invested in the story?
Is there a better way to introduce this crucial bit of backstory aside from simply relating it? Can I accomplish the same thing
more subtly by using hints and innuendos, thus allowing the reader to use their imagination to fill in the gaps and participate
more fully in the story?”
Another source of the backstory problem is the writer’s urge to start the story from the beginning, so another way to
remedy the backstory problem is to focus on timing. “With almost no exceptions, you should
start your book with an actual scene, in which your main character (or villain, if that’s who you
start with) is caught up in action,” Alexandra Sokoloff said. Sokoloff, who taught her famous
“Screenwriting Tricks for Authors” workshop at CraftFest this year, added, “You should put that
scene down on the page as if the reader is watching a movie—or more specifically, caught up in a
movie. The reader should not just be watching the action, but feeling the sweat, smelling the salt
air, feeling the roiling of their stomach as they step into whatever unknown. We don’t need
to know who this person is, yet. Let them keep secrets. Make the reader wonder—curiosity
is a big hook. What we need to do is get inside the character’s skin.”
J.T. Ellison, the bestselling author of nine critically acclaimed novels, also emphasized
timing. “Don’t interrupt your action, dialogue, or narrative to give an aside. Wait until the
scene is finished, or allow the dialogue to build suspense with hints at what came before.
And try to stay away from large segments of flashback in the middle of scenes. It slows
SuspenseMagazine.com
51
down the action and confuses the reader. When used properly, it builds suspense and tension, and gives the reader just
enough information to bring them into the story. Much better than dumping it all on them at once.”
Jamie Freveletti developed a helpful two-step solution that addresses both the character and timing problems that can
lead to the misuse of backstory. First, she said, “come up with a great first line or two and remember that it doesn’t have to
start at the beginning. In fact, deliberately start at the middle of the action, when something has already occurred. Here’s
an example from a recent book I’ve been reading [“Silent in the Grave” by Deanna Raybourn]: To say that I met Nicholas
Brisbane over my husband’s dead body is not entirely accurate. Edward, it should be noted, was still twitching upon the floor.
In these first few lines, you can see that the protagonist’s speech is formal, almost archaic and you’d guess that either the
protagonist was highly educated or that the book was not set in present day.”
“Second, once you get the first line down, continue throwing in hints about the character, but deliberately make them
unrelated to the natural progression of the story. For example: A few lines down, same page: I leaned as close to him as my
corset would permit. This line tells a lot about the character. She’s definitely not present day as corsets are archaic, and she’s not
too upset about her husband writhing on the floor. You wonder just how bad is this marriage that she’s leaning over politely
while her husband is dying?”
Let’s Not Forget Backstory’s Ugly Cousin (Too Many
Details)
Closely related to the backstory problem is the recurring issue of “too much narrative, too
little dialogue and action,” said James Bruno, the bestselling author of “Havana Queen.” His
advice? “Drop the project for a while, put some distance between writer and manuscript. Use
that time to read the masters in one’s genre. And I don’t merely mean reading, but scrutinizing
every chapter and every important scene. Analyze carefully how the author builds tension until
it explodes.”
Andrew Kaplan, the New York Times bestselling author of the
Scorpion spy thriller series, including “Scorpion Deception,” also sees
too much “overwriting. Telling me much more than I need to know about
a character, his or her history, motivation, what he or she is wearing, the
setting; using fifty words where ten will do. Typically accompanied by
overdoing (and an over-reliance on) adjectives, adverbs, metaphors and
similes.”
Kaplan gave this example of overwriting: Handsome deadly Jack Slater stared bullets at the man in
the grey striped Armani suit and French shirt tailored to a tee, wearing a gold Rolex and an attitude to
match as he stood by the potted Ficus in the luxurious overstuffed marble lobby of the Peninsula Hotel
whom he had come to kill.
“You could easily lose 40 words in that sentence: Slater stared at the man in the hotel lobby he had
come to kill.” Kaplan’s fix for the too-many-details problem works well for backstory too: “Try to imagine that your
reader knows something about the story. You don’t have to tell everything. In addition, assume that he or she is as smart,
knowledgeable, and sophisticated as you are.”
Not all backstory is bad, of course. But given that so many established authors identified backstory as a recurring problem
they see in manuscripts, newer writers would be well advised to isolate all instances of backstory in their opening pages and
consider cutting them. As Karen Dionne suggests, “When in doubt, take it out.” ■
*Anthony J. Franze is the author of the debut legal thriller, “The Last Justice.” In addition to his writing, Anthony is a lawyer in
the Appellate and Supreme Court practice of a major Washington, D.C. law firm and an adjunct professor of law. Anthony is
active in the International Thriller Writers association where he Co-Chairs ITW’s Debut Authors Program, teaches at CraftFest,
and is the Assistant Managing Editor of the Big Thrill magazine. Anthony lives in the D.C. area with his wife and three children.
Learn more about Anthony at http://www.anthonyfranzebooks.com.
Montage Press Photo Credit: Michael Palmer (St. Martin’s Press), Tess Gerritsen (www.tessgerritsen.com), John Gilstrap (Kensington Publishing),
John Lescroart (provided by author), Catherine Coulter (provided by author’s representative), Richard North Patterson (Miranda Lewis), Anthony J.
Franze (provided by author). Author Images (in order): Alexandra Sokoloff (Lawrence Smith), Karen Dionne (provided by author), Douglas Preston
and Lincoln Child (provided by authors), Jamie Freveletti (provided by author), J.T. Ellison (provided by author), James Bruno (provided by author)
52
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Hearts Burst Into Fire
Featured Artist
Alex Noreaga
Dares to Dream
Interview by Suspense Magazine
I
ndonesian artist Alex Noreaga’s
portfolio doesn’t appear to be the work
of a relative newbie to the art world, but it is.
Self-taught and employed fulltime in the
IT department of a cellular factory, Alex has
come a long way with his digital art since
his stuttered beginnings in mid-2010. Alex
is candid about the fact that Google and
YouTube have been instrumental teachers in
his desire to be creative and learn more and
we agree that it’s definitely working well for
him. He admits that this so far is just a hobby,
but he’s motivated and has dreams of bigger things—though surprisingly, not
completely in the art world.
When he’s not working or spending time on digital creative outlets, Alex
spends his time with his friends—playing music—or his supportive family.
And we think he put it best when speaking about his life, “we’re just a small
family, living in a small town, even though we’re not that rich I am very content
in what God gave to me because he gave me a happy family…we’re always there
and willing to comfort each other.”
We hope you enjoy this month’s featured artist.
Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): When did you first realize you had a passion
for art?
Alex Noreaga (A.N.): Maybe about a year ago. I started manipulating photos in
mid-2010, but after few months, I gave up trying, and I learned about 3-D stuff
and video editing. I kind of like it, but I wanted to be more flexible in digital arts,
so I was back to manipulating photos in mid-2012.
S. MAG.: Of all your amazing pieces, which is your favorite and why?
A.N.: I think my favorite one is I Found You. It took me about five days to finish
it, but I was learning to understand more about lighting and hair painting, and I
think it was very helpful for me in my next project.
S. MAG.: If you couldn’t be an artist, what profession would you choose and
why?
A.N.: Entrepreneur, I guess. I’m planning to have my own camera store in the
next couple of years with my friend, and we’re still working on it. S. MAG.: What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever been given? Would
you give that advice to someone starting out or would you offer something
different?
A.N.: My best piece of advice was came from greyscalegorilla.com, though
actually the original post was from creativesomething.net, but I would never read
them if Nick Campbell (greyscalegorrila) hadn’t posted it that day. When I read
a post about “Rules of a Creator’s Life,” it said: “Do more than what you’re told to
do. Try new things. Teach others about what you know. Make work into play and
play into work. Take breaks. Work when others are resting. Always be creating.
Make your own inspiration. Love what you do, or leave.”
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Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
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55
I was kind of inspired by that post, and I thought I needed to try it and start
practicing it in my free time. I don’t have something different to offer, but
would give you the same advice as well.
S. MAG.: Can you describe your process beginning with what it is about
a specific model or background image that spurs your creativity, to the
length of time it takes you to finish a piece from beginning to end?
A.N.: My concept always depends of the model stock; I never
conceptualize anything before I find the model stock. I search, and when
I find something good, the idea or concept just comes at the same time.
The next step is searching for the background stock or any stock that I
need for my concept. S. MAG.: What is your biggest challenge professionally?
A.N.: My biggest challenge is when a client asks me for a commission
piece, but in something I’ve never tried before or not in my style, like
sketching, pixel art, or vectors.
S. MAG.: Money, possibility of fame, or the fun of it? What motivates you?
A.N.: I don’t really expect to make money from my art. I just think I’m not good enough yet, except for the occasional commission.
But I want it to become my part-time job in time and that motivates me to keep creating. S. MAG.: What do you think are your three best pieces? Worst?
A.N.: My best three are I Found You, Waking the Demon, and Walking
Home. Maybe they aren’t the most ‘faved’ of my art, but they mean a lot.
I learned a lot of new things when creating each. And the worst…I could
say I have a lot of those, but I never upload them, I just don’t want to
disappoint anyone who’s following my work.
S. MAG.: Where do you see yourself in five years? Ten?
A.N.: I couldn’t see that far yet, but I think I will stick to digital art for
a very long time.
S. MAG.: Tell us something about your home country that we
wouldn’t find in a travel brochure.
A.N.: I live in Indonesia. Indonesia has a lot of good places to
visit. I can’t even remember how many beautiful places like Bali,
Borobudur Temple, Prambanan Temple, Lombok, Raja Ampat,
Toba Lake, and many more it has to offer. Especially my hometown
in West Borneo, Singkawang City, where the culinary arts are the
best for me. We’d like to thank Alex for spending time with us. To
follow this talented artist as he continues to grow, check out his
DeviantArt page at http://alexnoreaga.deviantart.com. ■
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Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Bad Guy
Boot Camp
By John Gilstrap
Press Photo Credit: Amy Cesal
Good morning, everyone. Welcome to Bad
Guy Boot Camp. Please take your seats so we can get started. Yes, it’s good to
see you, too, Dr. Lecter. What’s that? Oh, no thanks. While your snack looks delicious, I’m
still full from breakfast.
Um, Mr. Morgan? Dexter? Please don’t sit so close to Dr. Lecter. Okay, I’m pleased
that you’d like to get to know him better, but you can do that after the session. The lounge
downstairs has a very nice wine list. I recommend the Chianti. Let’s get right to it, shall we? I think I speak for all of us when I say that I’m sick and tired
of the good guys getting all the credit in fiction. Without us, all those stories would be pretty
darned boring and I think that...
Um, Mr. Dolarhyde, please turn off the camera. We don’t allow filming of these sessions,
and I believe you know why. Thank you.
As I was saying, I think it’s about time that we started taking more pride in our work. For
me, it’s about craftsmanship and respect. For example—and please take no offense—several
of you were taken down by a quadriplegic detective. I mean, really. That’s embarrassing. Yes,
we all know that it’s the hot chick doing all the leg work (no pun intended), but the quad is the headline, and that makes us
all look bad.
Let’s start at the beginning. If you’re going to be a bad guy, be a freaking bad guy. Do your crimes, get them over with, and
quit making it so easy for the good guys. If we frustrate those detectives enough, they’ll quit being so glib.
Let’s start with you serial killers. I know you’re crazy and all, but try to stay focused on the goal here: sexual gratification
through unspeakable mutilation. Everything else is secondary. You’ve got to quit it with the notes and clues. I know that
for some of you, the creative process requires spewing DNA, and I suppose you gotta do what you gotta do, but how about
leaving that as your only direct pathway to arrest? It’s about risk management. In a perfect world, you should keep all your
body juices to yourself—but for heaven’s sake, do without the notes and the videos.
And here’s a suggestion for everyone: Stay out of Miami, Vegas, and New York. They’ve got CSI teams there that are
unlike any I’ve ever seen. As some of you know all too well, they’ve got a hundred percent catch ratio, and the average time
from incident to arrest is only an hour. Really, an hour. I recommend keeping to the heartland, where all the local police are
incompetent and depend exclusively on the FBI or on passing private investigators to get anything done.
Any questions? Okay, great.
Let’s move on to marksmanship and gunplay. Folks, as a group, we really need to sign up for some NRA courses to
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57
learn how to shoot. I notice a trend developing in which you’re very accurate at the beginning of your crime spree, but then
something happens once the star sleuths get involved. Folks, you’ve got to settle down and shoot straight. When you whiff
the shot and hit within inches of your target—and we do that a lot—we end up alerting the good guys to our presence, and
we lose our advantage.
Look, the odds are already stacked against us as it is. The good guys are on the opposite talent trajectory from us. They
tend to whiff their shots the first time we run into them, but then get better toward the end of our relationship. Many of them
have weapons that never need reloading, cell phones that operate everywhere, all the time, and an uncanny ability to fight on
even while critically wounded. We need to close the deal on these folks the first time we see them.
Here’s the key: When in doubt, shoot. If the moment comes when you’re muzzle to muzzle with the good guy, don’t
negotiate, shoot. Why do you care if he drops his gun? You’re a bad guy. Act like one. Just pop him. Same goes when you have
the good guy captured and immobilized. Why are you tying him up to begin with?
Sorry, Dexter, that doesn’t apply to you. But, unlike most of the others in the room, you put the ropes and knots to good
use. The rest of you use that opportunity to chat. For crying out loud, quit doing that! Let the SOB go to his grave wondering
why you’re doing what you’re doing. That can all be part of the torture.
Yes, Dr. Moriarty, you have a question?
Actually, I’m not sure I agree that murders have become less civilized over the years. You should bring that up with Lizzie
Borden during her lunchtime keynote this afternoon.... ■
To learn more about New York Times bestselling author, John Gilstrap, and his popular Jonathan Graves thrillers, visit his
website at http://johngilstrap.com.
HIGH TREASON
By John Gilstrap
When you pick up a John Gilstrap novel one thing is always true, you are going to be entertained at a
high rate of speed.
John’s latest book, “High Treason” starts off not with a bang but with an explosion. In true Gilstrap
form, the reader is instantly immersed in action that doesn’t stop until the last word. When the First Lady of
the United States, Anna Darmond is kidnapped, the tension begins to build when it looks more and more
like an inside job.
Jonathan Grave is then thrust into an impossible situation having to know who he can trust and how
high up the crime link goes. This is the fifth book in the Jonathan Grave series and very possibly the best.
Putting John Gilstrap’s “High Treason” on your reading list is a must for every thriller fan. Reviewed by John Raab for Suspense Magazine ■
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Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Reavis
Wortham
Tells Us why it’s good to be on
“The Right Side of Wrong”
Interview by Suspense Magazine
Press Photo Credit: Provided by Author
ward-winning author Reavis Z. Wortham is the
author of several novels, including “The Rock
Hole.” He got his inspiration for that book,
published in 2011, from his time hunting and fishing the river
bottoms near Chicota, Texas.
But before he blessed his readers and fans with his words,
he obtained a degree in Industry and Technology from East
Texas State University (now Texas A&M, Commerce). Later, he
received a Masters in Education from ETSU. He spent ten years
teaching before taking a job as communications specialist for
a school district and retired as Director of Communications in
2011.
He has written “Doreen’s 24 HR Eat Gas Now Café,” “The
Rock Hole,” “Burrows,” and “The Right Side of Wrong.” The
latter three books comprise the Red River Mystery series.
Besides novels, Reavis is a regular contributor for Texas Fish
and Game Magazine, where he writes on everything from
fishing to deer hunting. His work can be found also appeared
in American Cowboy and Texas Sporting Journal. From 1988
and on, Reavis wrote a self-syndicated weekly column for
several Texas newspapers, and he has extensively published his
photography.
He is a member of Mystery Writers of America and the
Writers’ League of Texas.
“The Right Side of Wrong” was released July 2013 and
it encompasses “Burrows” and “The Rock Hole.” Here is
some information:
“Burrows” ended as 1965 drew to
a close with Constable Cody Parker’s
frightening precognition of gathering storm
clouds for the tight-knit Parker family from
Center Springs, Texas. The dreams proved
A
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accurate. Cody is ambushed and nearly killed
on a lonely country road during an unusually
heavy snowfall. With that attack, the locals
begin to worry that The Skinner, from “The
Rock Hole,” has returned.
Constable Ned Parker struggles to connect
a seemingly unrelated series of murders as
his nephew recovers. As the summer of 1966
approaches, rock and roll evolves to reflect
the increasing unrest in this country, and
the people of northeast Texas wonder why
their once peaceful community has suddenly
become a dangerous place to live.
Ned’s pre-teen grandchildren, Top and
Pepper, are underfoot at every turn. The
two lawmen, along with the deputy John
Washington, cross paths with many colorful
characters originally introduced in Wortham’s
acclaimed Red River Mystery series: cranky
old Judge O.C. Rains, the jittery little farmer
Isaac Reader, and the Wilson boys Ty Cobb
and Jimmy Foxx.
And then there’s the arrival of the
mysterious tough old man named Tom Bell.
When Cody follows his main suspect
across the Rio Grande and into Mexico, Ned
understands that to save his nephew, he will
have to cross more than a river, he will have
to cross over to the Right Side of Wrong.
We were able to get to the “red-river bottom” of things
with the following interview:
Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): “The Right Side of Wrong” is
your third book in your Red River Mystery series. What can
you tell us about it that is not on the back cover?
town full of good folks, the evil gang that moves in to literally
eliminate all criminal competition to set up their own business,
and the final desert/jailbreak/high noon shootout.
Maybe I do write mystery historical westerns…
S. MAG.: “The Right Side of Wrong” brings us many more
characters than your previous two books. Is this trend
something we can expect from you in the future?
R.W.: That’s a question I honestly can’t answer. Unlike many
other successful authors, I can’t outline a manuscript to save
my life. They begin with an idea, usually an opening chapter
or the final climactic ending, and go from there. Once the
characters begin to form, the entire cast of characters leads me
through the story and I’m simply along for the ride.
Honestly, for me it’s like you’re writing the story on your
computer at home, and the words are coming up on the screen
here at my desk. This doesn’t mean I don’t have control, I’m
simply surprised by what appears. I once read that Robert
E. Howard, the creator of Conan the Barbarian, said Conan
appeared over his shoulder and dictated his adventures to him.
I don’t see the Parker clan in my office, but their character traits
and the time period dictates what happens next, including
dialogue.
But back to your original questions, my first novel, “The Rock
Hole” had so many characters flowing through the story that I
had to create a list of names with characteristics. That list grew
longer with the second book, and now it is extensive. Some
folks are related, others are simply friends. The whole list looks
like something from Ancestry.com.
S. MAG.: For fans who are just finding out about your Red
River Mystery series, can they start with “The Right Side of
Reavis Wortham (R.W.): I had to look at
the back cover to answer your question,
and what I found were many head-swelling
reviews of my previous two novels in the Red
River Mystery series, “The Rock Hole” and
“Burrows.” The blurb from bestselling author
Jamie Freveletti is interesting, because she
calls “The Right Side of Wrong” “a gritty, dark,
and suspenseful western.”
This series is set in northeast Texas, along the
Red River, in the mid-1960s, and though I see
it as a historical, coming of age mystery thriller
(how’s that for throwing in a multitude of
genres?), I can understand that it’s something
of a western. There’s the law (Constable Ned
Parker and Constable Cody Parker), a small
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61
Wrong” or should they go back and start with “The Rock
Hole”?
R.W.: All three novels are essentially standalone works, but
books two and three build on “The Rock Hole.” For example,
quirky Isaac Reader, a farmer in Center Springs, comes alive in
the first novel, but he continues to appear at the oddest times in
the other books and has become a favorite of dedicated readers.
All of the characters are richer in depth as their individual
qualities appear.
In “The Right Side of Wrong,” we’re presented with a deep insight
into the strong character of Miss Becky, Constable Ned Parker’s
wife. Out of the blue, she begins to tell a story about the horrific
death of her mother when Miss Becky was only six years old.
I’m sure her mom’s death impacted her in a number of ways
including her strong character, love for Ned and her family, and
deep faith. I believe we’ll see it as the series progresses.
We’re watching near-twin cousins, Top and Pepper, grow up in
these books. Ten-years-old in “The Rock Hole,” they are now
twelve in “The Right Side of Wrong.” Top is starting to grow out
of his little boy awkwardness, while foul-mouthed Pepper will
soon face the issues of puberty. Both kids are dealing with the
psychological issues of their trauma in “The Rock Hole.” I can’t
wait to see what Pepper gets into next.
Now, should readers go back to “The Rock Hole” and work
their way through the series? Of course they should. Buy them
all, right now!
The tension mounts as other people in the tiny community
are murdered. The Skinner is random, not really following a
pattern at all. A young black child is found dead, and soon
after, an adult. But the two children in the original ad, a boy
and girl, haven’t been fulfilled.
I’ll stop with that, because I don’t want to give anything away,
but I thought I knew who The Skinner was. Sounds silly, I know,
but frankly, I thought he was someone else. I was writing the
scene when one of my characters opens his eyes and recognized
his captor, I was as stunned as any reader. At that part, I raised
my hands from the keyboard.
“Wow!”
My wife came into my office at the shout. “What happened?”
“I just discovered who The Skinner is.”
She looked at me long and hard, probably wondering how she’d
come to marry me. “You idiot, it’s your book. Of course you
know who it is.”
But I didn’t. Other surprises have hit me with the same
lightning bolt. I was stunned by the antagonist’s deep mental
and physical issues in “Burrows.” In “The Right Side of Wrong,”
a new character, Tom Bell, arrives, and he revealed his intent
and identity at the climax, I was as lost as anyone else.
I probably need to discuss this with a shrink.
S. MAG.: What surprises have popped up for you as the
series progressed?
S. MAG.: Why do you think it took you so long to finally
jump into writing books?
R.W.: My most recent surprise was a commendation by the
New York Times in their discussion of Texas writers. It was
exciting to see this series receive recognition from such a
distinguished paper.
R.W.: Simply because I wasn’t any good. I began writing
newspaper columns in 1988, and crafted a voice in the ensuing
years. In the late ’90s, I moved into nonfiction articles for
magazines, and continued to polish my work. I found my voice
during that time, but really didn’t know what to do with it until
one night when I was on a newspaper deadline and couldn’t
come up with an idea.
I discuss one of the biggest surprises when I’m speaking at
signings, or serving on writers’ panels. As I said, the story
develops for me as I sit down at my desk. In “The Rock Hole,”
we know there’s a developing serial killer on the loose in Lamar
County. Back in the mid-1960s, profiling serial killers wasn’t as
sophisticated as it is now. Today, we know they begin by being
destructive, by mutilating and killing animals, then move on
to humans. Constable Ned Parker follows a trail of mutilations
throughout the bottomlands of northeast Texas. Each event is
punctuated with a newspaper clipping of the killer’s next victim.
For example, they find a clipping of a dog, which indicates his
next target. When Ned finds an advertisement for children’s
clothes, he knows the killer has graduated from animals to
people, and he skins them.
62
My high school English teacher, Miss Linda Adams, told us to
simply put words on the paper if we couldn’t think of anything
to write. She said that exercise would lead to results, and she
was right. I wrote, “We’re from up on the river,” a saying I
used to hear from my maternal grandmother. That sentence
led to a dusty pickup truck rattling down a dirt road between
cornfields and parking in the shade of large oak tree. An old,
balding, pot-bellied farmer stepped out of the truck, plucked a
hoe from the bed, and walked into the sweltering corn field to
find the remains of a mutilated dog beside a cold campfire.
Ten pages later, I left my computer and my wife sat down to
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
find I’d left the pages up. She read them and pronounced them
“the best thing you’ve ever written.” Sigh. Then I was committed
to a novel that became “The Rock Hole.”
I dream a lot of these ideas, and wake up to jot them down.
I wonder where those dreams come from, and why they are
there.
S. MAG.: The beginning or the end of a book—which do you
feel has the most impact on the reader, but which is more
difficult to write for the author?
S. MAG.: They say everything in Texas is bigger. Just how
much bigger would that be?
R.W.: They are bookends. A well-written beginning sucks the
reader in and sets the stage for the adventure to come. During
that time, the reader grows to love, or hate, the characters, and
lives the story. But it’s the final pages that bring it all together.
The ending sets the tone for the series, or in the event of the
standalone, it should make the reader want more and wish for
the novel to continue.
R.W.: It is the sweep of the Red River series and the hopefully
large number of books that encompass this series. The first
novel was set in the rural farming town of Center Springs and
critics compared it to “To Kill a Mockingbird.” The second grew
in scope, bringing in a psycho who worked through a number
of states, leaving a trail of bodies behind. It had more horror
than the first, and one reviewer called it “Stephen King meets
Harper Lee.” Hummm.
As I said, I start with an idea, or what once was an unsold
short story for me. In “The Right Side of Wrong,” the ambush
on a snowy rural road was once a tale that held the same
ingredients, but with different characters. “Burrows” began with
a standalone short story that fit perfectly into my idea of The
Cotton Exchange, a building in the middle of a rural farming
town that is packed with the town’s refuse and honeycombed
with tunnels, or burrows, winding through the booby-trapped
garbage. My editor phoned me when she read the first chapter
and said it was the creepiest chapter she’d read in years.
Most recently, “The Right Side of Wrong” encompasses a
significant portion of Texas, crossing two rivers into Oklahoma
and Mexico, bringing different cultures into conflict and
understanding. Book four, “Vengeance Is Mine,” will bring in
a variety of players from Las Vegas, New York, and Chicago.
I think the climactic scene will dwarf anything I’ve already
written, but I haven’t gotten there yet. It’s just a wait and see
right now.
The beginning has to be great, and therefore, I imagine is the
most difficult. When I get to the climax, I’m usually running
full steam with the storyline and actors carry the load for me.
In the manuscript I’m working on now, “Vengeance Is Mine,”
the dark opening chapter was chilling, even to me.
R.W.: More books in the Red River Mystery series. My original
contract called for three books, but we’re already roaring past
that agreement. There may be as many as seven or eight books,
or more, by the time we finish with the Parkers. I have an idea
to write a prequel, set in the 1920s or ’30s, that will tell the
story of when Ned and Miss Becky met, their early lives, and
a sinister “gift” that Ned still won’t talk about it. That story is
already down in a rough form, and it came from a dream that
woke me crying in the middle of the night. I couldn’t explain it
to my wife without weeping, and so she had to read the notes
and wait…for several months, before I could control myself
enough to tell it in its entirety. I feel emotional right now, just
thinking about it.
I think the biggest difficulty regarding the ending is the wait as
I develop the manuscript. I usually have the ending in mind by
the time I’m a quarter of the way through, but except for “The
Right Side of Wrong,” I wait to write the climax. My friend and
bestselling author, John Gilstrap, refers to the novel’s climax as
“the dessert.” When I told him I jumped to the end of “The Right
Side of Wrong” and wrote the ending in a flurry of excitement,
he was aghast. I’ll do it again, though, when the mood once
again takes over.
Here’s the short answer, though. Both the beginning and the end
are easy for me, it’s the middle that sometimes proves difficult.
S. MAG.: If you could solve any mystery for yourself, what
would it be?
R.W.: Why am I writing these kinds of novels. David Morrell,
who created Rambo in “First Blood,” once said that we are all
damaged, and we write about what damaged us. It makes me
wonder.
SuspenseMagazine.com
S. MAG.: What does the future hold for Reavis Wortham?
So I wonder about that one.
Also, I’m working on a new contemporary series, set in the Big
Bend region of Texas. I hope to get that one in the hands of my
agent before Christmas, so I can snow-ski in peace, without the
Parkers and the bad guys getting in my head, and in my way
on the slopes. It’s crowded enough inside my head as it is, and I
don’t want them in the way of a good downhill run.
Reavis is a retired teacher and now resides in Frisco,
Texas. We’d like to thank Reavis for his time. You can find
more information on his work at http://www.reaviszwortham.
com/index.html. ■
63
By Donald Allen Kirch
DR. HENRY HOWARD HOLMES:
AMERICA’S FIRST SERIAL KILLER
I
n the glory months of 1893, the city of Chicago played host to a
World’s Fair that has since become the stuff of legends.
Many innovative things were introduced at the fair: George W.G.
Ferris would amuse millions with his “ride” named the Ferris Wheel,
giving birth to the modern-day amusement park; and Walter M.
Lowney would introduce the world’s first chocolate bar, beating his
competitor Milton Hershey to the punch. The first zipper would amaze
ticket sellers, and unfortunately, the great Chicago’s World’s Fair would
give birth to a unique American crime monster—the serial killer.
Born Herman Webster Mudgett in Gilmanton, New Hampshire on
May 16, 1861, he never really had that much of a chance to become
more than what he had—in fact, it was quite amazing that Mudgett
accomplished anything.
His father was a violent drunk who once beat him near death, and his
mother was a devout Methodist who would force him to sit in front of her while she read him the
Bible. Later, classmates would learn of his fears regarding anything medical, and would force him to touch a
skeleton in their biology class. This episode, more than any other, Mudgett
claimed, is what turned him over to his darker impulses. The joke had
turned on his class bullies. They had brought him to the skeleton hoping to
scare him. Instead, Mudgett became obsessed with anything morbid and
associated with death.
Mudgett went on to profit from his obsessions by graduating from the
University of Michigan Medical School in June 1884, passing his exams
with high points. It was later learned that while as a student, he would
often steal bodies from the morgue, create life insurance policies on the
dead, and make them appear to have died in a horrible accident, and then
collect on the money afterwards. This pattern is notable to remember—it’s
what helped him carry on with his dark work. It was also during this time
that he decided to settle in Chicago. While there, he chose to pursue a
career in pharmaceuticals, engaging in many shady businesses, real estate,
and promotional deals under his new name “H.H. Holmes.”
By chance, in the summer of 1886, Holmes discovered the drugstore
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of Dr. E.S. Holton, on the corner of South Wallace and 63rd Street in Englewood. Holmes discovered that Holton suffered
from cancer and his wife, burdened down by the responsibility of running the business, desperately needed some help.
Holmes showed his credentials and offered himself for employment. The Holtons eagerly accepted, and at first, were not
disappointed. Holmes proved himself to be an excellent and hardworking man.
When Dr. Holton died from his cancer, Mrs. Holton would later sell her store to the enterprising young man. To help the
poor old widow, Holmes agreed to have her live within the store, in one of the upper apartments. Later, she would take up
legal actions against her new landlord, for his failure to pay his agreed installments.
Mrs. Holton would disappear mysteriously. To this day, her body has never been found, nor can her death be connected
in any way to H.H. Holmes.
Holmes purchased an empty lot across the street from his drugstore, and it was there he built what would later be called
his three-story “Murder Castle.” It would be completed for the curious to walk through during the World’s Fair, which was
officially dubbed “The World’s Columbian Exposition of 1893.” The first floor contained the new business space for his
drugstore; the second contained some office space and connected with the third over one hundred complex mazes to rooms.
These were not rooms you would want to rent.
This three-story “Castle,” as it was named by neighbors, had been designed to kill people.
There were windowless rooms which opened up to brick walls, oddly angled hallways, stairways to nowhere, doors
operable only from the outside, and a host of other dangerous devices. As the building was being constructed, to help keep
the mystery of his devices intact, Holmes repeatedly changed construction teams.
During this time, Holmes made contact with a man by the name of Benjamin Pitezel. Pitezel had been trained as a
carpenter, and had a past that was both lawbreaking and cloudy. Holmes exploited this man on almost all his criminal
schemes. A district attorney would later label Pitezel as Holmes’s “tool...his creature.”
After the completion of his “castle,” Holmes chose females fort his employees, and as an added condition of their stay, he
would have them rent a room and sign a life insurance policy making him the beneficiary. He made all his tenants and lovers
do the same.
He tortured and killed them all!
Some were kept in airtight rooms, in which Holmes could pump in natural gas. A customized “peephole” had been
installed allowing him to watch as he slowly suffocated them. Other victims would be locked in a huge bank vault—left there
to starve. Vent holes were placed well above the vault allowing them just enough air to stay alive, but the vault itself was
soundproof. After their deaths, Holmes would place their bodies down a secret chute, where in the basement he would use
chemicals to strip their body of all flesh, selling their skeletons as models to the nearby university. Those deemed “unworthy”
would be cremated on the spot.
Holmes was supreme in his preparations. In his basement, he had constructed two industrial furnaces as well as an acid
pit, bottles of various poisons, and even a stretching rack. Through his connections he had gained in medical school, he sold
skeletons and organs with little difficulty.
Holmes was on top of the world, and loving each macabre adventure. Horrors so bloody that even Edgar Allan Poe
couldn’t conjure up the disgusting bloodbath this man created within the confines of his home.
But as is the way of the world, all things must soon come to an end.
The Chicago World’s Fair came and went....
The flow of innocent young women, tourists, and vagabonds stopped.
With creditors coming after him, and the threat of lawsuit, Holmes left his “Murder Castle” and fled the windy city for
Fort Worth, Texas. There he turned in a claim for some land he had inherited from two railroad heiresses. One of these
women he had promised to marry. He murdered both.
Holmes tried to build yet another home, based on his “murder castle” in Chicago, but that was never completed. The
“legal” atmosphere of Texas proved too strict for Holmes. He abandoned everything, leaving his plans for murder behind.
Traveling throughout the United States and Canada, he ran into his old business associate, Benjamin Pitezel and his three
children.
Holmes would be arrested in July 1894, in St. Louis, Missouri for a horse swindle that had gone wrong. He would promptly
bail himself out, but while in jail, he made contact with a bank robber named Marion Hedgepeth, who was serving a twentyfive-year sentence. Holmes had concocted a $10,000 swindle by faking his own death and collecting the life insurance money.
Holmes promised Hedgepeth a $500 commission if he could name a lawyer on the outside who could be trusted in the
deed. Hedgepeth directed Holmes to a lawyer named Colonel Jeptha Howe, the brother of a public defender, who listened
to Holmes’s plan and considered it brilliant. But all went to ashes after he killed someone, made the body look similar to his,
and the insurance company refused to pay.
As it turned out, the only reason the insurance was not paid was because there had been no sign of grief, nor was a proper
funeral ever planned. It was a business tradition of the time, for the responsible insurance agent, if he could, to attend the
services out of respect for the client’s business while alive. But this was never done, sending up a red flag.
Holmes never pressed the claim; instead, he concocted a similar plan with his business associate Benjamin Pitezel.
It was agreed that Pitezel would set himself up in an apartment in Philadelphia, where he would live under the identity
of B.F. Perry, an inventor. While there, Pitezel would create an explosion that would “kill him.” Holmes would come in with
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65
proof of ownership of his policy and collect the spoils, which would be equally split between him, Pitezel, and their lawyer.
Holmes killed Pitezel instead, using his body in the fake claim.
Somehow, the man convinced Pitezel’s widow that her husband was in hiding, and swindled the woman for custody of
her three youngest children: Alice, Nellie, and Howard. Worried for her husband, Mrs. Pitezel participated in Holmes’s plan.
Holmes traveled throughout the United States and Canada using a variety of aliases and cons, grabbing money from
people when he could. Mrs. Pitezel followed the man on a parallel course, believing in the lie told to her by Holmes that her
dead husband was in hiding in London.
In Detroit, they were at their closest—within a few blocks of each other. Unknown to Mrs. Pitezel, Holmes became
burdened with using her children as a cover. He killed the two daughters, hiding them in the cellar of a Toronto home. A
police detective named Frank P. Geyer, from Philadelphia, followed Holmes the entire length of his journey.
In Indianapolis, Holmes killed the Pitezel’s son, Howard. The boy’s teeth and bits of bone were discovered within a rental
property’s chimney.
As clever as Holmes was, he forgot one simple detail that would prove to be his undoing. He never paid Marion Hedgepeth
his $500 commission. Angered at being cheated, the convicted bank robber told his story to any and all who would listen.
One of those interested parties was the Pinkerton Detective Agency.
H. H. Holmes’s murder spree finally came to an end on November 17, 1894. He was cornered in Boston, and had been
making plans to travel abroad—some say England. Boston police held Holmes on a horse-thievery warrant issued in Texas.
Back in Chicago, curious eyes turned to Holmes’s “Murder Castle.” After the hired custodian informed police that he was
never allowed to clean the upper two floors of the building, an investigation was launched. The World’s Fair, now over with
and over half of the brilliant “White City” burned to the ground, Chicago Police had to explain the strange disappearances
of over one hundred people!
Police discovered the decomposing bodies in the basement of Holmes’s castle.
The number of Holmes’s victims run from an estimated twenty to one hundred, and
some claim that the number could be as high as two hundred! Testimonials claimed that
Holmes’s neighbors saw him on the arms of several attractive young women, who would be
taken into his castle and never be seen again.
Holmes sat in prison and used his well-practiced charm, appealing to the public for
assistance. As with today, the press had a field day with the story. Most of the opinion
favored Holmes—until news came from Chicago. Also, Philadelphia Detective Frank
Geyer had reported, after a long investigative journey, that he had found the remains of
the three Pitezel children.
Shocked and horrified, the press turned on Holmes, sealing his fate.
Holmes would later confess to the murder of the three Pitezel children, and would be
put on trial for his crimes. Following his conviction, he would confess to all of his killings.
Some, later, would be names of living souls of whom he had never met. Was Holmes trying
to “pad” his legend, realizing that his days of profit and adventure were over? Perhaps. The
total number he agreed with was thirty murders overall, with six attempted.
Months before his death, Holmes was paid $7,500 for the story of his life, by the Hearst
newspaper empire. His story was a fantastic mixture of truths and daring fiction. At one
point in the story, he proclaimed his “honest innocence,” stating that he had been possessed by
Satan! Still, with a testimony like his, so full of lies, it is hard to tell what was fact about the man, rummaged in, so to
speak, with all the fiction.
Holmes was hanged on May 7, 1896 at Moyamensing Prison, also known as Philadelphia County Prison. Guards and
inmates stated that right up till the moment of his death, Holmes showed no emotion. He was as calm as Buddha.
Holmes’s neck did not snap at the time of his hanging, making the man twitch for at least fifteen minutes while he slowly
choked to death. He was pronounced dead twenty minutes after the trap door had been sprung. Some would say that his last
sufferings were “just desserts.”
On New Year’s Eve 1909, Marion Hedgepeth, who had been pardoned for testifying against Holmes, was shot and killed
by a police officer, during a holdup at a Chicago saloon. Then on March 7, 1914, the former caretaker of the “Murder Castle”
died. All the terrifying secrets of H.H. Holmes went with him to the grave. Family members claimed that the caretaker’s
conscience had been haunting him.
What causes one man to become a saint and the other a devil? Some say it’s environment. Still others believe that it is
predestined in the genes. I am a believer in both: genes and environment play a vital part of who we are. One other factor has
to be taken into account: man’s ability to KNOW the difference between what is good and what is evil. When all is said and
done, Holmes had a choice not to kill.
It makes one wonder…who do we REALLY live next door to? ■
To learn more about the author and his work go to: www.donaldallenkirch.com
66
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
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Interview by Suspense Magazine
Press Photo Credit: Provided by Author
Jon Land, a bestselling author of over twentyfive novels, likes to share his talents with schoolchildren to help them
learn writing and its processes. Having graduated from high honors
from Brown University, he certainly has the credentials to back him.
Much of his work is based on his longtime vocation in martial arts,
his extensive travel, and the research he does on any given subject. His
past association with U.S. Special Forces certainly doesn’t hurt.
As the vice president of marketing of the International Thriller
Writers, he is often asked to speak on writing and research.
Having his qualifications out the way, we can chat a little about
his novels. He writes the Caitlin Strong series. His latest, “Strong Rain
Falling,” will be released Aug. 13. Here’s a bit about this book and what
you can expect:
Mexico, 1919: The birth of the Mexican drug trade begins
with opium being smuggled across the U.S. border, igniting an
all-out battle with American law enforcement in general and the
Texas Rangers in particular.
The Present: Fifth Generation Texas Ranger Caitlin Strong
and her lover Cort Wesley Masters survive terrifying gun battles.
But this time, it turns out, the actual targets were not them, but
Masters’ teenage sons.
That sets Caitlin and Cort Wesley off on a trail winding through the past and present with nothing less than
the future of the United States hanging in the balance. Along the way, they will confront terrible truths dating
back to the Mexican Revolution and the dogged battle Caitlin’s own grandfather and great-grandfather fought
against the first generation of Mexican drug dealers.
At the heart of the storm soon to sweep away America as we know it, lies a mastermind whose abundant
power is equaled only by her thirst for vengeance. Ana Callas Guajardo, the last surviving member of the family
that founded the Mexican drug trade, has dedicated her vast resources to a plot aimed at the U.S.’s technological
heart.
This time out, sabotage proves to be as deadly a weapon as bombs in a battle Caitlin must
win in cyberspace as well. Her only chance to prevail is to short-circuit a complex plan based as
much on microchips as bullets. Because there’s a strong rain coming and only Caitlin and Cort
Wesley can stop the fall before it’s too late.
We asked Jon to take a breather from his martial-arts-kicking novel writing to answer a few
questions.
Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): What can you tell us about “Strong Rain Falling” that is not on the
back cover?
Jon Land (J.L.): How much time do you have? It starts with the fact that this book actually goes back
to the very birth of the Mexican drug trade and, by connection, the fiendish cartels. How it all started.
68
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Beyond that, there’s a great historical subplot in which Caitlin’s Texas Ranger grandfather and great-grandfather are involved in
the initial efforts to stop drug trafficking. It’s so much fun in this series to tie the past and present together and that theme works
especially well this time out.
S. MAG.: Is “Strong Rain Falling” Caitlin’s most dangerous conflict?
J.L.: Yes, until the next installment anyway! One of the things that makes this book truly special is that, for the first time, the
villain is a woman who’s every bit a match for Caitlin. That, coupled with the historical connection between Caitlin’s family and
the villain’s, and you have conflict that’s extremely personal. And, beyond that, this book features the most dangerous threat to
the United States in the series so far with the villain’s plan being nothing less than putting our country back in the Stone Age from
a technological standpoint. The scary thing being is that Ana Callas Guajardo’s plan is credible and terrifying.
S. MAG.: In “Strong Rain Falling” you bring readers back in time to the start of the Mexican drug trade. Now, nearly a
hundred years later, has anything really changed?
J.L.: For sure, in that it continues to get worse. Mexico is essentially a lawless state, at least in some parts. The cartels wield an
incredible amount of power to the point where it’s been speculated, somewhat by me in “Strong Rain Falling,” that a lot of the
country’s richest people may be involved as investors at the very least. The problem is fundamental in that the cartels have lured
thousands of the country’s top soldiers over to their side by dangling the kind of money they could never see otherwise, to the
point that one of the most powerful cartels, the Zetas, is actually comprised almost exclusively of ex-Mexican Special Ops troops.
S. MAG.: With Caitlin’s lover Cort Masters’s sons being in the crosshairs in “Strong Rain Falling,” is this book one of your
most emotional roller coaster thrillers?
J.L.: So true, and thanks for noticing. Every time I start a book, I ask myself not only what it’s about structurally but also what
it’s about emotionally. One of the greatest things about the Caitlin Strong series is watching the relationship between Caitlin
and Cort Wesley Masters’s two sons, Dylan and Luke, grow stronger. “Strong Rain Falling” opens with Caitlin taking Dylan on a
college visitation trip—it doesn’t get any more parental than that! But for me, that’s represented even more in “Strong Vengeance,”
which just came out in paperback, when a killer who happens to be a pedophile makes it clear he has eyes for Dylan. He does
that strictly to provoke Caitlin. And she knows just what she’s walking into when she shows up to meet him and couldn’t care less.
“Strong Rain Falling” also features a financial crisis of sorts for Cort Wesley. He’s worried about losing his house, how he’s going
to pay for college—to your point, the kind of concerns we don’t ordinarily see in thriller fiction.
S. MAG.: “Strong Rain Falling” is the fifth in the series. How different is Caitlin now?
J.L.: For starters, I think she’s a lot more comfortable in her own skin, in that she’s come to accept who she is. The problem with
that is she remains vulnerable to her own frontier-gunfighter mentality. She doesn’t shy away from violence and some might even
say she embraces it too much. That forms a striking contrast with the feminine and maternal instincts that surface when she’s
around Cort Wesley and his sons. I guess the point I’m kind of suggesting here is that the little things, tasks, we take for granted
in life, like raising kids, are actually a lot harder than chasing bad guys and often killing them.
S. MAG.: “Betrayal” was a non-fiction book about Whitey Bulger and one of Suspense Magazine’s best books of 2012. Do you
have any plans for some nonfiction in the future?
J.L.: I’m actually working on three nonfiction projects right now as we speak. The key for anyone who writes for a living is to be
open to all opportunities and options. Truth be told, I got into nonfiction in large part because it represented another revenue
stream and authors have mortgages, too. But just as important is the fact that I’ve always enjoyed narrative nonfiction of the sort
that Capote invented in “In Cold Blood.” The nonfiction novel, he called it, and never has a better term been coined. The challenge
is that no one is writing these kinds of books anymore.
“Betrayal” was actually a first-person memoir, as is my second work of nonfiction. Another is third person and it’s much more
challenging because I’m trying to tell a story through so many viewpoints. The most interesting thing I’ve learned along the way
is that the similarities in writing nonfiction and fiction are far more striking than the differences. But I’ve found it so interesting
that in fiction, the writer’s job is make their characters sound like real people, while in nonfiction, the writer’s job is to make their
characters sound more like fictional people. Go figure, right?
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69
S. MAG.: When you are doing your final edits in a book, do you find yourself
removing or adding material when you are done reading it?
J.L.: Both, and much of the work proves to be the most vital and effective of any that
occurs during the creative process. For me, first drafts are about getting it down and
getting it done. Each successive draft hones and polishes the material further. I throw
a bunch out, I add a bunch more—sometimes even entirely new characters, subplots,
and scenes if I sense a weakness or flaw.
I’m also blessed with a terrific editor, Natalia Aponte, who’s always pushing me to
do better, to make my Caitlin Strong books, and all my books for that matter, both
structurally and emotionally complete. Anybody can have a book that’s loaded with
“stuff;” the real challenge is being able to articulate why the reader should care, what
vests them emotionally in the book and its characters. Here’s some breaking news: The
next Caitlin book is called “Strong Darkness” because something happens early on that
takes her and Cort Wesley to a very dark place potentially. I’m going to take her right
up to the edge, but hopefully not so close that she slips over.
S. MAG.: How do you handle writer’s block?
J.L.: Well, I never get writer’s block. My job is to write and that’s what I do. Now, I do
have a couple tricks I use to avoid it. Like I always leave off in the middle of a scene,
so I get a running start when I go back to work in my next session. I also always have
a book by one of my favorite authors lying around so I can get into the mindset of
writing a first draft by first reading fifteen to twenty pages of somebody else’s work that
inspires me and gets me pumped.
S. MAG.: What is the best advice you have received that you pass along to new
authors?
J.L.: Tell a story. Sounds simple, but developing an instinctive sense of beginning,
middle, and end, of knowing how to build suspense, how to pace, how to make your
book impossible to put down, is what it all comes down to. You have to write so that
every scene, every paragraph—hell, every line—contains conflict and gives the reader
a reason to keep reading. When you think of great oral storytellers, think of the way
they use the cadence and rhythm of their voices to keep those gathered around the
campfire leaning forward. Well, finding that voice is just as important for storytellers
who use written words as their tool instead.
S. MAG.: What does the future hold for Jon Land?
J.L.: Lots of work, too much work, more work than I can handle! (laughs) Seriously,
I’ve never had as many opportunities as I have right now, but I never stop considering
more because you just never know when the big one that gets me on the New York
Times bestseller list is going to come. You already asked me about nonfiction and I
also see some good finally coming out of Hollywood after my one and only film, the
teen comedy Dirty Deeds, was released all the way back in 2005. Hey, call me the
eternal optimistic. But I’m also a realist and that’s why, to paraphrase the great Jerry
Garcia, I’ve embarked on so many journeys leading to the same destination that’s
labeled, simply, SUCCESS!
Jon currently lives in Providence, Rhode Island and loves hearing from his
readers and other writers. So don’t be shy and check out his website at http://www.
jonlandbooks.com/ where you can peruse the “Homeland,” “Landscape,” and his
“Playland Media.” No pun on words there. ■
70
Strong Rain
Falling
By Jon Land
Jon Land continues his Caitlin
Strong series with “Strong Rain Falling.”
After reading it, I can assure you of two
things: Jon is at his best and there is no
chance that this series will end any time
soon.
Caitlin Strong is a fifth generation
Texas Ranger and she epitomizes the
Ranger code. Like her relatives before
her, she is fast becoming a legend in her
own right. During her years as a ranger,
she managed to forge some rather
dubious friendships. Her support
system contains two men who were
once on the other side of the law. Cort
Wesley Masters is her closest friend and
Paz is the most feared man on either
side of the Mexican-American border.
In a town called Willow Creek,
five children are found dead, brutally
murdered in a ritualistic manner. The
murders are reminiscent of a massacre
that occurred in the same town back in
1919—a case that involved her greatgrandfather and her grandfather when
they were Texas Rangers. At the same
time the five children are killed, there
is an attempt on the lives of the two
teenage sons of Cort Wesley. If not for
Caitlin and Cort, they too would be
dead.
In order to prevent further
attempts on their lives, Caitlin Strong
must face a criminal unlike any other
she has faced before…her mirror
image. A woman as cunning and smart
as she is and who is as evil as Caitlin is
just. It will take all of the resources of
Caitlin, Cort, and Paz to stop her and a
mass genocide of the United States.
Regardless of whether you are a
die-hard fan of Jon Land’s Caitlin Strong
series or whether this is your first foray
into the Texas Ranger’s story, you will
love “Strong Rain Falling.”
It would be a crime not to read
it, and trust me, you do not want to
commit a crime as long as Caitlin
Strong is wearing a badge.
Reviewed by J.M. LeDuc, author of
“Cursed Days” by Suspense Publishing,
an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Justice
for Sara
By Erica Spindler
Chapter One
Liberty, Louisiana
Monday, June 3, 2013
10:00 A.M.
Katherine McCall stood at the broken front gate and stared
at the words that had been spray-painted in black across the
yellow clapboard siding.
Simple. Ugly. A warning.
We know u did it.
No surprise there. Kat shifted her gaze. The once sunny
yellow had turned forlorn.
The white trim was peeling, the gardens overgrown and overrun by weeds. She pictured it as it had been the last time
she’d seen it, ten years ago. The cute gingerbread cottage with the white picket fence, gardenias in bloom, their fragrance
potent in the June sun.
Not her childhood home. No, that had been a grand estate on the Tchefuncte River. Plantation grand—with white
columns and a double gallery, a sweeping expanse of lawn with ancient live oaks and century-old magnolias. A swimming
pool and cabana. A guest house and tennis courts. A home befitting the owner of McCall Oil.
No, this had been her sister, Sara’s cottage. Her first home, her pride and joy.
As it had turned out, the only home Sara would ever own.
Regret and grief washed over Kat, as piercing as a fresh wound. If she hadn’t been such a selfish little shit back then,
maybe Sara would be alive today. Maybe her murderer wouldn’t have had the opportunity.
Kat reined in her thoughts, the regret. She couldn’t change the past, no matter how hard she fought accepting it, no
matter how far or fast she ran from it.
Being back in Liberty was an acknowledgment of that.
Kat unlatched the gate and stepped through. She’d thought she would never return. She had promised herself she wouldn’t.
Yet here she was. The scene of the crime. The place her life had come to a bloody, screeching halt.
She started up the walkway, heartbeat quickening. Breath coming fast and thin. Kat forced herself to keep moving, to put
one foot in front of the other. She reached the porch steps. Three of them, though it could have been a hundred by the way
she dreaded climbing them.
She did anyway. Crossed to the front door. With unsteady hands, she fit the key into the lock, turned it and stepped into
the foyer.
Cousin Jeremy had opened the cottage
and had it cleaned for her. The smell of the
polish and cleaners still hung in the air. She
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71
closed the door behind her but didn’t move.
Her gaze went to the spot where she’d found Sara. In a crumpled heap, blood
pooled around her in the shape of an amoeba.
An amoeba. Kat remembered thinking that. She had just studied the singlecell organisms in science class.
She stared at the floor, unable to tear her gaze away. The blood had subtly
stained the honey-colored wood, creating a faint but permanent shadow.
Or was that her imagination?
The doorbell sounded.
Startled, she jumped, then, hand to her chest, peeked out the sidelight. A
man. Dark hair. Good-looking. Holding up a badge.
The sight of it knocked the breath out of her.
“Miss Katherine, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me.”
“Ms. McCall? Sergeant Luke Tanner. Liberty P.D.”
Kat gazed at him, suddenly seeing the resemblance. Now, there was a name
she had never wanted to hear again.
She nodded and opened the door. “Hello, Sergeant. Did you say Tanner?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Any relationship to Chief Stephen Tanner?”
“His son.”
“Perfect.” The sarcasm slipped past her lips before she could stop it.
“Sorry, your dad and I have some uncomfortable history together.”
“Funny, he and I do as well.”
She surprised herself and smiled. “How can I help you, Sergeant Tanner?”
He motioned to the graffiti across the front of the house. “I heard from Mrs.
Bell across the street that you’d had a little trouble already, thought I’d stop by
and check it out.”
“Iris Bell’s still alive? I thought she was a hundred ten years ago.”
Kat could see he wanted to smile but thought better of it. His brown eyes
crinkled at the corners. He cleared his throat. “Probably just kids, but we’ll be
keeping a close eye on the house, stepping up drive-bys and the like.”
“I appreciate that, Sergeant Tanner. And I’m sure Iris Bell will be stepping
up her surveillance as well.”
Again, he struggled not to smile. “This is a small town, Ms. McCall,
everybody knows everybody and their everything. To that end, you might as
well call me Luke.”
“I remember you now. Local football hero. You were off to college before
I got to Tammany West High.” She cocked her head. “You were a bit of a hellraiser, am I right?”
He laughed. “So now you understand my comment about bad history with
my dad. We all carry our pasts around on our backs.”
“Or written on our foreheads,” she said. “A bloodred ‘M’ on mine.”
He glanced toward the graffiti, expression serious. “Yes, well, don’t hesitate
to call if something comes up.”
She followed him onto the front porch. He stopped when he reached the
stairs and turned back to her. “I don’t know why you came back to Liberty, Ms.
McCall, but little towns have long memories. People don’t forget. You’d be wise
to keep that in mind.”
She watched him drive off. How could she not? She had the longest memory
of them all. ■
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72
Justice for Sara
By Erica Spindler
What would you do if you’d been
charged and acquitted for the grisly
murder of your sister? You’d probably run
off, lick your wounds, and learn to live a life
as far away from the stress of your past as
possible. That’s what I would do. But that’s
not the case for Erica Spindler’s strong,
independent, and determined protagonist
in “Justice for Sara.” Spindler’s heroines
are created with depth and an intensity of
character that makes them a force to be
reckoned with.
Katherine ‘Kat’ McCall was a selfish
seventeen-year-old girl when she woke
to find her sister and legal guardian, Sara,
sprawled in a pool of blood in their home.
A sequence of fights over Kat’s lies and
very vocal hatred of her sister, made her the
obvious suspect with the small town sheriff
and the local gossipmongers. However,
a jury found the circumstantial evidence
lacking and Kat was a free young woman.
Kat left town and headed for Portland
and the life she hoped to build, but knew
she’d need to eventually face her past. In
fact, someone wouldn’t let her forget it.
Anonymous letters arrived. She moved.
They swiftly found her again and again. On
the tenth anniversary of Sara’s death, she
received a special letter from the person
she’s deemed the “fan.” A dare to come
home to Liberty and face the past. Kat is
no longer that young girl, but a courageous
and successful woman. She agrees with the
“fan,” it’s time for justice for Sara.
Liberty hasn’t changed and Kat is
not welcomed. In fact, only one man—
acting chief and the son of the sheriff—is
interested in the truth. He’s willing to go
the distance to help Kat find the truth.
Spindler offers dual storylines as the
past and the present run seamlessly and
simultaneously throughout “Justice for
Sara.” It’s a powerful cocktail of seeking the
truth and finding your path, all while racing
towards the climactic ending. Spindler
without a doubt keeps fans on the edge of
their seats.
Reviewed by Shannon Raab for Suspense
Magazine ■
Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
Balances
a
c
i
r
Scales
r
e
E pindl “Justice for Sara” S
the
With
Interview by Suspense Magazine
Press Photo Credit: Hoffman Miller Advertising
Erica’s original ideal career was
one of an artist, and she obtained a BFA and an
MFA in visual arts. But that soon changed after
picking up a romance novel and deciding she
wanted to try her hand at it. She did just that,
successfully, and then progressed to the suspense
genre in 1996. Now, suspense is where she feels
most at home.
And now, she’s a New York Times and
international best-selling author published in
twenty-five countries. With awards aplenty—the
Daphne du Maurier Award for excellence and
the Kiss of Death award—she continues to thrill
her readers and fans.
And she’s doing just that with her latest
novel, “Justice for Sara,” released Aug. 6. Here’s
what it’s about:
When seventeen-year-old
Katherine McCall awakened
one morning to find her beloved
sister, Sara, brutally murdered,
her whole life changed in the
blink of an eye. Kat was named
the prime suspect and, on a
string of circumstantial evidence,
charged and tried. While the jury
found her innocent, not everyone
else agreed, and her only choice
was to go into hiding. But she
carried a dark secret with her,
one that made her worry she
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might actually have had something to do with Sara’s death...
Now years later, Kat is still haunted by her sister’s unsolved murder and continues to receive chilling
anonymous letters, but she has tried to move on with her life. Until, on the tenth anniversary of Sara’s death,
she receives a letter that makes the past impossible to ignore: “What about justice for Sara?” What about justice
for Sara? And for herself? Kat realizes that going back to Liberty, Louisiana, might be the only way to move
forward and find some peace. And there’s a killer out there who was never caught.
But the town she’s come back to is hardly different from the one she left. The secrets and suspicions still run
deep. Kat has an ally in Detective Luke Tanner, son of the former Liberty police chief, but he may be her only
one. With plenty of enemies, no one to trust and a killer determined to keep a dark secret buried, Kat must
decide if justice is worth fighting—and—dying for.
“I view the world through an emotional
lens, so characters’ feelings and reactions
typically come easy for me. ”
Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): What can you tell us about “Justice for Sara” that is not on the back cover?
Erica Spindler (E.S.): I’ve become a bit of a trial junkie. Two recent murder trials—the Casey Anthony trial in Florida and
Amanda Knox in Italy—caught my attention. In both, the women were charged on circumstantial evidence. Their behavior made
them look guilty. Amanda Knox sat on her boyfriend’s lap and giggled while waiting to be questioned by police about the murder
of her roommate, and Casey Anthony was out partying while her daughter was missing. We, the public, were certain they were
guilty. And when they were acquitted, we were outraged. In “Justice for Sara,” I wanted to crawl inside the head of the accused.
What if everything pointed to your guilt? What if you were innocent and no one believed you? What if, because of your actions
and the public’s presumption of guilt, your sister’s killer went free? From those questions, “Justice for Sara” was born.
S. MAG.: How were able to put yourself emotionally in the shoes of your main character, Katherine McCall?
E.S.: I view the world through an emotional lens, so characters’ feelings and reactions typically come easy for me. Katherine posed
a bit of a challenge because she’s a rebellious teenager at the time of her sister, Sara’s, murder. Her reactions to the murder and
her arrest were key to the story’s believability. I’m the mother of teenagers so I put them in her shoes, imaging their emotions and
reactions to the sequence of events.
S. MAG.: Which secondary character in “Justice for Sara” had a bigger voice than you originally thought they would?
E.S.: In a way, all of them! I’m always surprised how secondary characters come to life, particularly since I work from very short
synopses. So, I’m going to pick the first character that popped into my head: the nosy neighbor Mrs. Iris Bell. What I ended up
loving about her was how she enhanced the book’s small-town setting, adding a sense of history, of simpler times and traditional
families.
S. MAG.: What is one thing about Katherine you want to make sure readers understand?
E.S.: How much she loved her sister, Sara. And how that love drives her to find Sara’s killer.
S. MAG.: When writing suspense books, how difficult is it to keep the balance of peaks and valleys throughout the book?
E.S.: It’s so important because it’s what keeps the readers both invested in the story and turning the pages! It’s a delicate
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Suspense Magazine August 2013 / Vol. 050
balance, especially since I write emotionally charged
suspense. I have to make certain the characters really
absorb, experience, and grow from the action without
slowing the pace.
S. MAG.: When you keep your eyes open to everyday
life, are you amazed at how many things happen that
wind up in your books?
E.S.: Absolutely! Everything influences me, from current
events, to the sound of the breeze through the trees, to
the smells on a French Quarter street, to a snippet of
conversation I overhear.
S. MAG.: What is best compliment you can receive
from a reader? E.S.: That they couldn’t put my book down.
S. MAG.: Is there one sentence or one paragraph in
“Justice for Sara” that captures the essence of the book?
E.S.: ‘Kat had promised herself she would never return
to Liberty. Yet here she was. The scene of the crime. The
place her life had come to a bloody, screeching halt.’
That pretty much says it all.
S. MAG.: Does there ever come a time during the
writing of a book when you tell yourself you just can’t
get through it? If so, what do you do?
E.S.: For me it’s the point when I think “I can’t pull it
all together, the book’s going to suck!” What do I do? Eat
chocolate. Despair. Fret. Drink wine. Call a writer friend.
Whine, whine, whine to anyone who’ll listen. Then get
my butt back in the chair and figure it out. Hasn’t failed
me yet!
S. MAG.: What does the future hold for Erica Spindler?
E.S.: Hopefully, more books. I love the current direction
of my writing. My next is tentatively titled “Finding True”
and is another story of a woman’s search for the truth—in
this case, the truth about her new husband’s shadowed
past and what really happened to his first wife, True.
Erica lives near New Orleans with her family and is,
we’re sure, diligently busy at work on her next thriller.
So stay tuned and in the meantime, check her website
out at http://www.ericaspindler.com for information on
future releases. ■
SuspenseMagazine.com
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The HVAC Man
By Doward Stevens
“Listen,” Kate said, sitting up in bed.
There was something moving in the attic. Marshall and Kate had been in their house less than two months when the
noises started waking them up at night. At first, Marshall tried to placate Kate with tales of mice taking up residence within
the guts of the house. They adopted a cat, hoping their unwanted tenants would be repelled by the feline scent and find other
accommodations. The plan failed. One day, the cat disappeared.
“He probably got tired of the late night ruckus and left for more peaceful dwellings,” Marshall joked.
Kate made him search the house from top to bottom, checking every egress, as appreciation for his brevity. There was
nary a crook nor parcel of cranny that he was not familiar with after his exhaustive search. Cobwebs and dust bunnies were
his attire that long day.
For awhile, the noises stopped. Kate almost believed it had been an imagined event. The house was ideal; a four-level
contemporary in a comfortably mundane subdivision in Barrow, Ohio. The main floor held the living room, dining room
and kitchen. Up seven carpeted steps brought you to three bedrooms and full bath. Down an equal number of steps and you
had an enormous family room, another bedroom, and full bath. Below that a three-quarter basement utilizing a laundry
room and storage, with water heater, furnace and sump pump entertaining each other as well amidst cold cinder block walls.
Two weeks later, a clamoring in the garret, nearly insistent and demanding appeasement. Marshall and Kate defiantly
ignored the complaining tumult. They adapted by using headphones and digital music players, communicating with
rudimentary hand gestures. At one point, Marshall removed his socks and attempted an agitated form of semaphore which
Kate mistook as a request for clean laundry.
“I AM SO TIRED OF THIS!” Kate screamed one night in bed over the throbbing mixes of massive attack in her ears.
“WHAT?” Marshall said.
They lay glaring at the ceiling, headphones draped flaccidly in their clenched fists. An orgy of bedlam was unleashed in
the eaves like a petulant child confined to their room for some rebellious infraction.
“We need to call for help.” Kate bristled in defeat.
The exterminator arrived within a few days and completed a full sweep of the residence.
“No sign of vermin. However, I set up traps and dropped some bait underneath the insulation in the attic. If it’s rodents,
they’ll eat the bait which will cause them to seek a water source outside to quench their thirst. The water will activate the
poison and BAM, dead rodents.”
Marshall and Kate felt so confident they couldn’t help but brag to their next-door neighbor, Phil, the following day. Never
one to be without an expert opinion, Phil quickly found fault with their approach.
“Traps are fine and all,” he said, “but the bait doesn’t always work. You got plumbing throughout your house. If there’s
even the tiniest leak in the pipes, the rodents will find it and drink themselves to death. Then you’re left with a mess of
decaying bodies in the walls. Now you have the smell to contend with.”
In the days that followed, the racket in the rafters continued. The traps sat empty and they could only assume the bait
failed as well since no foul stench wafted through the house. They were at a loss.
“It sounds like kids running up and down those old metal slides on the playground,” Kate commented one evening as
they prepared for bed.
“Maybe it isn’t rodents. Maybe the previous owner had kids who dropped marbles or something down the vents. I’m
going to call an HVAC tech tomorrow to come check it out,” Marshall said.
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They exchanged kisses, inserted their respective ear buds and tuned out of yet another night of aggravation.
Marshall made good his intent the next day by contacting a company he found on the internet; Newton Plumbing,
Heating & Cooling. He advised them of the situation and admitted he wasn’t really sure what to ask them to look for.
“Not to worry. We’ll do a basic maintenance check-up. Do you know the last time you had someone out there?” the rep
asked.
Marshall didn’t have a clue. The sticker on the furnace door with that information was nearly illegible. They scheduled
an appointed time and Marshall rang off. He immediately called his employer and let them know he would be in later that
afternoon.
He then settled down in his recliner in front of the TV to wait. At some point his drowsy eyes lolled. He drifted to sleep,
remote control still gripped in his hand and thumb pressed firmly against the channel surf button.
He dreamed he was sitting in his recliner waiting for the HVAC man. When the service guy arrived, Marshall was in a
crappy mood. His head throbbed like a bowling ball was rolling around inside his skull. He met the tech at the door; a big
Samoan-looking fellow with an amiable smile and black lightning bolt tattoos on his shaved head. He wore a dark green polo
shirt with the company insignia emblazoned in yellow on his left pocket. A pair of thick work gloves protruded from the hip
pocket of his tan Chinos.
“Afternoon. Are you Mr. Herbert? I’m from Newton’s.”
“That’s me. Come in.”
The two men walked into the kitchen where the basement door was located.
“Name’s Domo, pleased to meet you. So, you’re having some rattling in your ducts?”
Marshall gave him a brief explanation of events. “We had an exterminator come by, but he didn’t find anything. Left some
traps around so be careful.”
Domo cast an appraising look around. “Nice house. Looks too new to be having any problems. But you never can tell
with these cookie-cutter structures. Subcontractors try and save money by using below standard materials from less than
reputable suppliers. I knew this fellow one time had sump pump-issues in his brand new home. Turns out the plumber
installed an eight-year old pump that kept seizing up and flooding his basement.”
“You don’t say.” Marshall wanted to hurry this along. He opened the basement door and flicked the wall switch to turn
on the lights. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Domo said, “Will do, sir. I just need to run to my truck for my tools. Be back in a flash.”
Marshall waited at the front door for him, then returned to his recliner as the HVAC man’s solid footsteps descended the
creaky basement stairs. Nice guy, he thought, and felt suddenly embarrassed for interrupting Domo’s story. He would make
it up to him with a complimentary comment to his boss at Newton’s.
Marshall called Kate.
“So?” she asked.
He could hear her typing, She was a paralegal at Wilson, Trent and Lawson, Attorneys at Law.
“He’s here right now. No prognosis yet. How’s your day?”
She sighed. “I’ve been up to my nose in briefs all morning.”
He snickered. “I guess you should stop wearing your skirts so high, then.”
“You’re an ass. You know what I mean.”
He told her he would let her know after the guy left and ended the call with smoochy-kisses in her ear and heartfelt
professes of love.
“Sir?”
Marshall went to the top of the basement steps. “Yeah, what is it, Domo?”
“I found something in the furnace filter housing. Did you guys have a pet?”
He just about leapt to the bottom of the stairs. Domo was crouched near the side of the furnace. The two front panels
were removed and leaning against the wall. The blue pilot-light flame danced in the whispery draft of circulating air within.
The hinged door of the filter housing was open as well.
“I found this,” Domo said, holding out his hand. He held a swatch of skin covered in charcoal fur. It was matted with
dried blood.
Their missing cat! He hadn’t been around long enough to get a proper name. Mostly, they just called him Dang-it.
“How did that get inside the furnace?”
Domo looked like a guy who didn’t let much bother him. He was a granite-carved bulk of a man, easily six-foot-four and
350 pounds. The type of guy who could bench-press a refrigerator and not furrow his brow doing it. Right now, though, he
looked like a kid who just saw his closet door swing open by itself in the middle of the night. He was terrified.
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Domo began gathering his things.
“Wait,” Marshall said, “what about the furnace?”
“You and your wife should leave this place.”
Marshall was getting agitated. “What are you talking about? Leave? Why would we leave our home?”
He flanked Domo all the way to the front door. The big guy flat-palmed it open and made good speed out to his truck.
He popped the tailgate open and slid the toolbox in, then slammed it shut. He glanced back at Marshall and motioned for
him to open the door.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Herbert,” Domo said. “I can’t stay in your house. I’ll be at Liam’s Pub later, around nine. We can discuss
this if you like.”
He climbed into his truck, cranked the ignition and peeled away from the curb on banshee tires. Marshall stood there
with his jaw slack, wondering what the heck just happened.
He realized he was still holding the piece of cat flesh, so he chucked it onto the front yard with a disgusted groan.
Hopefully some nocturnal scavenger would rid him of the grisly remains.
Later, at work, he took a few minutes to call Kate. He decided to omit the gruesome details because, in all honesty, he
didn’t know how to tell someone he found part of a presumably dead cat in a furnace without totally freaking them out.
Case in point: Domo.
“The HVAC man finished up and didn’t find any issues,” Marshall lied. He could feel his nose growing longer as he spoke
the words.
Kate said, “Where does that leave us?”
He thought; an exorcism? “Back to square one, I guess.”
“Wonderful. After the day I had I was expecting better news.”
He decided to proceed with the assumption that the cat, however managed, got into the ducts and caused all the noise
while in agony from his injury. On the surface that made as much sense as anything. Marshall was leery of delving any deeper
than that.
Kate came home exhausted and turned in early. By the time he joined her a few hours later, she was dead to the world.
She hadn’t even bothered putting in her ear buds. Marshall crawled into bed, stretching out on his back with his arms crossed
behind his head. Listening. He wondered if the house was listening to him as well. There was something eerie about the quiet.
It felt palpable, the kind of forced silence reserved for games of hide and seek. Deliberately deceptive in the very stillness
being evoked. You know I’m here, the house teased. I know you are here, too.
Marshall’s spine bristled at this imagined utterance. He began to see images in the swirls of the textured ceiling; leering
eyes and lips curled in cruel smiles. Bone-white fingers reaching out to caress his face with mock tenderness, wanting to
assuage his uneasiness. Pressing begrimed fingernails to his flesh, drawing blood. Marking him as a servant to whatever dark
whims and desires needed sustaining.
He opened his eyes; it was morning. He was stiff from lying in the same position all night and covered in clammy sweat.
It seeped from him to the sheet below. Kate slept peacefully beside him, the rise and fall of her chest the only indication of
life. He rolled over to check the time on the clock-radio: 7:15 a.m.
When Kate woke up, Marshall was showered and dressed. She could smell coffee brewing and yawned. He was in the
kitchen finishing his cereal; the spoon clinked as it attacked the last bit in the bottom of the bowl. She performed her
ablutions with some haste so that she could see him before he left for work.
“Sorry about last night,” she said and kissed him. They remained embraced as she noticed his haggard appearance. “You
okay?”
“Yeah, just tired. I kept expecting the normal nightly brouhaha and I guess I was too amped up to sleep. The good news
is all was quiet.”
She promised she would duck out early from work and offered to make them dinner reservations that evening at the
Italian restaurant downtown; Dario’s. “A timeout from all this.”
He nodded. “Sounds good.”
Marshall immersed himself in the routine tasks of his job and put the previous day’s happenings out of his mind. Even
the afternoon thunderstorm that abruptly rolled through Barrow gave him no pause in his endeavors. Kate called around five
and said she would swing by to pick him up at his office.
“Oh yeah, I went home for lunch and there was a police car in our driveway.”
“What? Why?”
“Phil from next door heard loud crashes coming from inside our house when he was working in his yard. He knows no
one is there during the day.” She went on to say the police accompanied her inside, but they didn’t find anyone and nothing
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was out of place.
“Our uninvited guest is up to mischief. Again.”
It was atypical this happened in broad daylight. As far as he knew, their sojourner favored the twilight hours, otherwise
today’s police visit would be the norm. What was this change in pattern all about?
They enjoyed a delicious dinner at Dario’s. It had been awhile since they had a night out together. The past year had either
been about deciding to buy a house, looking for the perfect house, finding financing on the house they eventually found, or
moving into the house. Now, after several months of peace, the house was once more the issue.
Kate suggested a walk downtown instead of heading directly back to Marshall’s office to pick up his car. The sidewalks
were rolled up by dusk in Barrow so all the shops were closed. She linked her arm with his and leaned her head against his
shoulder. Despite the goings-on, she was more content now than any other time in her life.
Marshall, on the other hand, was troubled. Since Domo found the remains in the furnace filter housing, he was no longer
comfortable in his own home. Trying to keep his feelings hidden from Kate was weighing on his mind as well. He didn’t like
having to lie to her, especially if there was the slightest risk to her safety, as Domo intimated. He also regretted not meeting
with Domo at the Pub.
“Where are you right now?” Kate asked.
He kissed her cheek. “Right here with you. Where I will always be.”
They made love that night before bed and it was like their first time. It was passionate, at times playfully wicked, but
always with hearts true to each other. When they finished, entwining their sweaty, exhausted limbs together, Kate drifted to
sleep with a satisfied smile. Marshall stared up at the ceiling.
The next day was Saturday. Kate was out of the house, probably running errands. The house was quiet. He was debating
staying wrapped up in bed until she returned, but an insistent knocking at the front door altered his plan. He threw on his
robe and went downstairs.
It was Domo. Behind him in the driveway and on the street were several police cars.
Marshall’s heart dropped. “What is it? What’s happened? Is it Kate? Has something happened to Kate?”
“I need you to come outside with me. Everything is going to be okay.” Domo took his elbow and led him down the
sidewalk to an awaiting cruiser. He was wearing a suit today, navy double-breasted pinstripe with a white oxford shirt and
crimson tie.
“You’re doing great.”
Marshall glanced around at the police officers studying him intensely. He saw Phil standing in his driveway, also looking
at him. Some of the other neighbors were coming outside as well.
“Please, tell me what happened.”
Domo said, “You are not well, Kate. We’re taking you back to the hospital.”
Kate? Why the hell was Domo calling him Kate?
“This hasn’t been your house for ten years.” Domo opened the rear passenger-side door of the police cruiser in the
driveway. “Marshall’s death was an accident.”
What? Marshall sat down in the driveway; collapsed was more like it. “I’m Marshall.”
Domo kneeled down. “No, Kate. Marshall is dead. He’s been dead for a long time. You broke into this house and tied the
owners up in the attic. The guy next door heard them inside making noises and contacted the police. We’ve been trying to
find you.”
“I don’t understand, Domo.”
A young officer gently lifted Marshall to his feet and cuffed his hands behind his back. He was placed in the backseat of
the police cruiser.
“You might want to examine the security at your facility, doc. This could have been worse than it turned out.”
Domo removed a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped the sweat from his brow.
“Thank you, officer. The storm knocked out the power. She escaped before the generators kicked in. Newton’s called me
and said someone sounding like Kate was trying to schedule a service call. Her husband used to own the place. I spoke to the
office a lot over the course of the investigation. They told me all the times Marshall complained about Kate leaving the gas on
the stove turned on at home. One night there was an explosion.”
Marshall was very uncomfortable sitting with his hands secured behind him. He wanted to mention it to the police
officer, but didn’t want to interrupt his conversation with Domo. They seemed so serious, especially the HVAC man. Finding
that piece of the dead cat really pushed him over the edge. The poor guy thought he was a doctor now. The poor guy. ■
This story is dedicated to my friend, Dave Fisher, who passed away suddenly on December 24, 2012.
SuspenseMagazine.com
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