Suspense, Mystery, Horror and Thriller Fiction

JULY 2013

 A Summertime Cornucopia with James Rollins Tami Hoag Brad Taylor Richard Godwin Matthew Dunn

Lisa Gardner Continues her 10-Part Series On Conquering the Dreaded Synopsis Peek Inside Stranger Than Fiction “The eye of god” & Beware! “The Poisoned Pilgrim” The Vampire Hunter #1 Internat I onal Bestseller “SIMON KERNICK writes great plots, great characters, great action.” —Lee ChiLd

Available in paperback and ebook Available as an ebook Available as an ebook

“Simon Kernick writes with his foot pressed hard on the pedal. hang on tight!” —harLan Coben

“Kernick is no longer a writer to watch; he’s an author to be reckoned with.” —MarK biLLinghaM

ATRIA INTERNATIONAL BOOKS OF MYSTERY YOUR PASSPORT TO A WORLD OF MURDER AND MAYHEM

Proudly Published by Facebook.com/AtriaBooks Twitter.com/AtriaBooks

AtriaInternationalMysteries.com PICK UP OR DOWNLOAD YOUR COPIES TODAY C r e di t s From the Editor John Raab President & Chairman What makes a great villain? Shannon Raab Creative Director When authors write a series, the focus is Romaine Reeves CFO generally on the heroes—their family and lives, and the people that touch them every day. Starr Gardinier Reina But what about the villain? That character Executive Editor usually changes from book to book since the hero Jim Thomsen saves the day and in the end the villain is generally Copy Editor killed off. The readers rarely get to know the villain Contributors since their life is so short, but that doesn’t mean the Donald Allen Kirch author can simply write about a really bad person that does bad things and then loses in Mark P. Sadler the end. Susan Santangelo DJ Weaver Why? Because the number-one rule that every author should follow is to never write CK Webb a character that is forgettable. The most famous villains get that status because of the Kiki Howell Kaye George depth of character the author was able to create. While it’s difficult for an author to get Weldon Burge that in-depth with a certain character in one book, it can be done. Ashley Wintters Scott Pearson When you start thinking of your fictional world and the characters that will live in D.P. Lyle M.D. it, pay close attention to the characters that you know will only be around for one book. Claudia Mosley Christopher Nadeau You have time to build characters that will continue on from book to book and bring Kathleen Heady them along with the reader. Stephen Brayton Brian Blocker Let’s take a series, more than three books that are not tied together. When you Andrew MacRae first introduce the hero and the characters that will interact with them throughout the Val Conrad series, you can slowly bring them along through all three books, talking about their past, Laura Alden Melissa Dalton present, and future. Creating a villain in each book and having depth to them will bring Elliott Capon the reader back to book two and book three and so on. J.M. LeDuc Holly Price Thrillers—particularly military and political ones—constitute one genre that seem Kari Wainwright to have the same exact hero or cast of heroes facing new challenges each time. In some of David Ingram Jodi Hanson these books, the villain is simply a character that is placed in the pages to give the heroes Amy Lignor some sort of challenge, and never really touch the reader with any emotion. Susan May J.S. McCormick Even though “The Joker” has been around for a very long time, Heath Ledger created Kestrel T. Andersen a version of that character that is seen as one of the best film villains ever. Within the Cassandra McNeil Jenny Hilborne pages of a book, given that it takes a lot longer than two Tanya Contois hours to read, the author should have no excuse not to Sharon Salonen Anthony J. Franze create a formidable foe for the hero to encounter. This Jeanine Elizalde basic rule of character development is what separates Kristin Centorcelli Jerry Zavada the good authors from the great ones. Ray Palen This rule also works with secondary characters, S.L. Menear which fill the world of a book up into much more Drake Morgan Sherri Nemick than just words on a page. The reader will not only

Customer Service and be entertained but have an experience that will keep Subscriptions: them coming back to see what you have in store for For 24/7 service, please use our website, them next. www.suspensemagazine.com or write to: SUSPENSE MAGAZINE at 26500 Agoura Road, #102-474 John Raab Calabasas, CA 91302 Suspense Magazine does not share our CEO/Publisher Photo Credit: Model: http://l6visyda.deviantart.com, magazine subscriber list to third-party Suspense Magazine ■ Photographer: http://iardacil-stock.deviantart.com companies. “Reviews within this magazine are the opinions of the individual reviewers and are provided solely to provide readers assistance Rates: $24.00 (Electronic Subscrip- in determining another's thoughts on the book under discussion and shall not be interpreted as professional advice or the opin- tion) per year. All foreign subscrip- ion of any other than the individual reviewer. The following reviewers who may appear in this magazine are also individual cli- tions must be payable in U.S. funds. ents 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.”

SuspenseMagazine.com 1 CONTENT Su sp e n se M ag a z i n e July 2013 / Vol. 049

Excerpt of “The Poisoned Pilgrim” By Oliver Pötzsch ...... 3

Rules of Fiction: The Seven (Bad) HabitsBy Anthony J . Franze...... 7

Lisa Gardner on Conquering the Dreaded Synopsis: Part Six...... 14

The Hilcrove AtrocityBy Justin Guleserian...... 18

From Their Pen . . to the Silver Screen By CK Webb ...... 22

Getting Into Your Historical Characters POV By Ric Wasley...... 24

The Sidewalk EndsBy Thomas Scopel...... 26

Inside the Pages: Suspense Magazine Book Reviews...... 32

Suspense Magazine Movie Reviews...... 44

Featured Artist: Taire Lilith Morrigan...... 46

Excerpt of “The Eye of God” By James Rollins...... 54

Stranger Than Fiction: The Vampire Hunter By Donald Allen Kirch. . . . . 63

Diving to Depth By Joe Becker...... 75 Special Preview from Oliver Pötzsch

The Poisoned Pilgrim A Hangman’s Daughter Tale

By Oliver Pötzsch Prologue Erling, near Andechs Saturday, June 12, 1666 AD, Evening

Dark thunderclouds hung overhead as the novitiate Coelestin, with a curse on his lips, marched toward his imminent death. In the west, beyond Lake Ammer, swirling clouds towered up, the first flashes of lightning appeared, and a distant rumble of thunder could be heard. When Coelestin squinted, he could make out gray rain clouds over the monastery in dießen, five miles away. In only a matter of minutes the storm would be raging over the Holy Mountain, and now, of all times, the fat monk of an apothecary had sent him to fetch a carp from the monastery pond for supper. Coelestin cursed again and pulled the cape of his black robe farther down over his face. What could he do? Obedience was one of the three vows of the Benedictine order, and Brother Johannes was his superior—it was that simple. An occasionally hot- tempered, often enigmatic, and above all gluttonous lay brother, but nevertheless his superior. “Porca miseria!” As so often when he was in a bad mood, Coelestin switched to his mother tongue. He had grown up in an Italian village on the other side of the Alps, but in the turmoil of the war, his father had become a mercenary and his mother a whore who followed army camps. Here in the monastery on the Holy Mountain, Coelestin had found a home in the pharmacy at Andechs. Even though the incessant litanies and nightly prayers sometimes got on his nerves, he felt safe here. Three times a day he got a good meal; he had a warm, dry place to sleep, and the Andechs beer was said to be one of the best in the entire Electorate of Bavaria. In these hard times, one could have it much worse. Nevertheless, the spindly little novitiate cursed under his breath, and not just because he would soon be as wet as the carp in the pond of the Erling Monastery. Coelestin was afraid. Ever since the discovery he made three days ago, fear had been eating at him like a rabid beast. What he saw was so horrible that his blood almost froze in his veins. It still followed him at night in his dreams, when he woke up screaming and bathed in sweat. God would never allow such a crime to go unpunished; that much was certain. To Coelestin, the dark clouds and the flashes of lightning in the sky seemed like the first harbingers of an Old Testament revenge that would soon be visited on the monastery. Even more threatening than the heresy, actually, was the man’s hateful gaze. The man had recognized Coelestin when the novitiate tried to make a hasty escape—at least that’s what Coelestin thought. And the look on the novitiate’s face said more than a thousand words. In recent days they had reached out to him, prodding, as if checking that Coelestin hadn’t betrayed the secret. Coelestin knew that the other one had powerful advocates. Why would they believe him, the little novitiate? The accusation was so monstrous that he could be considered insane. Or even worse, a character assassin. This comfortable life, with meat, beer, and a warm, dry bed, would then no doubt be gone forever. Nevertheless, Coelestin had decided to speak up. The next morning he would tell the monastery council what he’d seen

SuspenseMagazine.com 3 and his conscience would finally be clear. A loud clap of thunder rolled across the countryside, and the freezing novitiate could feel the first cool drops of rain on his face. Hastening, he tightened his hood and had soon left the last houses of Erling behind. Fields and meadows spread out before him. On the other side of a small wooded area, surrounded by fences and bushes, lay the fishpond. When Coelestin turned around, he saw storm clouds towering over the monastery up on the mountain—the home he might soon have to leave. He sighed and shuffled the last few yards to the pond, as if advancing toward his own execution. In the meantime, drops fell faster and faster, until the surface of the pond seemed to boil up like a poisonous brew. Coelestin could see the fat gray bodies of the carp slowly coursing through the dark water by the dozens. Their hungry mouths snapped at the raindrops as if they were manna from heaven. Coelestin shuddered as a wave of disgust came over him. He’d never cared for carp. They were dumb, slimy scavengers whose flesh tasted of moss and decay. The fish reminded him of the monsters he’d seen in pictures of Jonah and the whale: horrible creatures of the deep that swallowed whole everything that wriggled in front of them in the water. Timidly Coelestin started down the narrow, slippery walkway and reached for a fishnet leaning on a post alongside the pier. With his hood deep down over his face, he leaned into the wall of rain and wind and moved his net back and forth listlessly in the water. If he hurried, he might be back in the monastery pharmacy before the trousers and socks under his thick black robe were soaked as well. In another life he probably would have slapped Brother Johannes across his chubby face with the carp, but for now, he was damned to prayer and obedience. This was the price he had to pay for such a comfortable life. A slight creaking sound, almost drowned out by the thunder, caused the novitiate to pause. It sounded as if someone had stepped onto the walkway behind him. But just as Coelestin was about to turn around, something started flopping about in his net, and with a sigh of relief, he pulled in the long pole. “Got you,” he mumbled. “Let’s have a look at what a big fish . . .” At that instant, something heavy hit him on the back of the head. Coelestin staggered, slipped on the rain-soaked wood of the walkway, and finally fell—fishnet and all—into the swirling water of the pond, where he thrashed around and fought to save himself. Like so many people of his time, Coelestin could skin a rabbit, identify hundreds of herbs by their smell, and recite whole sections of the Bible by heart. But one thing he couldn’t do was swim. The young novitiate shouted, waved his arms around, and kicked his skinny legs, but his own weight pulled him inexorably down. When he felt the muddy bottom beneath his feet, he pushed himself back up to the surface, gasping. In despair he reached out in all directions until he suddenly felt the pole floating in front of him on the surface. He clung to it and pulled himself up. Through the increasingly violent downpour he could see a hooded figure on the walkway holding the other end of the net. “Oh, thank you,” he groaned. “You saved my—” At that moment the figure pushed the pole down so hard that Coelestin sank again, gurgling. When he came to the surface again, he felt the pole push him down violently once again. “But . . .” he started to say as his mouth filled with murky water, which stifled his last desperate cries. Silently he sank into the pond. As life ebbed from his body in little air bubbles, Coelestin could feel the fat, slimy carp rubbing against his cheeks and nibbling on the short hair of his tonsure. When the dying youth had finally sunk to the bottom, his mouth was as wide open as those of the fish around him that stared back at him with dumb, expressionless eyes. The man on the walkway watched the bubbles for a while and finally, nodding contentedly, put the net back in place and set out for home. The time had come for him to complete his work. Chapter 1 At The Same Moment, in the Forests Below The Holy Mountain

Lightning flashed from the sky like the finger of an angry god. Simon Fronwieser saw it directly over Lake Ammer, where for a fraction of a second, it lit up the foaming waves in a sickly green. It was followed by a peal of thunder and a steady downpour—a black, soaking wall of rain that within moments drenched the two dozen or so pilgrims from Schongau. Though it was only seven in the evening, night had fallen suddenly. The medicus gripped the hand of his wife, Magdalena, tighter and, along with the others, prepared to climb the steep hill to the Andechs Monastery. “We were lucky!” shouted Magdalena over the thundering downpour. “An hour earlier and the storm would have caught us out on the lake.” Simon nodded silently. It wouldn’t be the first time a ship of pilgrims had gone down with all hands in Lake Ammer.

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  4 Now, barely twenty years after the end of the Great War, the crowds of pilgrims streaming to the famous Bavarian monastery were larger than anyone could remember. In a time of hunger, storms, ravenous wolves, and marauding brigands, people were more eager than ever to find protection in the arms of the church. This longing was fed by reports of miracles, and the Andechs Monastery in particular, thirty miles southwest of Munich, was renowned for its ancient relics that possessed magic powers—as well as for its beer, which helped people to forget their worries. When the medicus turned around again, he could just make out through the rainclouds the wind-whipped lake that they had just managed to escape. Two days earlier, he had left Schongau with Magdalena and a group from their hometown. The pilgrimage led them over the Hoher Peißenberg to dießen on Lake Ammer, where a rickety rowboat took them to the other shore. Now they were proceeding through the forest along a steep, muddy path toward the monastery, which towered far above them in the dark clouds. Burgomaster Karl Semer led the procession on horseback, followed on foot by his grown son and the Schongau priest, who struggled to keep a huge painted wooden cross upright in the storm. Behind him came carpenters, masons, cabinetmakers, and, finally, the young patrician Jakob Schreevogl, the only other city councilman to follow the call for the pilgrimage. Simon assumed that both Schreevogl and the burgomaster had come less in search of spiritual salvation than for business reasons. A place like Andechs, with its thousands of hungry and thirsty pilgrims, was a gold mine. The medicus wondered what the dear Lord would have to say about this. Hadn’t Jesus chased all the merchants and money lenders from the temple? Well, at least Simon’s own conscience was clear. He and Magdalena had come to Andechs not to make money but only to thank God for saving their two children. Simon couldn’t help smiling when he thought of three-year-old Peter at home and his brother, Paul, who had just turned two. He wondered if the children were giving their grandfather, the Schongau hangman, a hard time at home. When another bolt of lightning hit a nearby beech, the pilgrims screamed and threw themselves to the ground. There was a snapping and crackling as sparks jumped to other trees. In no time, the entire forest seemed to be on fire. “Holy Mary, Mother of God!” In the twilight, Simon could see Karl Semer fall to his knees a few paces away and cross himself several times. Alongside him, his petrified son stared open-mouthed at the burning beeches while, all around him, the other Schongauers fled into a nearby ravine. Simon’s ears were ringing from the bone-jarring thunderclap that seemed to come at the same instant from right over their heads, so he could only hear his wife’s voice as if through a wall of water. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll be safer down there by the brook.” Simon hesitated, but his wife seized him and pulled him away just as flames shot up from two beeches and a number of small firs at the edge of the narrow path. Simon stumbled over a rotten branch, then slid down the smooth slope covered with dead leaves. Arriving at the bottom of the ravine, he stood up, groaning, and wiped a few twigs from his hair while scanning the apocalyptic scene all around. The lightning had split the huge beech straight down the middle, and burning boughs and branches were strewn down the slope. The flames cast a flickering light on the Schongauers, who moaned, prayed, and rubbed their bruised arms and legs. Fortunately, none of them appeared injured; even the burgomaster and his son seemed to have survived the disaster unscathed. In the gathering dusk, old Semer was busy searching for his horse, which had galloped away with his baggage. Simon felt a slight satisfaction as he watched the burgomaster running through the forest, bellowing loudly. Hopefully the mare took off with his moneybags, he thought. If that fat old goat shouts one more hallelujah from up there on his horse, I’m going to commit a mortal sin. Simon quickly dismissed this thought as unworthy of a pilgrim and quietly cursed himself for not having brought along a warmer coat. The new green woolen cape he’d bought at the Augsburg cloth market was dapper, but after the rain it hung on him like a limp rag. “One might almost think God had some objection to our visiting the monastery today.” ■ Oliver Pötzsch, born in 1970, has worked for years as a scriptwriter for Bavarian television. He himself is a descendant of one of Bavaria's leading dynasties of executioners. He lives in Munich with his family.

Excerpted from “The Poisoned Pilgrim” A Hangman’s Daughter Tale Text copyright 2012 by Oliver Pötzsch English translation copyright 2013 by Lee Chadeayne “The Poisoned Pilgrim” A Hangman’s Daughter Tale was first published in 2012 by Ullstein Buchverlag GmbH as Der Hexer und die Henkerstochter. Translated from German by Lee Chadeayne. First published in English by AmazonCrossing in 2013.

SuspenseMagazine.com 5

America's Favorite Suspense Authors On the Rules of Fiction The Seven (Bad) Habits of Highly Effective Writers 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 are teaching at this summer’s CraftFest, the International Thriller Writers’ writing school held during the organization’s annual ThrillerFest conference. This month, nearly a dozen CraftFest instruc- tors, including ITW’s co-founders David Morrell and Gayle Lynds, identify recurring issues they see in the work of newer writers.

Shattering the adage, those who can, do; those who can’t, teach, some of the biggest names in fiction will teach this month at CraftFest, a writing school held during the International Thriller Writers (ITW) association’s annual conference in New York City. Dozens of renowned storytellers will teach nearly forty classes on a myriad of writing topics. As a member of the 2013 CraftFest faculty (I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t know how it happened either), I had access to this impressive talent pool, and I couldn’t resist asking the CraftFest teachers a question of interest to readers of this series: “In the numerous manuscripts you’ve reviewed by newer writers, what’s the one main problem you’ve seen over and over?” The authors rose to the occasion and identified not only recurring problems—seven bad habits—of newer writers, but also some solutions. Bad Habit #1: Flashbacks at the Beginning David Morrell, the father of the modern action novel—and author of the acclaimed new Victorian thriller, “Murder as a Fine Art”—identified the flashback as a major problem. “I frequently see minor flashbacks on the first pages of manuscripts. ‘Joe woke up with a terrible hangover. The previous night he’d been at his favorite bar and had drunk three more drinks than he should have.

SuspenseMagazine.com 7 He’d barely been able to find his car. Now he wondered where he’d parked it.’ Moving a story backward on a first page is, by definition, not a good idea. It becomes a stylistic tic that shows up again and again in later parts of the story. I see this problem so often that I use it to determine my level of hope for the rest of the manuscript.” Morrell’s fix? “Especially on a first page, step back and look for the number of times that ‘had’ is used. If there’s a cluster of them, chances are they signal a minor flashback. On the theory that forward motion is essential on a first page, get rid of the flashback.” Bad Habit #2: Rushing the Ending Gayle Lynds, the reigning queen of espionage, said it’s the end of manuscripts where she often sees problems. “One of my biggest frustrations is spending four-hundred pages deeply involved in a novel only to have it end abruptly, in just a chapter or two. After that much time with the characters and their stories, readers want and need a sense of completion, of satisfaction. And if the book has been violent, they need a violent confrontation at the end for catharsis. It’s true that not all subplots and characters need to be resolved in your ending, but at least work through the primary ones. For instance, because politics plays a large role in my books, my characters generally have somewhat happy endings, but the situation itself is likely to be bettered only for the time being, because that’s the way it is in life.” Lynds said that if you’ve written a great tale and finish it with an ending “commensurate with the its length and weightiness,” you’ll find your readers will not only love what you’ve written, “they’ll hunger for your next book.” Bad Habit #3: Too Much Telling, Not Enough Showing We all know the conventional rule of writing show, don’t tell. The CraftFest authors, however, went beyond this general prohibition and identified some specific show-don’t-tell problems they’ve observed in manuscripts. They also gave tips on how to avoid telling, not showing. Linwood Barclay, the #1 international bestselling author of a dozen novels, including the highly anticipated, “A Tap on the Window” (Aug. 2013), said a mistake he’s seen, and one he’s made himself, is “having major plot developments happen ‘off camera.’ You don’t want someone showing up and saying, ‘That time-bomb we were worried about? It just went off in Tuscaloosa.’” Barclay’s advice: “As much as possible, put your main character where the action is. Don’t have her hear about someone finding a body. Let her be the one who finds the body. This heightens the suspense, gets your protagonist fully in- volved in the story. Best of all, you’re showing the reader what happened, not telling. Get your hero to Tuscaloosa. She may not disarm the bomb in time, but she’ll sure see what happens.” Catherine Coulter, the author of this month’s hot release, “Bombshell,” and more than sixty other New York Times bestsellers, identified the misuse of dialogue tags as the biggest problem she sees in manuscripts. “Dialogue followed by: he snorted, he gasped, she wailed, he gritted, she panted, he rasped, he complimented (common and grammatically wrong) and on and on. In addition, after dialogue, a ‘said’ followed by an adverb, e.g. she said haltingly, he said enthusiastically, she said cruelly, he said bitterly, and on and on.” The Fix: “Use ‘said’ or nothing at all. There are no synonyms for ‘said.’ It is merely an identifier. If you don’t need to identify the speaker, use nothing, or some physical action, e.g., he walked to the window, then dialogue. By using an adjective in the place of said or tacking an adverb onto said, you aren’t trusting that what you’ve written will tell the reader how the character is feeling.” Stanley Trollip, the co-author of the exceptional Detective Kubu mysteries with Michael Sears (under the name Michael Stanley), agreed that too much telling is the main problem he sees in the work of newer writers. “When a new character is introduced, if the writer includes a long description of the character’s background, how the character looks, and so on, that is telling. The effect of this telling is to break the flow of the story and, usually, to slow the action down. Similarly, descriptions of locations can disrupt the flow, detracting from the tension of the

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  8 story.” As for how to tell, not show, the award-winning author of “Deadly Harvest” advised, “Almost always, the information a writer provides when telling the reader something can be incorporated into the action, into the dialog, or into how characters behave.” Trollip gave the following paragraph as an example: As she walked home, Lesego’s head was full of Christmas. She knew her sister would save some of her tips and buy her a small present. Lesego had no money, so she was making Dikeledi a doily from scraps of red material left over from her needlework class. She was trying to embroider ‘Dikeledi’ across it in blue, but she’d made the first letters too big, and the whole word wouldn’t fit neatly. She frowned. She was going to have to start it again. “This probably leaves the reader with the impression that Lesego and Dikeledi are poor, that they are close, and that Lesego was young. But nowhere does it say those things. That is showing rather than telling.” Bad Habit #4: Lack of Structure Steve Berry, this year’s ITW Silver Bullet Award recipient whose books are staples on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists, said a lack of structure is “a common flaw in nearly every new manuscript I read.” At CraftFest, Berry teaches a class titled, “The 6 C’s of Story Structure,” which include Character, Conflict, Crucible, Complications, Crisis, and Conclusion. “All six of these have to be created, developed, and resolved at precise points in the story. A failure to do that creates a snowball effect, one that cascades uncontrollably into an avalanche of problems. It’s like building a house. No matter how elegant, fancy, or clever the walls and decor ultimately are, if the foundation is not laid right underneath the whole thing will eventually crumble to the ground. I’m not saying that my writing is perfect on this. I make my share of mistakes, too. But I can say that I’m aware of structure and work hard to adhere. Many new writers today tend to ignore it.” Berry’s advice on how to address the problem: “Unfortunately, there is only one way. Study your genre. See how writers structure their stories. Both the good ones and the bad. In fact, you can learn a lot more from the bad. Then write. After that, write some more. And keep writing and studying every day. The process never ends. I’ve been at it for twenty- three years and learn something new every day. All any writer can ever hope for is what they write today is better than yesterday, and what they write tomorrow will be better than today. That’s about as good as it gets.” Leonardo Wild, the celebrated writer of eleven books and more than two-hundred articles (and ITW’s only member in Ecuador), said the biggest problems he sees is “a lack of understanding of what a scene is, how it is structured, and what are its functions within a story.” He said a first step is “to realize that there is no scene without three meta-elements: (1) Setting: where and when does a particular scene happen? (2) Characters: who are the characters that appear in the scene? (3) Conflict: what is the nature of the main conflict in a particular scene? Is it a physical conflict? A mental conflict? An emotional conflict?” Bad Habit #5: No Unique Voice Jenny Milchman, one of this year’s breakout debut authors, said, “Over and over I read a fine, workaday manuscript, only to be left wanting. What’s missing is the writer’s unique voice, style, and take on a novel. There are hundreds of thousands of novels out there. Our decision to try and add another is warranted only by our willingness to be daring, to take a leap into uncharted territory. When I read, I want to find something new. I want to feel something new. Give me that, and your novel will find its way.” Milchman’s three tips: “(1) identify the books that have moved you the most and ask why; (2) practice entering a meditative state in which the voice telling you to play it safe is quieted; and (3) envision your novel as a movie and write each scene as if it were appearing before you on the screen. When you describe something—instead of being in that state of trying to be a writer—you sometimes bypass your inner editor and take off.” Brandt Dodson, the author of the acclaimed Sons of Jude and Colton Parker series, said that “the most common problem

SuspenseMagazine.com 9 I’ve seen when reviewing manuscripts from newer writers is the lack of originality in the plot. I’ve seen two manuscripts in the last month alone in which the climactic moment is defined by the protagonist attempting to decide which wire to cut when defusing a bomb. Really?” Dodson’s recommendation: “Read widely and read deeply. And don’t be afraid to read outside your genre. Some foreknowledge of what’s already been done can go a long way toward being original.” Bad Habit #6: Diminishing a Character’s Status Steven James, a critic’s favorite and author of this month’s must-read release, “The King,” said a problem he’s seen involves writers inadvertently lowering the main character’s “status.” What does he mean by status? “Well, in nearly every social encounter one person has, or is vying for, the higher status, or the more dominant position. By allowing the main character to become too submissive, too cold and unfeeling, or too weak and gimpy you can make the reader start to cheer for someone other than your hero.” James’s guidance: “Remember that showing compassion and exhibiting self-control will always raise your character’s status. So, if she is being tortured and screams out for help—low status. But if she clenches her teeth and refuses to cry out, higher status. If your detective arrives at a crime scene and scoffs and coldly assesses the facts—low status (he’s not showing compassion). If he treats the dead with dignity and respect it raises his status. Show higher status by letting your character slow down—stillness is power. Also, choose verbs that portray self-control (he strode into the room) rather than the need for attention (she sashayed into the room, or she strutted across the room). Allow your hero to act heroic by letting him sacrifice for the good of people who are oppressed (emotionally, physically, financially, etc…), letting him turn the other cheek, and showing how he is not easily rattled.” Bad Habit #7: Too Much Backstory The seventh bad habit of newer writers is perhaps the most recurring: too much backstory. Nearly half of the CraftFest instructors I interviewed identified this as the main problem they see in manuscripts. For instance, Karen Dionne, the author of the exciting environmental thriller, “Boiling Point,” and a member of ITW’s Board, said “the most common mistakes I see in manuscripts from new writers are overexplaining, and including too much backstory in the opening pages.” Dionne’s answer: “Trust the reader. Don’t explain every detail, and watch out for instances where you’ve said essentially the same thing twice. Remove all instances of backstory in the opening pages so that your story raises questions instead of answering them.”

Other CraftFest teachers—James Bruno, Lincoln Child, JT Ellison, Jamie Freveletti, Andrew Kaplan, Douglas Preston, and Alexandra Sokoloff—also offered some great advice on how to avoid the backstory problem. So much so, that I’m dedicating next month’s edition solely to addressing their views on backstory. Until then, want to learn more from these and other masters of suspense? Head over to CraftFest in New York on July 10-11. It could change your (writing) life. ■

*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 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), Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child (provided by authors), Richard North Patterson (Miranda Lewis), Anthony J. Franze (provided by author). Author Images (in order): David Morrell (Jennifer Esperanza), Gayle Lynds (www.gaylelynds.com), Linwood Bar- clay (Michael Rafelson), Catherine Coulter (provided by author’s representative), Stanley Trollip (provided by author’s representative), Steve Berry (Kelly Campbell), Leonardo Wild (provided by author), Jenny Milchman (provided by author), Brandt Dodson (provided by author), Steven James (provided by author’s representative), Karen Dionne (provided by author).

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  10 The Modern Spy Meet Matthew Dunn

By Suspense Magazine Photo Credit: Provided by Publisher

he old adage “write what you know,” has Tnever been more true than it is for author and former spy Matthew Dunn. An MI6 field officer for nearly six years, Matthew has created a new career for himself fictionalizing the reality of his previous position. Though fans of 007 will need to partially wipe the imagery that immediately comes to mind when thinking of the stars on screen— parties, amazing gadgets, fast cars, and even faster sexy, half-clad women—they’ll be equally entertained by Dunn’s approach. With a past brimming with tales of real deep cover, Matthew breathes life into Will Cochrane—MI6 and the CIA’s deadliest weapon—in his Spycatcher series. Here’s a taste of what you’ll find in his most recent release, “Slingshot”:

Cochrane is ordered to recover a mysterious document stolen by a Russian Foreign Intelligence Service (SRV) traitor working for a former high-ranking East German Stasi officer. The officer, years before, had instigated a secret pact between Russian and U.S. generals. The agreement stipulated that should it be broken, an assassin would immediately be set loose after an unknown target.

The SRV has sent their own version of Cochrane—a cold-blooded, brilliant operative—to retrieve the document, pitting spycatcher against spycatcher.

We hope you’ll enjoy the time we spent with Matthew as much as we did, learning the challenges he faces, his separation of fact and fiction, and what he has planned for the future.

SuspenseMagazine.com 11 “I’m the first ex-MI6 officer of my generation to write books under my own name. It’s garnered a huge amount of attention.” Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): Can you give us an inside look into your book “Slingshot” that can’t be found on the back cover?

Matthew Dunn (M.D.): Everything that happened in “Slingshot” was character-driven and that made for a wonderful writing experience. There are over twenty pivotal women and men in the story. Their actions and, in many cases, differing objectives all drove the direction of the tale. I knew what ending I wanted for the book, but juggling the agendas of these characters and getting to the ending was like playing a game of chess while trying to herd cats.

One of my favorite characters in the book is a German assassin, codename Kronos. He is a devoted father of twin boys. I got Kronos to the ending I wanted, but he outwitted me for most of the story and became a character I hadn’t originally envisaged.

S. MAG.: When did you realize you wanted to use your experience in the British Secret Intelligence to write a book?

M.D.: The truth is that writing took me into espionage, and espionage took me back into writing. At school, my favorite subject was creative writing—a subject that’s sadly no longer on the curriculum of most British schools—and I distinctly remember winning “best novella” award for a spy story I wrote. It fueled my imagination and made me want to experience the real secret world. Fifteen years later, I entered that world. During my time as a spy, I often thought, “It would be good to write about this life.” And here I am.

S. MAG.: What is your favorite book and why?

M.D.: Without doubt it is the complete works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes. If you read all of the works, as I have done many times, then you’re essentially following the professional lifetime of a brilliant, yet flawed, detective. It makes for fascinating reading. There are so many aspects of Doyle’s tales that I love, including the historical setting. Great Britain’s empire was at its zenith for the most part of Holmes’s life, and “class” and “knowing one’s place” were paramount. And yet, despite being a well-educated and groomed gentleman with a cut-glass accent, Holmes seemed to not only transcend all classes but in many ways stood outside the class system. There are more than a few hints in the books that suggest Holmes had more respect for the North American spirit of “anyone can do” than he did for the pomp and arrogance of Victorian Britain’s ruling elite.

S. MAG.: This is the third book in the Spycatcher series starring Will Cochrane. How has the journey been for you?

M.D.: It’s not been so much a learning curve but rather a vertical ascent up a sheer rock face. During the last three years, I’ve had to learn from my mistakes, learn from my publishers and agent and understand their industry, and ultimately put myself out there. I’m naturally a private guy so it’s been an odd process giving interviews and getting involved in marketing my books. The double whammy is that I’m the first ex-MI6 officer of my generation to write books under my own name. It’s garnered a huge amount of attention. I can’t complain because it was my decision to declare my background and real identity, and I did so for the obvious reason of publicity. However, it carries with it a huge burden of responsibility. I’m bound for life to The Official Secrets Act. If I write or say the wrong thing, the implications are obvious.

All of the above said, I can say with hand on heart that my experience of being a published author has been wonderful. I wouldn’t swap this job for anything else in the world.

S. MAG.: The beginning or the end of the book—which do you believe has more impact on the reader, but which is more difficult to write for the writer?

M.D.: The obvious answer is that the beginning and the end of the book should have tremendous impact on the reader, and therefore both have to be written with precision. But if I had to choose between the two, I’d say that the ending has the biggest impact. Readers invest a big chunk of their time following your story; authors have to give them an ending that rewards their

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  12 commitment to your book.

However, I think the journey between the beginning and ending is the hardest part to write. All writers have a duty to constantly engage their readers. It can be a mentally and emotionally tough process. But what a brilliant job! As my children say to me, “So Daddy, basically you wake up in the morning and then spend all day making stuff up.” In essence, they’re right.

S. MAG.: When writing a subject matter that is so close to home, do you find yourself emotionally connected to Will Cochrane?

M.D.: In all respects, Cochrane is a very hard character. I admit, he is a version of me, or at least the person I used to be. Putting his thoughts and emotions down on paper has been a difficult thing to do. In “Slingshot,” I really believe that I’ve found my groove to continue exploring his character in a way that doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I am emotionally connected to Will and he takes me back to some very dark and hazardous experiences and states of mind. Though he is at times surrounded by other people, he’s a lonely guy because he feels dislocated from the real world due to the nature of his job and his experiences.

S. MAG.: Will Cochrane is sitting in front of you—what would you like to ask him?

M.D.: I wouldn’t ask him anything. Instead, I’d take him for a beer and say, “Ten years from now, you can be married, have children, and lead a completely different life. Don’t lose sight of the possibility that can happen. When you retire from espionage, you’ll feel even more alone than you do right now. Don’t be frightened of that. Instead, every day make the effort to take small steps toward the normal world. But I’m not going to lie to you. The secret world may never leave your consciousness. Part of you may always be alone.”

S. MAG.: Would readers be shocked about how much is actually real in books, even though you have to keep it fiction?

M.D.: Yes, I believe so. You may on rare occasions hear about military actions conducted by special operations units, but—unless a traitor whistle blows details—you’ll have to wait decades to be privy to information about what an MI6 or CIA field operative has done in hostile locations overseas. I feel privileged to have worked alongside intelligence operatives who’ve conducted brilliant and utterly daring missions behind enemy lines. I can turn my experiences, and the experiences of other operatives, into fiction without breaching secrecy. But herein is the problem: If the public isn’t privy to the reality of contemporary espionage, how can readers judge whether a work of fiction is realistic or otherwise? History isn’t necessarily telling because a look back at the Cold War reveals a period that was an espionage slow-burn chess game. One day, the very different world of modern spying will fully come to light. In the interim, the nearest you can get to it is by reading authors who’ve served in that world.

S. MAG.: Do you suggest readers just finding out about you start with your first book “Spycatcher”?

M.D.: All of my published books are standalone novels and I make a point of recapping so that readers don’t have to read the books in order.

S. MAG.: What does the future hold for Matthew Dunn?

M.D.: HarperCollins (U.S.) has renewed my contract and has put an advance on the table for two more Spycatcher novels. So, the immediate future will no doubt involve lots of writing, more television and print and online interviews, and continuing to write newspaper articles.

Other projects are looming: I’ve been approached to star in a documentary about MI6, my Hollywood film agent is in advance talks with producers about the Spycatcher series, plus I’m fleshing out an idea for an espionage-related TV series.

But my heart is firmly in the Spycatcher series of novels, and I have so many ideas for future stories. Ideally, I’d like to take this series as far as it can go. That could easily be fifteen or twenty Will Cochrane adventures. Maybe more.

My future is therefore my past. It will be a very interesting journey.

We’d like to thank Matthew for taking his time to give us more insight into his life. For more information—and we highly recommend the interview section of his site—check out his website at: http://matthewdunnbooks.com. ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 13 Conquering the Dreaded Synopsis: A Series of Ten Lectures By Lisa Gardner Press Photo Credit: Philbrick Photography Lecture Six: Identifying Plot Points

After grabbing an editor’s interest with a strong opening, your next task in the short synopsis is to accurately—and entertainingly— summarize your 400-page magnum opus in the roughly two and a half pages you have left. No problem, right? After writing 400 pages, two and a half should be a piece of cake. Unfortunately, this is where many synopses fail. The writer succumbs to “laundry list” syndrome, cramming in one sentence for every scene of the novel, regardless of importance. This overwhelming level of detail suffocates voice and leaves the editor reeling. Or the studious writing goes off on tangents, describing secondary characters or minor research elements that aren’t crucial to understanding the core story. Or the author may have determined the right level of detail, but then transitions so roughly that the synopsis seems to leap randomly from point to point, lacking clear logic flow. Once again the editor becomes overwhelmed and stops reading. Why these problems occur is simple: The poor author is trying to reduce hundreds of pages into three, and she can’t decide what to leave in or what to leave out, so she includes a bit of everything. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work. You need to focus on the main plot points and turning points of the novel. Ignore secondary plots and characters. Forget about individual scenes. Just identify the major incidents that comprise the skeleton of your story. Of course, this leads to the logical question, but what are the key scenes in my novel? Many of us plot organically, and it’s only after the fact that we can examine each scene of our novel to determine which ones are essential to the development of the story, and which ones we simply love. (And if you’re reading this now thinking, oh, but all of my scenes are essential to the story, only an idiot includes nonessential book scenes, refer to the laundry list syndrome mentioned above. Not all scenes in a novel are of equal importance. It’s a fact. Move on.) To help identify major plot points, I’ve broken my first two suspense novels, “The Perfect Husband” (TPH) and “The Other Daughter” (TOD), into key plot points and turning points. Hopefully, analyzing these outlines will help you identify the main plot points in your own novel. Some caveats: This analysis will make more sense if you’ve read the two books, as one point of this exercise is understanding all the stuff I leaveout of the outline. Also, the outlines give away substantial information about

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  14 the novels, which will ruin the suspense if you haven’t read the books yet. Finally, the reason I outlined both books is that they represent two different kinds of suspense. TPH is a classic thriller novel, whereas TOD is a mystery novel. In a thriller, we know who the bad guy is, so the suspense is derived by how you catch him. Thrillers rely heavily on action, the cat and mouse chase between protagonist and antagonist. If you have a thriller novel, you must have at least a few clever turning points where the book heads a new direction, as we will see reflected in the outline of TPH. A mystery, on the other hand, derives its suspense from who did it. Mystery novels generally have a large cast of characters so there will be plenty of suspects. Also, they rarely have many action sequences, but instead must get out new pieces of the puzzle (new information on the crime) to keep the book moving forward. The plot points may appear subtler, as there is less overt action. Instead, big revelations serve as major plot points and/or turning points in the novel. With that background, let’s begin. Major Plot Points: “The Perfect Husband” Premise: Mysterious woman (Tess) attempts to hire an ex-mercenary (J.T.) to teach her how to protect herself and her child from homicidal ex-husband (Jim Beckett).

Plot Point 1: Ex-mercenary finally agrees to help damsel in distress, even though he’s sworn off damsels in distress— particularly ones who won’t give him their real names.

Plot Point 2: Homicidal ex-husband infiltrates police task force to learn status of investigation; leaves them a pointed message (dead body) that he’s still interested in finding his wife and capable of using the cops to do it.

Plot Point 3: Ex-mercenary’s sister learns woman’s true identity and involves the local police to do so, possibly compromising the woman’s safety. All fear Jim Beckett will head to Arizona and Tess is nowhere near ready.

Turning Point 1: Jim Beckett does not head to Arizona. He heads to central Massachusetts where he kills a cop and kidnaps his own daughter. Police mobilize in an even bigger way…but Jim Beckett is nowhere to be found. (I call this a turning point, because the book just fundamentally shifted. Readers have been expecting Jim to track down Tess in Arizona, but instead he’s gone after his daughter and raised the stakes in a major way.)

Plot Point 4: Tess returns to Massachusetts against all advice. Jim Beckett promptly attacks Tess and J.T. at the crime scene. Only J.T.’s excellent 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 in their old house, knowing that Beckett cannot resist the challenge of coming after her. Once and for all, it will be done. (This is another turning point because again the book has shifted. Tess is taking control, setting the stage for a showdown.)

Resolution: Jim Beckett comes after Tess. Killing an FBI agent first downtown, then taking out one of the rooftop snipers, he splits the protective task force, and descends upon his terrified wife. J.T. however, surprises the man from behind. Beckett winds up dead, Samantha is found. Family reunited.

Now, anyone who has read the book knows it was way more involved than this. I barely mention Marion (J.T.’s sister) though she’s a key part of the novel. I don’t have room. I never mention the police POV—Special Agent Quincy, Lieutenant Difford, and the rest who carry substantial scenes. I don’t have room. I’m looking just at key action points from the protagonist/ antagonist POV. The approach is bare-bones, but it also leads to a concise logic flow. A strong, clear logic flow is extremely important. I can’t emphasize that enough. Major Plot Points: “The Other Daughter” Premise: Melanie Stokes believes she is leading the perfect life. Twenty years ago she was abandoned at a Massachusetts hospital, drugged and with no memory. That was a long time ago, however, and she rarely thinks about it anymore. Promptly adopted by a well-respected surgeon and his wife, Melanie has grown up in the lap of luxury. She is doted on by her parents, adored by her adopted brother, and spoiled by her godfather. At the age of twenty-nine, she feels she is probably the luckiest person in the world. Until tonight.

SuspenseMagazine.com 15 Plot Point 1: A tabloid reporter arrives at the Stokes’s residence. Getting Melanie alone, he declares that he has proof that she is the daughter of a Texas serial killer, Russell Lee Holmes. Holmes was executed for the murder of six young children the same night Melanie was abandoned in the MA hospital. And one of the children Holmes allegedly killed was Melanie’s adoptive parent’s first daughter, Meagan. Melanie does not believe the reporter and sends him away.

Plot Point 2: The next day, Melanie comes home to an unpleasant surprise—an altar at the foot of her bed containing 55 votive candles spelling a single name: Meagan. In the middle rests one of Meagan’s old toys. It was last seen the day she died.

Plot Point 3: Melanie pays a visit to the tabloid reporter, wanting to see his proof. Before Melanie can get more details, however, the tabloid reporter is shot dead. Melanie just manages to take cover, before the gunman grabs the reporter’s notebooks and runs.

Turning Point 1: Now a witness to a homicide, Melanie ends up in protective custody. For reasons that are not clear to Melanie, the FBI are also interested in her case. Fortunately, Special Agent David Riggs agrees to pull the FBI case file on Russell Lee Holmes. To their surprise, his request for information generates a personal phone call from Quantico’s leading profiler, Pierce Quincy. Quincy has recently read the file, and to his expert eye, the Meagan Stokes murder was clearly a copycat crime—not the work of Russell Lee Holmes. Worse, he believes the likely suspects for Meagan’s murder are her own family members—Harper, Patricia, and Brian Stokes. (Remember this is a turning point because the book is now obviously headed in a different direction.)

Plot Point 4: Melanie and David research Meagan Stokes in earnest. They learn Meagan’s murder garnered the Stokes one million dollars in life insurance. Also, Patricia and Harper Stokes were having marital problems as well; Harper liked to sleep around and Patricia retaliated with an affair of her own—with Harper’s best friend and Melanie’s godfather, Jamie O’Donnell. Last but not least, Melanie’s brother Brian was seeing a therapist in the 1970s. He had been so mean to his little sister that he was not allowed to be alone with her. Definitely, there were a lot of people with possible motive to hurt Meagan Stokes. Quincy and David now believe Melanie may honestly be the daughter of Russell Lee Holmes. Possibly, her parents agreed to adopt her in return for Russell Lee Holmes confessing to the murder of Meagan Stokes, finally ending the police investigation. Melanie can’t believe her parents would do such a thing, but she is beginning to wonder. Maybe the hired gun can tell them more…

Plot Point 5: Hired gun turns up dead. No clues.

Plot Point 6: Melanie returns home against David’s advice. When she tries to question her family about the past, however, she and Harper end up in a violent argument. He slaps her, then storms away. Melanie doesn’t know what to believe anymore.

Turning Point 2: Next morning when Melanie comes downstairs, she finds her father’s business associate in the study, rifling through papers. When she confronts William, he pulls a gun and demands to know the combination of Harper’s safe. In bits and pieces, Melanie learns that her father has been committing healthcare fraud—hence the FBI’s interest in her; they have been investigating her father. William babbles about how little she really knows about her parents. Melanie and William end up in a struggle. The gun goes off. William falls dead. Melanie has killed a man and all she can wonder is if Russell Lee Holmes would approve.

Plot Point 7: David receives a call from Melanie that she’s just killed William in self-defense. She will not be around for questioning, however. She’s taking matters in her own hands. Goodbye. David races to the scene to find that the healthcare squad’s main witness is now dead, Harper is accusing his daughter of the crime, and Patricia looks on the verge of collapse. She wants to know if anyone has told Brian yet about the shooting. The police respond that they can’t find Brian Stokes. A friend declared him missing twenty-four hours ago.

Plot Point 8: Frantic and scared, David tracks Melanie to Huntsville, Texas, the last home of Russell Lee Holmes. Melanie is trying to learn everything she can about her father and she is destroying herself bit by bit. Everything about her life is a lie. She is merely a substitute for a murdered daughter. David tells her it’s not that simple yet. He believes in her. He will help her find the truth.

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  16 Turning Point 3: Together, they track down the midwife who had delivered Russell Lee Holmes’s child. Melanie confesses to the woman that she is Russell Lee Holmes’s daughter and she wants to find out what happened twenty-five years ago. The midwife, however, is stunned. Russell Lee Holmes did not have a daughter, she informs Melanie. Russell Lee Holmes had a son…

Okay, I won’t give you the resolution because that ruins the whole book and frankly, I’m mean. Needless to say, this outline is running long and that’s because this book is 500 pages (115,000 words) so condensing it down is even more difficult. To give you some sense of what I left out, the complete novel involves ten different points of view. We spend time with the mom, the dad, the brother, the godfather, the reporter, etc. The hero is introduced right away and has a compelling backstory. I didn’t include any of that here because then I definitely couldn’t cover the outline in three pages. Subplots include a shadowy figure that is sending everyone notes saying you get what you deserve. Patricia Stokes, by the way, is a recovering alcoholic. The book spends a lot of time on her complex relationship with her husband, as well as Jamie O’Donnell. Other subplots are that Melanie’s brother, Brian, was kicked out of the family six months ago for declaring that he is gay. This starts to play into the police’s suspicion of why someone contacted the reporter now. Oh, and Melanie’s best friend Ann Margaret is relevant, and William isn’t just Harper’s business associate, he’s also Melanie’s ex-fiancé. See, left that all out and probably confused you by putting it here. That’s why I left it out. It’s extraneous stuff, the meat on the bones, and for three pages, you just want BONES. Keep to a singular POV if that helps. Focus on primary scenes, nothing else. Bottom line—we’re back to KISS. Conclusion Identifying the key plot points in your novel will enable you to properly focus your short—and long—synopsis. If you have been creating synopses that are confusing, flat, or overwhelming, look at the level of detail you are trying to include. It’s always better to say a few things well, than many things badly. Next up, we’re going to look at two possible outlines to help you organize your bold hook and brilliant plot points into a nice, neat, highly marketable, package. ■

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 17 The Hilcove Atrocity

By Justin Guleserian I used for five years, without scene we could hope for at Hilcove. We all readied a smile, a hitch. Of course, my habit didn’t get serious until trimmed our goddamn toenails, and went out to rub elbows the last couple years. I finally lost my job. I was disbarred. at the canal. That spelled very bad news for me, because it’s an expensive It was there, in the canal, that I first saw Elise. She was habit, you know. Not as bad as coke, mind you, but still a poor and came from poor inner-city stock, like most of the pretty penny. I sold my house. It was a seller’s market, so I Hilcove residents. Of course, with a face like hers, she could did all right. My dealer was fair with me, too. I lied and told have gone straight uptown. But she wanted to hide, away him that I planned to move out of the city, and he cut me a from her father. She came to Hilcove to forget and to be wholesale deal. I bought enough junk to last me through the forgotten. We would never forget that sad-angel face of hers. spring and moved here, to Hilcove Apartments, room one Elise loved the water. Loved it. She would wade in the twenty-six, to live in absentia for as long as I could afford. canal twice a day, like clockwork. Maybe she felt cleaner in This place. I can’t think about it without feeling like I’ve the water. I don’t know. But the rest of us, the men especially, stumbled into a junk-sick dream. I don’t know who built took a very sudden and very strong interest in Hilcove’s it, but he must have hated humanity. Three stories of units canal. Of course, most of us never stood a chance. I never stacked like warehouse crates, caged by tarnished-brass stood a chance. What does a forty-year-old junky have to balcony railings. Red doors with brass numbers and glass offer a pretty young girl like that, except a bunch of stories peepholes. The arched roof is lost in shadow. Hilcove had from better times? But I liked to be around her, all the same. been built over a canal that runs down the middle, between She was the one thing at Hilcove that didn’t seem used up, the two rows of studios, entering and leaving through rusted even if she felt otherwise. iron grates. It makes me wonder whether that arched roof The younger guys would wade with her. The older ones has always been there, or whether there was a time when would just sit poolside in shorts and t-shirts. Of course, I the sun glinted off our brass railings and set the canal’s had to wear long-sleeves so my tracks didn’t show. I wore water sparkling. But we’re boxed up pretty well now. Even a turtleneck because I thought it made me look vaguely the canal. The water is clean enough, but its depth makes it sophisticated. To that end, I always had a book with me. appear black in the florescent light. Pathetic, I know. But it was a fair way to start a conversation. I’d You forget what daylight looks like in here. The only found the book under the bed, when I first moved in. It was a windows are these panes on either side of the building’s strange one and looked like it was typed on an old typewriter entrance, these narrow slits from which light can only bleed. and bound by hand. It was all about astral projection, which I still can’t believe it. No daylight! Who built the thing? So, is when a person has an out-of-body experience on purpose. days and nights run together in a mosaic blur. You might Of course, I’ve left my body three times a day since my habit venture out, but the moment you return, it’s like the outside got serious, but it was still good to have that book to stick my never was. You only remember Hilcove. I don’t think I ever nose into for when some young buck was flirting with Elise ventured out once after I signed the lease. I had nowhere to and I didn’t want to watch. go. Looking at the sorry faces around here, I guessed that And the women! Oh, those poor ladies. Some of the most of them didn’t either. Hilcove women would wade in the canal and vainly try to Our complex has few amenities. There’s a general store. win back the interest of their men. They were so obvious. A laundry room. Somebody once mentioned a gym, but Once, when a man dragged his eyes off Elise, I noticed one I’ve never seen it and wouldn’t step inside if I had. There’s of the women stretching for him, baring her underarms, swimming, though. The canal. For most of us here, the human pulling her breasts above water, as she let out the prettiest race is like the dysfunctional family that we feel obligated to sigh a mother could teach her daughter. Some of the guys visit on holidays. So the canal was the closest thing to a social took a glance, but it was only a moment before our attention returned to Elise. Before long, most of the women gave up

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  18 swimming when Elise was in the canal. They would pass by few feet from my door, and pass on without stepping on the the men, on the way to do laundry, and mutter some catty smoking butt. My eyes shot open, and I felt the unwelcome trash about Elise that we all heard but never acknowledged. but familiar sensation of my limbs, trembling in the sweat- I think some of the men, too, tasted bitterness after a soaked sheets of my bed. Despite the realism of my visions, while. We didn’t talk about it, but I believe it was there. None I could never be certain that what I saw was not just in my of us would win Elise. She wasn’t here for us. And even if own head. But here was a way to prove that my nightly some buck got lucky, what good was that to the rest of us? journeys were more than a fever-dream. I struggled out of Once in a while I’d take my gaze off Elise and look at one of bed as quickly as I could, draped the covers over my quaking the older crows. He’d just shoot me back a familiar look of shoulders, and made for the door. I must have looked like a resignation, as if to say, hey, what are we supposed to do? mad man, poking my frantic head out the door in the middle What were we supposed to do? We were supposed to walk of the night, half-naked, shivering, searching the ground for away. We were supposed to have gone about our business, a cigarette butt. But I found it. It was still smoking. Suddenly, gone after something that might actually yield some kind of I saw a way that I could get closer to Elise. good in our lives. Maybe if we had, Elsie would still be alive. # But we didn’t. I didn’t. I just kept my nose in that book and Three months after I began, I hoped for things I couldn’t admit to hoping. was ready. On the chosen night, I left my body and The book. Maybe it was my boredom, my need to escape made for the canal. The golden light was shining brightly, my own addicted flesh, but I actually started to believe that illuminating everything around me, as my ghost passed it was possible for a spirit to leave its body while the body through the grain of my studio’s door and floated above the remained living. No, not just possible…natural. It was as if I walkway. To fly. I cannot describe my surprise and elation saw, within the riddled verses and the spidery lines of those when I first discovered that I was no longer bound by gravity. strange hand-drawn diagrams, directions to a place just on At first my flight was uncertain, not like a fledgling, who will the other side of town, a place I’d always known was there. I’d beats its wings in a frenzy to stay aloft, but like a balloon, seen the ads, read the reviews. I’d just never shelled out the which might be blown too easily by the breezes that resulted cab fare to check it out for myself. It was there, though. It had from my poor concentration. By turns, my flight grew more always been there. certain. I was able to soar higher and faster without feeling I began to practice, at night, before I went to bed. At first that my buoyancy was any less sure. And then I was free, a my training was a half-hearted experiment, like an atheist holy ghost sailing through a cathedral to sound of blessed who prays just to make sure no one will respond. My attitude hymns. The filthy doors and their brass numbers became as changed pretty quickly in the weeks that followed. Before stained glass and the canal was as a nave. long, I was doing the exercises, every night. I would close As I brought my vision down to the canal, to its dark my eyes and visualize the room that I occupied. The image and watery mirror, I saw a sight that surely would’ve made of the room was a tenuous thing, infirm, an ever-changing my heart leap, were my body nearby. I saw the source of the phantom. Then, I began to see the golden light. The light golden light. It was me. My soul. My spirit. I appeared to made everything solid, illuminating the room before my myself as a golden vapor, sleek and bright, free of scars, free closed eyes with a pale and bleary flickering. At first, the of used-up flesh and collapsed veins. I wished, then, that I illumination grew dimmer, the farther I traveled from my had eyes to weep. You must understand that to use, to poison body, and I couldn’t go more than few feet before I was yourself everyday for years, knowing the same blood that standing in an impenetrable murk. It was terrible, being in carries your life also carries the poison, with every breath, that murk, without ground to stand on or feet to stand with. with every single heartbeat—well, you can’t help but think I could never stay in the dark for more than few moments that maybe your spirit is rotting right alongside your flesh. before I fled back to my body, where the exercise would start Yet here was golden light, pure and unsullied, lighting my over again. By turns, I could drift farther and farther from path like the wisdom of a saint. For the first time I felt that my body without losing my sight. perhaps I was as worthy as anyone to win Elise. Why not? I realized that I could go farther when I was junk sick And, if she didn’t want me, so what? At least it would not be and sweating with the chilling fever of withdrawals. I started due to a rotten soul. fixing earlier in the evening, so that I was good and sick by When I came upon Elise, I instinctively stopped in my bedtime. It was almost unbearable, feeling that sickness and flight and hovered above the canal, watching her. She snuck knowing that relief was just a few feet away on the coffee out every night to wade alone, free of her entourage, their table. But if I could hold it together long enough to see the insistent stares and their probing remarks, like eager hands golden light, I would be freed from my sick flesh and leave grasping at her wrists. Nobody knew she came out to bathe my shivering body behind for a while. at night. I knew. I had once gone to do laundry in the small One night, I made it as far as the door, all the way across hours. When I approached her alcove, she had ducked the studio from where my body lay. I peered out through underwater, the darling. I couldn’t blame her, even then. It the peephole and saw an old woman drop a cigarette, just a hurt like hell, of course, to see her duck down like that. But

SuspenseMagazine.com 19 she wouldn’t have to hide this time. There would be nothing needed all my strength of mind to hold myself together. I was to hide from, nothing to touch her but golden light. a dervish of rage and fear and sickness. I vomited in a waste She looked so goddamn beautiful, I tell you, sitting there, basket and felt a little better, well enough to grab my shotgun her platinum hair slicked back along her neck. I floated and wrap my sorry frame in a raincoat. timidly toward her, instinctively fearing to disturb her, as A minute later, I was walking along the canal toward two I had on that first night. And I noticed how unassuming, sixteen, glad there was no one around. Mind you, I had no how unaffected, her expression seemed now. The mask had delusions of avoiding a murder charge, but if anyone has seen dropped. She looked at peace in way that I had never seen her me walking like that, with my hand held inside my coat and before now. Perhaps, at these times, alone with the calming my pajama pants sticking out the bottom, they might have plip, plip,plip of the canal’s dark water, she was able to escape figured something was up and decided to play hero. Same even the terrors that drove her to Hilcove. And I, free of my as I was doing. But nobody was there to see me, and before carnal bonds, was filled with a magnanimous compassion, long I was standing right in front of two sixteen with a loaded and content to simply hover beside her, enjoying her beauty, shotgun in my hot little hands. bathing her in golden light. She took a deep breath through I didn’t bother to knock. I was pretty weak still, and it parted lips and sighed, and I wondered if my light, though took a few kicks before the door gave way. When it did finally apparently invisible to her, had in some way elicited that fly open, I wished I had just called the police and let them be sigh from her. I was curious. Could she sense me, after all? the ones to need therapy. It was an abomination: On the floor Playing a hunch, I drew closer and saw a relaxed smile spread of a wholly unfurnished apartment, sat a woman so morbidly across her face. I was inches from her, could almost feel her obese that her corpulence, rather than suggesting over- calm and steady breath, when I suddenly heard the sickening nourished life, suggested only death. In fact, her flesh was crack and saw her head loll horribly upon her pretty bare not plump at all. It hung from her frame like warmed wax, shoulders. so that at first glance, she actually appeared to be melting. It I felt myself scatter. With my concentration lost, my could only be black magic keeping her alive. No human heart vaporous spirit utterly dispersed. I saw only blackness and could pump blood hard enough to reach the capillaries on the was near certain that, in a moment, I would awake in my edges of those monstrous folds. Her skin appeared gray, even fevered body. It was only by a supreme effort of will that I held bluish. For all its abundance, it was dying. Only her eyes still my presence together in that spot long enough to reassemble flared with terrible life, burning from within dark circles, and itself. When I could again see the golden light shine upon sunken despite the fleshy curtains of her drooping face. The the scene, I knew that the snap I’d heard had been no smell. The rank odor was something simply indescribable. To hallucination. Elise was dead, her neck broken. Frantically, I make things worse, I had to squeeze the stock and barrel of shot my glance about until, from a nearby patch of shadow, I my shotgun to keep my hands from shaking when I noticed saw another light begin to brighten. A sickening light spilled small stones, glimmering gems, like diamonds, slowly and from a thick and coiling cloud of violet and black. The cloud silently orbiting her head. A devil’s diadem. The diamonds had eyes. It had eyes. Every impulse I felt was shouting at me just floating there and circling like worshippers. to turn away from that sight. But something made me look. “You must live in one twenty-six,” she croaked. “I used And I saw. Set in the midst of this violet vapor, at what might to live in that one, many years ago. I see you found my book. most easily described as its front, were a pair of eyelids, I always wondered what became of it. Glad you enjoyed behind which hovered two sickly green eyes, a woman’s eyes, it. Didn’t save your precious Elise, though. Didn’t save her filled with unfathomable hate. Yes, a woman’s eyes. To look pretty neck. Oh, Elise. A lovely girl. Just lovely.” upon those eyes, I knew, this was no conjured devil. This was The witch’s jowls shook with mirthless laughter. a person, like me, but with a spirit that was infinitely fouler. I “Whatever will you boys do with your time, now?” looked upon the astral projection of a witch. I let my shotgun answer. Yet, as I fired, I noticed one of It glared at me a moment longer before turning those the diamonds speed off from its orbit. It was almost too quick eyes away and shooting off, down the corridor, over the canal. to see. Just a glint of light and then a sharp blow to my chest. With the eyes no longer fixed on me, I felt my courage return, I looked down and saw that I was bleeding. Badly. There was and with it, my outrage. In a moment, I was off, chasing the no pain. No pain from a diamond bullet. I tossed the gun dark vapor. Faster, I flew. The doors fused in a red blur as I aside and hit the floor. sped. I knew I only had to keep sight of dark vapor, to see My shot will bring curious neighbors, and they, in turn, where it led, to see where its body hid. Finally, as we neared will bring police and an ambulance. But I feel my life’s blood the iron grate through which the canal’s water exits, the witch flow from my chest, and I doubt there’s enough life in this vapor veered and flew through a door. Two sixteen. Room used-up body to see me through the night. It’s all right. I two sixteen. know there’s a golden light at the center of it. One that even I forced my mind to slacken, my concentration to relax, cursed diamonds can’t outshine. and so my own projection dispersed. I awoke in my body, But poor Elise. Poor kid. We should’ve walked away. We swimming in my sweat, shaking with chills. Now, again, I all should’ve just walked away. ■

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  20 On sale in july! Devil In The Hole

ADvAnce PrAIse “in this smartly constructed crime novel...the result is not a finished portrait but an intriguing collage of impressions and personal perspectives for the reader to ponder.” — Publisher’s Weekly

“...a fine piece of crime writing and a hell of a fun read.” — reed Farrel coleman, 3-time shamus award winning author of Gun Church

“...a haunting meditation on the thin, wavering line between sense and senselessness.” — Kaylie Jones, Lies My Mother Never Told Me

“...the overall effect is like slowly opening a Beautifully wrapped box of poisoned chocolates.” — Tim McLoughlin, editor Brooklyn Noir

By Charles salzberg, the author of Swann’s Last Song and Swann Dives In

E Published by Five Star, available in leading book stores and online at Amazon and Barns&Noble By CK Webb This month we find ourselves at number eight on my list of favorite books that became my favorite movies. 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 screenplay writer and director actually READ the book). 3. And finally, I always look for story and character development on the part of the screenwriter that makes the book/film better. # 8 THE CHILDREN OF MEN

Now, before anyone sends me hate mail for totally going against my very own guidelines, let me explain why. First off, sometimes a movie comes along that, even though it doesn’t conform to the book, manages to become a wonderful film in spite of itself. Or sometimes, that film even becomes better than the book, though not very often. And then there are those rare times when a movie simply jumps from the big screen and grabs hold of you so solidly, that you toss all rules to the side and embrace your inner rebel! “The Children of Men” is that book/film for me. “The Children of Men” is a dystopian novel written by P.D. James and published in 1992 by Knopf/Random House. Set in an England in 2021, far removed from the one we are familiar with, “The Children of Men” shows us a world where mankind has become sterile and the entire human race hangs in the balance. The narrative for the novel alternates between first and third person, making it stand out in its very mechanics. It was exactly this style of alternating narrative that caused some readers to dislike the novel. The novel opens with a journal entry, recounted the events that Credit: Universal Studios brought mankind to this place.

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  22 In 1994, all the sperm counts of all human males fell to zero, meaning the imminent extinction of the race. In the year 1995, or “Year Omega,” the last people who were born are now called “Omegas.” Considered a race apart from all the others, Omegas enjoy certain amenities and accommodations that aren’t given to others. In the opening lines we learn that the last human to be born on Earth has just died in a pub brawl. Described as spoiled, hateful, and egotistical, the Omegas are violent and unstable. They often regard the non-Omegas or elders with disgust and contempt, but their crimes go unpunished because of their age. In the novel, it is even rumored that other countries sacrifice Omegas in fertility rituals. In the book, due to mankind’s infertility, newborn domesticated animals are doted upon and treated as infants in this new society. The courts still exist. Defendants are now tried by a judge and two magistrates. All convicted criminals are abandoned at a penal colony on the Isle of Man. There is no restitution, escape is a certain impossibility, visitors are strictly forbidden, and prisoners may not write or receive letters. Every citizen is required to learn skills they might need to help them survive if they happen to be among the last human beings in Britain. The book received positive reviews from many critics and readers alike and has remained one of the most controversial and widely read books of our time. The film version of the book was released in theaters in 2006 and is a dystopian science fiction film co-written, co-edited, and directed by Alfonso Cuarón. It is loosely based on the novel. In the film adaptation, the year is 2027 and two decades of human infertility have brought mankind to its knees. Illegal immigrants are flocking to England in hopes of seeking sanctuary in the United Kingdom, where the last functioning government in the world imposes oppressive immigration laws on refugees. Clive Owen plays the protagonist, civil servant Theo Faron, who is compelled to help pregnant West African refugee Clare-Hope Ashitey safely escapes the chaos. Children of Men also stars Julianne Moore, Michael Caine, Pam Ferris, and Chiwetel Ejiofor. In spite of the film’s limited release and low earnings at the box office, Children of Men still managed to receive global critical acclaim and was also recognized for its miraculous achievements in screenwriting, cinematography, art direction, and innovative, single-shot action sequences. Children of Men was nominated for three Academy Awards for Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Cinematography, and Best Film Editing. It was also nominated for three BAFTA Awards. The film won awards for Best Cinematography and Best Production Design, and three Saturn Awards including, Best Science Fiction Film. P.D. James was reported to have been pleased with the film, leading to the screenwriters ofChildren of Men being awarded the 19th annual USC Scripter Award for their screen adaptation of the novel. Howard A. Rodman, the chairman of the USC School of Cinematic Arts Writing Division, described the book-to-screen adaptation as “writing and screen writing of the highest order,” although he noted the screenplay bore very little resemblance to the novel as it pertains to the gender of the baby born in the book, the character who was pregnant in the book, and also as it pertains to the death of Theo, who in actuality, does not die in the novel. The film was also nominated in the category of Best Adapted Screenplay at the 79th Academy Awards, placing it in an elite category with other films that have enjoyed back-to-back nominations. The Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy & Horror Films bestowed the Saturn Award for Best Science Fiction Film for Children of Men, and it received the nomination for Best Dramatic Presentation, Long Form by the members of the World Science Fiction Convention. In the end, I watched the movie my first time and frowned a bit at the vast differences from the book to the film. But it would be my need to give almost every movie a second try that brought me around. Eventually, I watched the film a couple more times before I knew emphatically that somehow, THIS film was better than the book had been. I will end by saying that though I love the film and the book for completely different reasons, it is because of one that I have the other and therefore I thank you, P.D. James for your incredibly vivid imagination and your willingness to share that with the rest of the world! However you discover this haunting tale, whether by book or by film, I am certain you will add it to your list of all-time favorites!

Remember… Somewhere, someone is ALWAYS getting away with murder! ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 23 Getting into your historical characters

POV By Ric Wasley sing historical characters as a backstory for your suspense/mystery is a popular and proven successful Uliterary device to add depth, clues, and perspective to your story. It’s also a great way to set up a compelling premise for the mystery and has been used with great success by numerous authors from Dan Brown to Alfred Hitchcock. Hitch was of course, the one who gave the name MacGuffin to whatever was the object of a story’s quest. For instance, in the movie version of The Maltese Falcon, Gutman, played by Sidney Greenstreet, explains to Bogey—Sam Spade—the ominous history of the “Black Bird” and what the cost of the pursuit has been in human lives. Think of how diminished the suspense would have been had Dashiell Hammett not used that historical backstory and decided to make the MacGuffin, say, a bag of cash from a local liquor store heist. It is the romance and danger surrounding the history of the Falcon that gives the story its tingling edge. But often you’ll run across historical characters and events who, whether as backstory foils or main protagonists, seem lifeless and two-dimensional. Worse yet, sometimes they appear anachronistic—almost as though a Hester Prynne type of character had decided to update that dreary old scarlet letter by taking a trip to the local Salem mall. Admittedly, it is difficult for authors to put themselves in a different time and place when events, mores, and behavior were far different. After all, every time and culture views the past through the prism of their own Zeitgeist, and we today are no exception. And even though we have come to a more enlightened view on things like race, gender, sexual orientation, and even children, projecting this enlightened view into a story robs it of its impact. For instance, suppose that an author was writing a Dickensian tale and chose to have a caring social worker intercede in helping Oliver Twist get that extra bowl of gruel—or OSHA coming down on Simon Legree for deplorable working conditions. That would certainly make us feel better, but would it make for powerful reading? Probably not. So what is the answer? Obviously, it is incumbent for authors to leave modern sensibilities here in the present and submerge themselves as much as possible into the period they’re writing about. Think of it as an imagination-powered time machine. But while imagination is the touchstone of a writer’s craft, too much of it can cloud the water when writing of another period. Because it’s not enough to get the framework of the history correct. A novel lives on in its characters. Thus, while the hard facts of names, dates, and events must be correct, they don’t mean a thing if the characters you create are not truly products of their time and not ours. So how do you get into that historical character’s head? The most direct way possible: by accessing the same things that real historical characters used to express their own personal thoughts and feelings: letters, diaries, and journals. When I first started doing research for the historical flashbacks in my paranormal mystery, “Echoes Down aDark Well”—and more recently, a full-blown historical mystery called “Candle in the Wind”—I began by using those musty old records that libraries euphemistically refer to as “the stacks.” And as every writer who’s ever used them knows, these are the books that look and smell like they haven’t been opened in a hundred years—and most of them haven’t. But often, they hold the key to making your historical characters and setting ring with that elusive tone of authenticity. As I found out when doing, “Echoes Down a Dark Well,” a backstory that spans two thousand years, finding first-person records and accounts is difficult. Most of what you get for personal observation prior to the sixteenth or seventeenth century is actually written by a third party chronicling events after the fact. There are of course, some famous first-person diaries and journals; for instance, the diary of Samuel Pepys or Caesar’s Commentaries. This means that the author needs to fill in more of color to develop believable and complex characters from pre-sixteenth-century settings.

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  24 One of the things I enjoy most about writing historical mysteries is uncovering some little known event or item mentioned in a journal or newspaper; then using that information and a knowledge of the period to imagine what it must have been like to experience that. Then once I’ve worked that out in my notes and research, I set my characters with their own individual personalities, into that scene and let the reader experience that event through them. And if we do it right, we will hopefully avoid the historical writer’s greatest hazard: anachronisms. It seems that those little buggers are lurking around the corners every time we engage our characters in action or dialogue. And they are usually not as blatant as a protagonist who walks up to Henry Ford rolling off his first Model T and comments, “Dude. Nice ride.” Were it so, they’d be easy for authors and editors to catch. Alas, the types of anachronism that creeps into the story and leaves us feeling uneasy without knowing why are harder to spot. Why? Because they migrate unseen and unnoticed from our minds and creep into the story without us being consciously aware of it. And the reason they are so hard to detect is because they bleed onto the page from our personal Zeitgeist and subtly color the world and thoughts of our major characters. This is especially true when it comes to characters’ thoughts and actions in dealing with the social mores of the period they are in. Most writers and readers are well aware that the way in which we view and interact with the world is radically different than in almost every previous age. For instance, our views on things like the role of women in society, children, religion, race, ethnicity, and slavery, just to name a few, are more different now than they have been at any time in human history. That means that to portray a historical period accurately, the writer is going to have to go against the grain of everything we believe in now. For example, take slavery. Up until 150 years ago, almost every person of every race and ethnicity on every continent accepted it as a natural part of life. Remember that man had been enslaving his fellow man since the first tribe conquered its rival and decided that it would be kind of nice to make the other guy do your heavy lifting. Rome built the first world empire on it. So if you were trying to portray, say, a protagonist living in the eighteenth century, you would have to divorce yourself from your modern viewpoint of how wrong it was, and put yourself in the perspective of someone who’d been raised to believe that it was the natural order of things. Thus, unless the character was a nascent abolitionist, their viewpoint would not include the thoughts of equality that we take for granted today. Sounds basic, right? But it’s harder than we think to leave our core beliefs in the twenty-first century and jump into a virtual time machine to where people behaved in ways that are an anathema to us today. That’s why I think the best way to avoid this pitfall is to create your characters from sources taken from the actual period. Whenever I’m doing a historical book or story, I like to begin by immersing myself in journals, diaries, letters, and firsthand accounts from the period. Legends and sagas can be useful since even if they were created after the fact, they will produce a far more revealing viewpoint than our own. After all, while we might not see much to laud in ancient swordsmen chopping their enemies into small pieces, the society that produced the saga, legend, song, or even fairy tale saw it differently. For instance, Hansel and Gretel’s father didn’t abandon them in the woods because he lacked proper parenting skills. It was because he couldn’t feed them! So even a fairy tale can give an insight on a period before there was any kind of social safety net, making an action that’s unconscionable today into a practical, if sad, part of life. And up until the twentieth century, how many men who were considered good, decent, and pillars of the community looked upon their wives and daughters in a way that we would consider patronizing, chauvinistic, and just plain wrong today? And yet they did. It happened. And for every John Adams who took it seriously and welcomed his wife Abigail’s admonishment to “remember the ladies,” there were millions who did not. But that’s why it’s so important to portray our characters as realistically as possible within the context of their time and culture. Because by doing so, we as authors have the privilege of letting the world glimpse another era and in doing so, gain a better understanding and appreciation of how the viewpoint of our modern world evolved. Or to paraphrase an old commercial from the late twentieth century, which even now seems almost like another era, “we’ve come a long way baby.” And thanks to writers like us, we know just how far! ■

A member of Mystery Writers of America and the Cape Cod Writers Group, Ric Wasley is a writer and lecturer as well as the author of the popular McCarthy mystery series set in Boston in 1968.

Ric has a forty year professional career history in advertising, publishing, and marketing in Boston, New York, and San Francisco. He has degrees in history and psychology and has been trained in debating, public speaking, and stage acting. A large part of his forty year career was spent in numerous professional and business settings as a presenter and featured speaker at seminars and professional meetings. He also teaches a popular course on marketing for authors at prominent venues such as the venerable “Cape Cod Writers Conference.”

For more information, check out his website at www.ricwasley.com.

SuspenseMagazine.com 25 By Thomas Scopel ith his normal route closed for noticed at all. Wconstruction, James needed a Did a person really need a sign telling temporary bypassing route. Generally unfamil- them this? Couldn’t they see for themselves? Did iar with the part of the city, he applied directive they actually have to be told that the sidewalk ends? logic and turned onto Southern Lane hoping it led After reading it a few more times, each time in- over to Highway 12, the road he normally traversed to creasing a grin that eventually grew into a chuckle that and from his latest employer. burst into a rolling laugh. Unaware, he lifted his foot from Immediately noticing that the street was oddly dark, he the gas pedal and the car slowed. was soon wishing he hadn’t taken the street at all. Maybe Now at a crawl, he realized, readied a middle finger sa- it was just the row of large oak trees lining each side of the lute while glancing up into the rear view mirror, half expect- street successfully blocking the morning sun’s rays, but as ing to see an angry tightly following driver on the verge of he drove deeper, the gloom seemed more intense, as if hap- blowing the horn. But no car was tailing and his finger went piness either purposely avoided the area or was completely limp as he looked back at the oncoming sign. banned altogether. Suddenly the car began to sputter terribly and turned off. He passed a tight cluster of condemned and eviction James looked at the gas gauge. There was plenty and he pulled stickered buildings attempting to hide behind shrubs that to the curb before the sign. He tried turning the key a num- looked to be no more than clusters of dried tumbleweeds and ber of times, but the car wouldn’t start. Furious, he pounded started searching for people loitering about, but saw none a tight fist onto the dashboard creating a crack alongside a and a pang of loneliness stabbed. similar looking one that had been created the same way. He started comparing the sights to aspects of his consid- He exited the car and kicked the door’s existing dent, erably less than stellar corrupted and sinful life, something rocking the whole car as the door slammed shut. Stepping that he seemed to be more aware of recently, but never se- up onto the worn and uneven sidewalk, he stopped to light a riously tried to fix. Instead, viewing the overall big picture cigarette, took a big drag, and contemplated his next move. with contempt and self-sorrow. The burnt buildings became The metal sign beckoned and he walked to it. a symbol of the many infidelity laced broken relationships; After standing before it for a few moments reading it sev- the crooked branches staggering off the shrubs signifying the eral more times, anger diminished somewhat, but wouldn’t twisted and conniving directions his life had taken; the dark allow humor to fully invade, and his inquisitiveness grew. asphalt looking closer and closer to the color of his heart. Had they run out of concrete? Did they just decide to Maybe halfway through and approaching was when he stop the sidewalk there? Why didn’t the sidewalk continue first saw it, a sign partly hidden behind a most unkempt rot- the length of the entire street? Why, if they were going to end ted brown shrub. As he read, the words yanked him out of it there had they bothered to create it at all? It didn’t make the fantasy associations. any sense. Posted directly in the center at the end of the sidewalk, Thoughts deliberated, never coming to a tangible and he viewed it with ridicule and couldn’t help but laugh at the logical solution and he forced the notion into the back of his seemingly preposterousness of it loudly proclaiming reserva- mind’s slush pile of things considered meaningless. tion obviously aimed at less common sensed folk. Pearl white The aspirin he had taken earlier was wearing off and he and glistening, the sign appeared completely out of place, cringed while gently rubbing the sore side of his face. His unlike the others, old, rusted, and bullet-holed. Had it not head began to pound and he wished he hadn’t spent most of been in such pristine condition he probably wouldn’t have the previous night drunkenly slouched over an equally ine-

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  26 briated woman in a bar whose name he couldn’t remember. continued cautiously treading toward James. But he did remember her wrinkles and makeup caked face. Not one to be frightened off by a little dog, James readied He recalled trying to pick her up for a meaningless overnight for kicking and stepped forward past the sign. relationship. She adamantly declined his very forward and Again he was standing in the hall and kicking the dog sometimes belligerent advances and angry at the rejection, evaporated from his mind. Recalling the screech, he franti- he called her a couple of not so nice choice names. A tall man cally searched about for the flying rodent, but couldn’t find it. leaning nearby against the bar played chivalry and told him Not far away, just beyond the first threshold dangling to leave her alone. He remembered turning toward him and from the water-stained dingy white ceiling he saw a gently spouting off a few more choice words, too. The fight ensued swaying noose and wondered how it was able to move in still and James lost the battle. Typical, normal, consistent. air. Through the rope’s gape was a rotted wood opening lead- His cell phone rang and he reached into his pocket for ing to a pitch black outdoors. A gleaming full moon beck- it, drawing it out and seeing it was his boss. He was late and oned in the far distance. certainly wasn’t going to make it anytime soon, so he let the Entranced by the moon’s brightness, a flicker of move- call go to voicemail and tapped a couple of different screen ment caught his eye and he focused. It was the bat, hanging icons pulling the camera feature up. Aiming it at the sign, he upside down from the lip of a jagged wood outcropping deep clicked off a shot. in the opening. It’s hair stood on end as it looked back with The picture was too bright with a blinding glare hiding beady little eyes and teasingly opened its wings partway im- most of the letters making it unreadable. He deleted it, side- plying that it was about to swoop down. Its mouth opened stepped and took another. Although more of the letters were showing tiny pointed teeth and it screeched again, this time visible, this picture still wasn’t much better and he inched much louder. James couldn’t help but to instinctively dip his farther to the side to try again. The next shot was worse than head slightly, but maintained a close vigil. the previous two, blurry and undistinguishable. Then he remembered the creatures and forced himself to He groaned a vulgarity, jammed the phone disgustedly remove his eyes to look for them. back into his pocket, half-heartedly flipped a middle finger They were still in place and moved ever so subtle while at the sign and stepped forward and onto the blackened hard looking back. James feared they would come toward him, but packed dirt path leading passed it. none seemed interested in leaving their threshold confines Suddenly he was no longer on the trail but standing at and simply looked back and forth from James to down the the end of a dim and long, institutional off-white colored hall and back. A chill flowed down James’s spine and he now hallway that turned to the left at the far end. The air was stag- knew what it must feel like to be a fly caught hopelessly in nant and a tinge of antiseptic burn invaded his nostrils. a web, watching and awaiting a spider looking tastily back Along the side walls, opposite and staggered, were inset from the corner shadows. doorway thresholds with three holding creatures, all grue- In the first threshold, an almost see through specter-like some in their own right, peering back at him. skeletal creature dressed in a sheer and flowing white tattered A grandfather clock’s deep and dark toned loud chim- robe held its mouth wide open screaming-like, but no sound ing broke the otherwise still silence, nothing like the pleasant was heard. Lifting a bony arm, the bones clicked and ground and comforting sounds as he recalled the one his grandpar- together when it reached out palm up at James and motioned ents owned. with an index finger to come closer. Just as a tremendous feeling of impending doom rose James’s eyes widened and he fell back against the cinder inside him, a bat screeched out from somewhere above and block wall. Immediately, coldness like none he had ever felt he reactively stepped backwards, finding himself standing on before radiated, saturating his back. The creature’s mouth the sidewalk at the front of the sign again. closed to a wicked smile, but the beckoning finger kept click- Perplexed, he felt his throbbing head again and leaned to ing back and forth. James looked away. look beyond the sign. At the second threshold opposite and off center from the Still some distance away coming toward him was an old first, a stocky and shiny black-shelled creature with a large man with a crooked walking stick carefully navigating the oblong shaped head and a mouthful of long pointed teeth dirt path. A small, mange-infested mutt explored the path scrutinized James’s stare. Glistening drool cascaded down side-to-side, occasionally tugging at the leash the man held over each tooth in ripples, forming growing larger droplets tightly and lifting a hind leg when deeming fit. at the points before falling into a hissing puddle to the floor James looked back and forth from the sign to the man, below. Small crab-like claws clacked raucously from its sides not knowing exactly what to do. The dog caught sight of and it turned to look down the hall. James’s movements and stopped dead in its tracks look- Down further on the same side leaning against the in- ing menacingly back, growling lowly and partway snarling. ner threshold stood a shadowed dark and silent man wearing James felt the anger rise and considered kicking it if the thing a long black cape and clenching by his side a large-bladed tried to attack. The man was looking back at him, smiling a knife rotating ever so slowly from side-to-side, reflecting and not so reassuring toothless grin. showing off moist red. The large brimmed hat he wore was After a moment of stare, using the tip of the stick the drawn forward hiding his face in total darkness and although old man nudged the dog and it cowered before obeying and James couldn’t see the man’s eyes, he had the feeling the man

SuspenseMagazine.com 27 was tightly watching. and stepped again, conscious, aware, and ready. The clock bellowed again and James jumped. Almost to the skeleton, he shifted to the wall opposite When the stroking stopped, the hall became deathly and watched for any threatening gesture while inching by. silent except for a low consistent hum that grew annoying. The skeleton’s head creaked as it turned following his move- James looked and saw, nestled in the corner at the far end just ments. The finger beckoning ceased and its arm dropped to as the corner turned, an electric chair still holding a slumped its side, tapping once against the top of its hip bone with a and vibrating hooded body, the corroded green metal hel- hollow reflective sound. A chill ran down James’s spine and met it wore occasionally sparking and he recalled the mur- he wondered whether he was doing the right thing. Swallow- der trial some twenty odd years ago when he was facing the ing the fear, fists ever ready, he sped up, quickly side-stepping same fate. Both he and his lawyer knew he was guilty of vi- past and becoming in between the first and second thresh- ciously stabbing the man repeatedly over and over, but due olds. to the alcohol, he could, even to this day, only remember bits Maintaining a back and forth vigil, aware that an attack and pieces. Lucky for him, his attorney was one of the mob’s could now come from either direction, he moved a few more best and the case was dismissed when a key witness refused steps, insuring he was beyond the skeleton’s reach before to step forward. Without the lone witness, regardless of the crossing the hall to the opposite wall. There wasn’t an inkling truth, nothing could be proven and he walked away scot- of impending confrontation, but no sense of relief flowed as free, even keeping the one hundred and thirty six dollars he he pondered whether the other two would be just as easy to had taken from the man’s wallet. He tried to remember what get by. he spent the money on, but couldn’t, only wagering to say His hand ached again and he slightly loosened the fist that booze was involved. giving some relief and took a couple more steps until he was Looking back at the creatures again, they seemed more below the noose. menacing and he nervously backed up to the wall, kicking It was grayish and dry rotted, just like the ones he had the sole of his boot against the concrete block, expecting to seen in those old black and white matinee western movies fall through as before and return to the morning he left. But he frequented as a boy. He thought of Robert Blake’s tightly the wall was unyielding and his boot only succeeded in slid- wrapped body dropping through the gallows trapdoor, snap- ing down the wall’s face. He kicked again as precipitous hor- ping and gruesomely bouncing back up at the end of the Tru- ror rose through him, only to have the same result. man Capote film In Cold Blood. Spinning around, he pushed with open palms firmly He gazed back and forth, between the noose and the against the wall. It was hard, dense, cold, and unforgiving. creatures unable to decide which was more frightening. He began pounding with balled fists before it dawned on Quietly sucking in a deep breath, he was about to take him that maybe those creatures were sneaking up on him another step when he noticed a bottomless looking ragged and his head snapped to look back. They were only watch- black hole leading through the yellowish tiled floor almost in ing as before and James would have sworn that the skeletal the hall’s center ahead of him. It was small enough to allow thing’s grin was wider. He turned back and struck the wall shimmying by and he stepped forward. A pair of reflective considerably harder. A sharp pain shot through his hand and green eyes appeared and looked back as a low, liquid filled he yelled out. Turning around, he held his hand gingerly and choking-like growl emitted. James placed his back against looked to the end of the hall. There had to be a way out. the side wall. It was colder than the end wall had been. Fearful, he took a small step forward and stopped to see He looked at the toothy creature ahead not far away what the creatures did. They took notice, rising upright a bit and back to the hole. He compared each side, pondering and leaning farther out, but remained in their confines. His which way to go around, but realized that from either side body knotted with another step forward, careful to remain in it wouldn’t make any substantial distance difference and he the hall center. The ghastly skeleton’s bony finger chronically decided to remain on the side he was. beckoned, clicking and moving quicker. Not being a small The eyes disappeared and assuming opportunity was man, James felt confident in fending off the skeleton and knocking, he shifted, remaining tight against the wall like a maybe the man with the knife if need be, but wasn’t so sure person high up edging along a skyscraper’s tiny ledge and about the large headed creature who was larger than him and made his way by. appeared so big and strong. If it was to snarl out, those teeth A few steps beyond the hole he looked back at it. The eyes would be hard to avoid. were back, watching. A matted and clumped hair covered What if they attacked together? The question sliced claw with long cracked nails crept out—reaching—bringing through him like a razor through paper, cutting some of the with it a rancid odor like that of a thousand dead bodies that confidence away with it. He concentrated on the open hall, had been lying for days in the midday sun. James gagged and planned to zigzag around and hoping that if it came to that bile burned at the back of his throat. He swallowed hard and he could outrun them. slid a couple more steps. The claw, its nails chattering gritty But what was around the corner? Was he climbing into his lined marks against the tile, retreated back into the hole, tak- own grave? ing much of the rotting smell with it. His hand throbbed loudly, reminding him of the wall With the unseen creature gone, James breathed a small and that it was his only hope. He took the pain, balled fists sigh of relief and looked at the creature across from him. It

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  28 was considerably larger than he thought and he could now over something and he felt partially relieved to not be alone see it had a long curled up tail. any longer. With little beady eyes the creature watched, its jaw mov- Treading carefully, half expecting someone or something ing up and down, clenching and unclenching teeth, making to emerge at each threshold as he passed, his guard remained a terrible grinding sound. A puddle of bubbling and hissing high, keeping to the hall center. Nothing appeared. drool festered at its feet, vapors rising and swirling about. Growing ever closer to the desk, he was able to distin- Half expecting it to lunge out, James kept his back tight guish that it was a bespectacled and balding little man, who to the wall remaining on guard, the thought of those vicious was busy writing in a large thick leather bound book with a teeth biting down and tearing into his flesh. But as with the feather quill pen. skeleton, it too remained still and didn’t make any attempt. At the desk, James silently watched the man write. Seem- The bat screeched again, yanking the horrendous delib- ingly oblivious to the observance, the man maintained his eration from his mind. Instinctively ducking and raising his intense concentration, occasionally reaching out without arms protectively above his head in one motion and realized looking to dip the pen’s tip into an adjacent oddly shaped it was now directly above him, still hanging upside down black ink jar and resume writing. James looked at the brass where it had been in the ceiling opening. nameplate sitting crookedly on the front of the desk…Mr. Fearing it would swoop, he kept both arms up and hur- Lived, and he wondered whether it was intended to be more riedly took a few more steps, getting beyond both the dan- of an adjective describing an existence, much like the many gling rodent and the drooling creature, nestling up against posters he recalled sometimes seeing on the walls of inter- the side of the grandfather clock. viewing offices. Ones that said things like INTEGRITY and Still quite confused and fearful, his confidence grew, re- COURAGE and HONESTY and HOPE. The quill flicked alizing that he was more than halfway along. He looked back rapidly with each letter stroke and James remained quiet, at the creatures again. Nothing was in tow and he stepped leaning forward trying to make out what the man was writ- to the front of the massive meticulously carved and heavily ing, but the lettering was so petite that he couldn’t. The man worn clock. grunted somewhat rudely, obviously conveying awareness of Behind an intricately etched glass panel featuring time James’s presence, but continued penning and didn’t look up. associated symbols, a tarnished golden pendulum swung Just as annoyance started to replace fear, the man fin- consistently back and forth, loudly ticking with each sway ished the line he was writing and placed the quill into the and James felt a little hypnotized watching it. The clock face ink jar and looked up with alarmingly cold and distant eyes, registered slightly after midnight. That can’t be right, James much larger from behind the magnifying spectacles. thought and he glanced at his wristwatch. It was the same. The irritation fluttered away as dread replaced. James at- He squeezed his eyes tight, reopened them, looked back up tempted to counter with conversation. to the clock face and then to his wristwatch again. Neither “Where am I?” changed and he concentrated on the shadowy black figure in “In time my friend…in time.” The man replied in a high the next threshold. pitched voice, taking James by surprise. The man’s head remained tilted forward completely hid- The man chuckled. James couldn’t imagine what the man ing his face, but James still had the sensation that he was still found so funny and he wanted to reach out to snatch the man watching. The knife in his hand flicked a speck of bright light up by his collar, maybe smack him around a bit and take out off the steel each time it turned from side-to-side. the morning frustrations. But although not something he James took a step to the other side of the clock. The man’s regularly practiced, considering the circumstances he opted head remained still, but it didn’t soothe James’s prior concern to change tactics, anticipating getting more with sugar than and he slid down the wall as before, getting by with no inci- with vinegar. dent. “What kind of name is Lived anyway?” he asked, at- The remaining thresholds were empty and James paced tempting to be personable, “I mean, it’s different…never quickly toward end of the hall only glancing back once to see heard it before.” that although the creatures continued their vigils, none were “Not where I come from,” the man replied, chuckling following. even more, but keeping close observance. He approached the corner, the electric chair humming After a sustained bout of merriment, the man calmed, grew louder and the body arched higher, vibrating amidst its taking on a more serious appearance. grip. James didn’t linger and rounded the corner. “Please excuse me,” the man began, “I tend to find things Another very similar looking hall stood before him, not rather amusing and yes, I suppose you’re right, it is a rather quite as long, but considerably darker and gloomier. There uncommon name. But where I come from there are many were thresholds leading off from it too, but nothing stood both common and uncommon names and usually the dis- in them. Large elaborate paintings depicting castles and de- tinction is just a matter of locale.” mons and moons and fires, thick with shadowy, rich colors At a loss for words and still partially digesting the man’s lined the walls in between each and before James could dwell funny sounding tone, James listened. on them, he spotted someone at the end of the hall, sitting “Let me ask you something,” the man’s eyes tightened, behind a large wooden desk head down and busy laboring almost becoming slits. “Have you ever heard the old adage

SuspenseMagazine.com 29 curiosity killed the cat?” After a few more blinks, features started gradually com- “Sure,” James answered. ing into view. It was the creatures from the thresholds, with “And do you find it to be true?” the bespectacled little man at his head smiling widely with The man’s brow rose and his eyes opened more. uneven and grotesquely-shaped teeth. “Never gave it much thought,” James replied. “I suppose “Shall we answer your question now?” the man grinned so,” he added in a snotty tone becoming aggravated. wider as horns broke through the skin of the man’s forehead “Why do you think it was created?” the man inquired. and wormed stubbly out like a growing weed. “Your soul was “How do you think it was started? Obviously, it had to begin destined and you can’t tell me that you didn’t know? You had from somewhere…probably through observation. Wouldn’t your one warning…your one chance. Something I always you agree?” The man suavely returned the attitude with a allow…a warning if you will. Something I do for every des- grin. tined soul and maybe something more than a little game I Not the philosophical type, James gave the question no play. After all…there should be some sort of fun involved… active consideration and simply looked on blankly shrugging right?” his shoulders. The creatures chortled profusely as the man looked away The man raised a withered hand, snapped two fingers around the standing perimeter before looking back down. and pointed behind James. James turned to look. The hall “You were allowed back out. But just as curiosity and the had been transformed, changed and completely the opposite cat, you stepped right back in, now didn’t you? Remember of when James came through. Paintings were exchanged with the growling dog? You could have easily turned away and newly depicted ones and the thresholds now each held a hor- headed in the opposite direction. But NO! You stood firm, all rible looking beast, much worse than the ones he had been uncaring with malicious intent. Remember? Of course, no with in the first hall. As each gawked, low growls, screams need to feel bad about it now. After all, you’re no different and cries filled the air. than most, choosing to continue along the identical path un- “Like I said,” the man began cackling, “it’s all a matter of til it’s far too late. Should I apologize for the trickster in me? perception.” I think not because it’s what I do.” James turned back toward the man and his eyes fell to The man’s voice grew deeper and he straightened, still the nameplate. It now read deviL rM. gazing downward. The black leather chair squeaked as the man leaned back “I trick souls. So, do you still want to know where you laughing louder and fear flooded into James when he saw are?” the man’s lower half was that of a goat. He turned and fled The fright in James’s face answered the question for him back down the hallway past the dreadful creatures with no and the man noticed. concern whether they were reaching out. The man’s laughter “I assumed as much.” echoed down the hall after him. Rooted and frozen in realization, James could only hope “Want to know what the RM stands for?” the man called it was a dream and wanted to cry out, awaken himself from out. the horror if it was, but he couldn’t seem to utter even a peep. James didn’t care and concentrated on being surefooted. The man’s eyes flashed bright red as he wickedly smiled “It’s for Resident Master!” and raised a crooked finger to his lips, “Shhhhhh.” Rounding the corner, hundreds of various voiced laugh- Apprehensive with eyes wide, James looked back as the ter thickly filled the air, echoing from wall to wall, impelling creatures stopped their hilarity one-by-one and reached his ears and chasing after him. The prior creatures were gone down. James felt their grip and his voice let loose a tremen- and James focused on the end wall. dous shriek before going black. Drawing near, he lowered his stocky shoulder like a full- When he awoke, his shoulder no longer hurt, his mind back would, determined to break through the concrete block seemed perfectly clear and an eerie calmness lingered barrier and back into the morning from which he came. through his body as if it wasn’t really there. Looking down, His shoulder collided and he cried out loudly when it he watched an expensive business suit wearing man come popped sideways out of the socket. Momentum slammed ambling through a white clouded haze and grow increasingly his face into the hardness, chipping most of his front teeth perplexed as he stared down the hall. James listened intently and breaking an upper cheek bone before brutally deflecting to the drooling creature’s claws clacking almost in perfect backwards and landing on the floor in an unconscious heap. unison with the clock’s ticking. Somehow he knew that the James opened his eyes and blinked a few times trying to both the skeletal character and shadowed knife wielding man eliminate blurriness. The pain in his shoulder was terrible was watching, too. and his mouth tightened when he winced. Jagged points of When the man noticed the creatures his eyes grew wide what was left of his teeth scraped against his bottom lip as and disbelieving. he grimaced, feeling the dried streaks of blood that had run James wanted to call out…to tell the man to turn around from the corners of his mouth and down from his nostrils and go back and never return. But the tight noose he dan- crack with the movement. gled from wouldn’t allow a single syllable and just as the man Looking up he hazily saw shadowed shapes standing peered up at James, the clock began chiming midnight. ■ above, surrounding and looking down at him.

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  30 Blues, bourbon and the occasional homicidal maniac. WELCOME TO NICHOLAS COLT’S WORLD.

“It hits you hard and fast with crackling suspense, hair-raising twists and stunning revelations. Word of advice: don’t start on this one unless you’re prepared to stay up all night.” —John Ling, author of The Blasphemer, on Key Death “Jude Hardin takes the thriller genre into the darkest corners of the human heart and mind. Bold suspense and drama.” —Scott Nicholson, author of Liquid Fear

AVAILABLE NOW ON KINDLE AND AS TRADE PAPERBACK

*And look for the new Nicholas Colt Thriller, BLOOD TATTOO, coming in November* Suspense Magazine Book Reviews Inside the Pages CLOSE TO THE BONE FIRST GRAVE PAST THE LIGHT By Stuart MacBride By Darynda Jones There should be a 12-step program for addicts of Darynda Jones and theCharley Davidson MacBride is series. I could head up the local chapter and fans could commiserate about all of the day-to- still the king of grit; day goings on that we miss while trapped in the pages of her novels. It’s a pleasurable trap, every character, plot, mind you, but as readers, we’re sucked in and those pesky things like work, dishes, and laundry and murder scene converge into something we don’t want to deal with until the last word. is dark and twisted. Charley Davidson—grim reaper, police consultant, and investigator—has her hands full, Detective Inspector as always. An arson investigation, most likely tied to her on-again/off-again sexy neighbor Reyes Farrow, is Logan McRae of the nagging at her for a solution…well, not the investigation, it’s her Uncle Bob who’s sure Charley knows more Aberdeen, Scotland than she’s saying. Police Department is the focus of With the possible consequences of another fire hanging over her head, she’s hoping to solve what should this tale, and although there are be an easy case of adultery to lessen her load. Seriously, how hard could it be to catch a cheater in a busy bar quite a number of scenes to make with tight, cleavage-bearing clothing? Clearly more difficult than Charley planned and she makes an instant the suspense lover cringe, Logan enemy out of the man whose head she doesn’t turn. If that isn’t challenging enough, when the spirits of McRae also provides readers with women begin flocking to her home without the intent to crossover, Charley’s feeling the weight. It’s hard entertaining, humorous looks into enough to shower with the corporeal ghost of a full-grown Rottweiler, but when one distressed woman hides both his private and public life. in Charley’s shower, it gets to be too much and her humble home is in a word: crowded. As the story begins, DI McRae Sure, she can bunk with Reyes, but there are nighttime complications when you play house with the son is on his way to a grisly murder of Satan. Learning that the captain of the PD—Uncle Bob’s boss—has decided to shadow her to find out scene where the victim has been exactly what her secrets are just about unhinges her. strangled, stabbed, and set on fire. Bad day at work? Stressed out by the kids? Darynda Jones and the Charley Davidson series is the solution. Not only is the method of killing Captivating and laugh-out-loud funny, this is one of the best series in print today. beyond grotesque but the DI also is Reviewed by Shannon Raab for Suspense Magazine ■ confused as to what category the kill falls into—gang issues or something FOLLOW HER HOME far worse. By Steph Cha But this is not the only crime. Cha is a debut author and she kept me reading until the very end. Using literary giant Someone is busy leaving little piles Raymond Chandler’s character Philip Marlowe as her guide, Juniper Song becomes entangled of bones outside McRae’s house. He in a mystery that is sordid, harrowing, and very deadly. Song is not an investigator in any way, doesn’t know the reason why, but but having read enough—at least she thinks—of Marlowe’s escapades, she attempts to draw on because he has other more bloody those situations to finagle staying alive. crimes to deal with, this takes a back Her best friend Luke needs help in finding out if his father is cheating on his mother and burner. With drug gangs fighting elicits Song to do some simple questioning. She agrees, but wishes she hadn’t. That simple task leads her to mercilessly; a pair of teenagers who be knocked unconscious, to find a dead body in the trunk of her car, and to be threatened. And that’s just the are missing and could somehow be beginning of her weekend. attached to the strange executions; While trying to uncover the truth of what is really going on, she realizes the case has similarities to her a recent bestselling novel that personal past. She tries to resolve her issues while dodging bullets and dealing with death in both the covert seems to be spelling out what will and well-known parts of Los Angeles. She ends up losing more than could have imagined. happen next; and Asians being Cha keeps you wanting to turn the pages with a need to know what is going on and cheering Song on to found brutally attacked, this is one help work through the pain from her past. A well-written and very intriguing book. detective that needs a very long Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Other Side: Melinda’s Story” published by Suspense vacation. Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ The grisly is definitely provided, ACCIDENTS HAPPEN but the entertainment comes along By Louise Millar with it in the form of a new Detective There are those in life who are accident-prone; it’s as if they picked up a bad penny when Sergeant who seems to want nothing they were little and Fate has followed them around ever since. more than to anger McRae. Kate Parker is one of those people. Her anxiety and worry is at the highest level when it Not for the squeamish, this is comes to her and her son’s protection. Having to deal with the tragic accident of her parents, one novel that provides the worst Kate then had to face the loss of her husband at the hands of a murderer. The added difficulties of humanity, and is written so well of the always mean and sometimes brutal world makes Kate seem psychologically imbalanced. that readers will see each of these Wanting nothing more than to open the door to a new, better life, Kate makes the decision to get away hideous scenes in their mind’s eye. from the past and journey to a new location. A man comes into the mix and Kate finally allows herself to start But the banter between McRae smiling; she and Jack are happy and the positive things begin appearing. and his staff is hilarious at times, Of course, what Kate doesn’t cling to is the fact that there are truly horrible people in the world who and far more interesting than the own a sneer behind their smile. And when Jack is suddenly put in danger, Kate must struggle to get her head continuous line of CSIs, etc. that are on straight in order to save her son. But with the twists and turns that stand before her, her imagination may seen regularly on televisions across just mix with real life and end in a tragic event. the country. Good psychological thrillers are difficult to find. Taking away all the paranormal and science fiction Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author overtones a book can have and stripping it bare, it is difficult to write a character that needs help inside their of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & own head. Kate is one of those women who you want to see survive, and you desperately hope her courage Lowery Book Two” published by will be unleashed so she can turn from victim to hero. Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense Magazine ■ Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  32 SHADOW PEOPLE INFERNO By James Swain By Dan Brown Swain manages to combine a thriller with the supernatural, and pull from his hat a touch of a good versus evil page-turner. Although Brown Now you see it, now you don’t. A cliché, but one that character Peter Warlock uses to has more than one entertain. That is, before the Shadow People ‘entertain’ him. Having a bit of evil inside of book that’s rock himself, but trying to use it for good, Peter works with FBI Special Agent Garrison to bring solid and historically down a serial killer. engaging, it’s the Kidnapped by the Shadow People and brought against his will to a time in the future, he is ordained to power of “The Da be the one to save Rachel, not only the killer’s next victim but also someone whose good works are a threat Vinci Code” that to evil. brings readers out of Peter’s girlfriend Liza is determined to understand who he is, the good and the bad side of Peter. She the woodwork to see what he has accompanies him on his frenzied run from present to future and is put in harm’s way. Peter is just as firm in come up with next. his need to not only keep Liza safe but to also keep her in his life and shares more than he has ever shared Robert Langdon, the famous about himself. This leads to not only an enlightenment of his past but of what he is actually capable of. symbologist, is back—resurfacing Swain puts you in a trance, forcing you to turn page after page until all is revealed. A magic trick? I in the world of historic myths, facts, think not. I recommend this to readers who are looking for something different, entertaining, thrilling, and truths, and fantasy. This mission is completely engaging. based on clues from a ‘hellish’ trip, Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Other Side: Melinda’s Story” published by Suspense as Langdon must find answers to Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ old questions inspired by Dante’s A MEDAL FOR MURDER “Divine Comedy.” By Frances Brody Scientist, Bertrand Zobrist is A pawnbroker in the city of Leeds is robbed in a brash, daytime assault. Numerous items a eugenicist—a strange specialty— temporarily entrusted to his care by financially embarrassed clients are stolen and the police wanting to improve humanity by admit to having few clues. The distraught shopkeeper hires Kate Shackleton to discretely controlling heredity. His companion contact the owners of the missing pieces and assure them their losses will be made good. is a very mysterious woman who’s an This novel is set in England of 1922, four short years after the end of the Great War. Kate enigma who readers will have a lot of is almost a widow. Like so many other women in Europe, her husband is presumed dead on the fun figuring out. battlefield, but is not legally dead and Kate still harbors secret hopes he may yet be alive. In the meantime, Langdon wakes up in a hospital, she has opened a detective agency. After all, bills must be paid. the last two days of his memory Kate’s mission takes her to the town of Harrogate where a young acquaintance of hers is directing a gone. He has no recollection of why community play. Kate agrees to attend the final performance that evening, welcoming a brief respite from he’s in a hospital in Florence, and has her detecting. But murder makes an entrance and Kate finds herself caught up in the investigation. no idea why someone has made an Enter, stage left, Inspector Charles of Scotland Yard. Kate and the Inspector have met before, during attempt on his life. Kate’s first investigative adventure, chronicled in “Dying in the Wool.” When honest with herself, Kate has Sienna, a lovely young doctor to admit to being intrigued by the handsome policeman, even when he is admonishing her to keep her explains all she knows, and almost attractive face out of police business. immediately, an assassin begins Frances Brody’s novel harkens back to the fabled Golden Age of Mystery and reminds the reader of shooting up the emergency ward. Christie, Sayers, and even at times, Wodehouse. Post war England is rendered with skillful prose that quickly Langdon and Sienna are on the draws the reader into that world. Ms. Brody’s plot is masterfully constructed, deftly staged, and brought to run. But running does no good if an ending that is both logical and emotionally satisfying. someone can follow. Without giving Reviewed by Andrew MacRae, author of “Murder Misdirected” for Suspense Magazine ■ anything specific away…Langdon is being tracked because of something SHIFT special he carries on his body, which By Hugh Howey if it was actually deciphered, could It’s hard to find eloquent words to describe my love for the genius of Hugh Howey. stop the human race from operating Reading his work reminds me of how I felt when I first read Stephen King’s “Carrie.” For me, the way it always has. The issue of no author has ever measured against Master King’s writing. Howey and King have one thing how to balance the universe, how in common: They are storytellers before they are writers. to better the quality of life without Howey is one of the new breed of Indie Hybrid authors, self-publishing his e-books and destroying it all together, is at the licensing the paper-book distribution rights to the major publishers. So, he can deliver great core of this intricate plot. reads quickly; no more waiting for the publishing world’s limit of one release a year. Readers will be interested to see “Shift” takes us back to the beginning before “Wool;” before the world was laid waste and toxic by that the presence of evil has nothing something that happened sixty years before, forcing the few thousand remaining human beings to live in to do with the priesthood. Here, two-hundred story silos. The silos are layered with not only physical levels but political and social strata, and are governed under strict rule. Langdon must step away from the Whilst reading “Wool,” (which I recommend reading before Shift) there were what you could presume Divine and go head-to-head with a to be plot holes. These are resolved in “Shift” as we travel from the destruction of Earth to the monotonous mad scientist. existence of the inhabitants of Silo One who are cryogenically frozen and awakened for their shifts. All brains, all plot, and killer This new world and its progression through several hundred years is told through various characters: conversations. Yet again, Dan Brown the engineer who unwittingly designed the silos, a shift worker who remembers fragments of another life, a has shown he can combine myths courier who becomes embroiled in an uprising, a child trapped for years in a computer safe room. with facts to create unforgettable It is science fiction work, but crosses genres with genius. The reason for Howey’s huge success is the stories; a gift that has earned him the human stories he tells. Through his wonderful and rich characters, Howey challenges us to contemplate title, “Master of the Literary Maze.” hope and humanity. Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author Just like King’s millions of loyal fans who read every book he releases, there will be few initiates to of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & the Howey style who will not continue to follow him wherever he chooses to write. And that’s the kind of Lowery Book Two” published by passion a good storyteller evokes. Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Reviewed by Susan May http://susanmaywordadventures.blogspot.com.au/ for Suspense Magazine ■ Suspense Magazine ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 33 DEADLY FORECAST FATHER KNOWS DEATH By Victoria Laurie By Jeffrey Allen In the little town of Rose Petal, Texas, there is an annual event held that brings everyone The fun that out of their houses and into the 100 degree sun—without complaint (well, without much comes from leading complaint). It is the Carriveau County Fair, and everyone is scheduled to have a ball. up to a wedding Always held in April, hoping that the weather will at least be kind of cool, schools and day: ordering the businesses come together to promote the Fair. Everything else in town is literally brought to a cake, getting the halt while the whole town celebrates. venue, sending out Deuce Winters, a stay-at-home dad; his wife, Julianne, who is extremely pregnant and more the invitations; all than upset with the heat factor; and their daughter, Carly, who is a real ball-of-fire, are on hand to start this of this brings warm year’s Fair. and happy feelings to a bride. Deuce is helping in the 4-H tent because Carly is a member. On his way to replenish the food tent, Deuce Unfortunately, in the case of Abby smiles at everyone he knows, opens the freezer, and there, resting among the hot dogs, hamburgers, and Cooper (a psychic consultant bratwurst, lies George Spellman. The groundskeeper at the fairgrounds is dead as a doornail. with powers of her own), these Deuce agrees to help find out who killed George, as he’s a partner in a detective agency. Julianne wants happy moments have to be set him to stay out of this one because of her condition, but that’s not likely to happen when the head of the Fair aside. She has to deal with far Committee, Mama Biggs, becomes adamant that Deuce investigate and report his findings to her, and her only. more; a darker world where cakes Spending a week with these people in the town of Rose Petal is a hoot-and-a-holler. Everyone is knee-deep and the guest list are not a part of in everyone else’s business. The gas company runs all about town wanting to dig for natural gas in the backyards her preparations. of the citizens, while Deuce is left to wonder if having a dead body in the freezer is a health hazard. There have been unusually A one-day read; you will not stop until you discover who the culprit is. And this is one cozy that offers a large numbers of suicide real surprise ending! Enjoy! bombings occurring in the Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense commercial areas of Austin, Texas Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ that have caught the attention of FRAGILE ANGEL FBI Agent Dutch Rivers. Dutch By Stefaunia Dhillon is Abby’s fiancé, and when Abby One word: creepy. That’s the perfect word for “Fragile Angel.” And it’s right up my alley. has a premonition that shows the Once I started this book, I was unable to put it down. fact that her true love is in mortal Happily—at first—to set off on an adventure with her new husband Michael, Evie discovers danger, wedding plans are left that life isn’t always what you make it. Instead, it is what is destined for you. And this is what Evie behind. finds out when she moves to England. Abby is determined to find Michael purchases a 13th Century Gothic Church to restore as their new home. Evie is not a way to insert herself into the at all happy that he did this without consulting her first. But over time, and much rebuilding, they settle in. Then cases so she can better foretell she finds out they are not alone. She’s confused and battles with demons and spirits she doesn’t understand. any tragedy that could happen She’s desperate to share her feelings and newfound abilities—which actually, without realizing it all these years, to Dutch. As usual, Abby’s spirit have always resided within her—with Michael. But he can’t deal with what she is telling him, that the church guides are right on the money, has a life of its own and is calling her. as they keep her advised as to Feeling alone, she strikes out on a journey to find out why she is so connected to Catherine, one of the what’s happening. As the hostility spirits at the church. What she finds out is not what she expects when she began her new life in England. builds, so does Abby’s anxiety. If you can overlook errors commonly made by a debut authors and love this side of creepy in a story, you The couple’s wedding is fast will love this book as I did. Intriguing, suspenseful, and downright otherworldly, it’s a story I was sad to see end. approaching and Abby’s sister, Hopefully, we’ll see more from Dhillon soon. Cat—who is the Queen of Type-A Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Other Side: Melinda’s Story” published by Suspense personalities—is planning a Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ whiz-bang of a ceremony, not BOMBSHELL caring one iota if the bridal pair By Catherine Coulter likes it or not. Everyone’s favorite agents and fantastic husband and wife team—Savich and Sherlock—are Dutch is able to keep his cool back! while Abby is driving everyone The previous book (“Backfire”) introduced readers to Agent Griffin Hammersmith. In this over the edge. And when there’s new story, we begin with Griffin as he heads to Washington, D.C. in order to join Savich’s team. another bombing, Abby rises up Making a quick stop in Maestro, Virginia to visit his sister Delsey, Griffin walks into a to meet the challenge of Fate, dangerous situation. Upon arrival, he finds that Delsey has been attacked in her home by an taking it upon herself to save the unknown assailant. Thankfully, Delsey survives and she, her friend Anna—along with Griffin—join forces in day. order to find out who’s behind the strange attack. Working with the sheriff and his wife, an FBI Agent, the team Enough said because any assembles to look for answers in a very snooty and mystery-filled town. more information given will Meanwhile, in D.C., Savich and Sherlock are working on the case of a college student, who’s the grandson spoil the incredible ending of this of a former Federal Reserve Chairman. The boy was found in the snow at the feet of Abraham Lincoln in front amazing novel. Suffice to say, after of the Lincoln Memorial. reading just a small portion, you The two cases eventually meld together. The agents find themselves deep into both, and thanks to the will most definitely continue on author’s fascinating plotting, it seems that no one is safe who has anything to do with either case. to see if the wedding day will, in As always, Catherine Coulter has provided non-stop action including the FBI, DEA, and individuals fact, arrive. galore. She takes readers from the depths of D.C. to a school that involves two high-and-mighty brothers that This is a truly memorable have more than a passing interest in Delsey, all the way to a cave in the mountains of Virginia chock full of drugs and entertaining read! and guns. Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author It always feels like a visit from good friends when Sherlock and Savich return. The character base grows ever of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & larger with each book; more and more agents and unique people join the scene. But the core is and will remain Lowery Book Two” published by the happily married couple, and Coulter will remain an author who has never lost the power to mesmerize. Suspense Publishing, an imprint Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense of Suspense Magazine ■ Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  34 BLOOD OF MY BLOOD KILLER AMBITION By Ralph Pezzullo By Marcia Clark A guy like Smokey Annicelli, a former New York City cop turned private investigator, may let his wife down and may disappoint his grown daughters, but he’d never go back on Marcia Clark the promise he made to his dying best friend to look after his children. Only at some point he scores once again with must have, because the nineteen-year-old Ricky Bravero is dead, shot nine times in the back. a taut, suspenseful, To the police, the case is simple—a drug addict killed by his dealer for non-payment— and intelligent legal but Smokey thinks there are deeper questions to be asked, and he is soon demanding the thriller. In the third answers. A few are found easily, but others are being hidden so well that Smokey finds it hard to shed light Rachel Knight novel, into places that have remained dark for decades. the teenage daughter Help comes in the form of old friends and new acquaintances, but who can he really trust? Though of wealthy Hollywood Smokey isn’t certain he can believe in anyone, he realizes he has to trust someone in order to get the answers director Russell that dangle just out of reach. Antonovich is kidnapped. After he Threatening phone calls and a brutal attack lead to an attempt on Smokey’s life, with results that could change everything for him. Pulled in one direction by his need to right old wrongs, pulled in another delivers the ransom money, one direction by a girlfriend who wants more than he’s been giving, Smokey has to balance the new promises million dollars in cash, the girl is he’s almost ready to make with the old promises that are tightening around his neck. found dead in the trunk of a car at Told in present tense, “Blood of My Blood” has an immediacy that propels the story forward at a the Los Angeles airport. DA Rachel blistering pace. Author Pezzullo’s terse dialogue and raw descriptions take the reader straight to the seamiest Knight and her friend Bailey Keller, a side of the roughest streets of New York City, where Smokey finds out that an old promise is dragging him detective from the LAPD, believe the toward places he never wanted to go. case to be a kidnapping gone wrong, Reviewed by Laura Alden, author of “Curse of the PTA” for Suspense Magazine ■ until the suspected kidnapper is also found dead in a shallow grave on a MY LUNATIC LIFE remote mountain road. By Sharon Sala As the investigation proceeds, Tara Luna lives with her Uncle Pat, has since her parents died. He is as best a parent as he the prosecution’s evidence points can be to the young girl. We meet them as they move to Stillwater, Oklahoma. toward Ian Powers, a former child Another new school where they can call her Luna the Looney, Moon Girl, or even worse, star, now high profile manager and witch. Tara is not only psychic but has a couple of hundred-year-old ghosts, Millicent and close family friend of the dead girl, Henry, who provide a little protection and advice and cause general mayhem to embarrass Hayley Antonovich. Although the Tara at every opportunity. police find strong forensic evidence, Other than her ghostly followers and rare ability to read minds and peer into the future a little, Tara is they are unable to identify a motive just like every other teenager: likes the bad boys, has a run-in with the head cheerleader, etc. Sala follows the for the killing, until Rachel and pattern of typical high school cliques that all of us have run into one way or the other. Dealing with the rigors of just being a teenager and full of angst, Tara also handles being the new girl her associates dig deeper into the and the knowledge there is a foreboding dark presence in the house she and Uncle Pat moved into. By the backgrounds of Antonovich and time she meets the ghost of the young girl who was murdered there, helps save the life of a student at school Powers, as well as the would-be who is having a seizure, and leads the police to one of her schoolmates who has been kidnapped, all by kidnapper and Hayley’s boyfriend, demonstrating her psychic powers to her new friends, Uncle Pat is forced to believe there is more to Tara Brian Maher. than meets the eye. The criminal trial begins, and Using real places and street names in the Stillwater area helps bring this book to life. In this, the first in Rachel is pitted against a defense the series of the “My Lunatic Life” young adult novels, Sala gives us a plucky little heroine to cheer for and attorney who does not hesitate to use leaves us eager to read the next book, for after all, there is still a murder to solve if the ghost of the child in any dirty trick available to discredit her house is to be appeased. the prosecution’s evidence. And as Reviewed by Mark P. Sadler, author of “Blood on his Hands” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint well as proving her case, Rachel must of Suspense Magazine ■ deal with the members of the press who hone in on a great celebrity I HEAR THE SIRENS IN THE STREET story, no matter who is guilty or By Adrian McKinty innocent. Eventually the truth Book II of The Troubles Trilogy is a tension-filled narrative that draws readers into the life of Police Detective Inspector, Sean Duffy. It is the early 1980s and the civil war in Belfast, comes out, illustrating the lengths to Northern Ireland is raging—with more violence and pain occurring each and every day. which they will go in order to achieve The author begins with a ‘bang’ not a ‘whimper,’ as Sean discovers the remains of a man’s success in a cutthroat industry. torso stuffed into a suitcase buried in a dumpster. The only evidence of who the man might Ms. Clark’s strong female have been comes in the form of a partial tattoo. The authorities don’t have much to go on, characters and insight into both suffice to say, so Duffy and his cohorts hit the bricks to do some good old-fashioned police work. the motivations of the criminals Finally able to identify the corpse, the happiness is short-lived. The body is an American tourist who and those who surround them, as has no links that could have caused him this much pain. The case slows to a crawl as Sean attempts to put well as the lawyers and police who two and two together. search for the truth, make this an Never giving up, he comes up with scenarios about what the sinister plot could be. A random act of exceptional novel. Her personal violence in the already violent city? Or perhaps a conspiracy involving British Intelligence, American FBI, experience as a prosecutor makes and some local paramilitary death squads that Sean most definitely doesn’t want to get involved with? her uniquely qualified to write about A redheaded beauty whose husband died in an IRA assassination may just hold the answers. But as the investigations and courtroom Sean gets deeper into the case, passion and professional misconduct may just end up to be the combo that proceedings, but her strong writing does him in for good. makes the novel entertaining and Full of sorrow for the country and people of Northern Ireland, this plot will keep the reader busy. Being satisfying. a standalone book, even though it’s part of the series, knowing Book I (“The Cold, Cold Ground”) ahead of Reviewed by Kathleen Heady, time is not a necessity. However, after this, you’ll be scrambling to see how it all began. author of “Lydia’s Story” for Suspense Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Magazine ■ Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 35 KEEPER OF THE NOT THE KILLING TYPE DAWN By Lorna Barrett By Heather Graham The November election is heating up in Stoneham, New Hampshire. Not the U.S. presidential one. Or the congressional one. Or the mayoral one. This election is for the For anyone who presidency of the Stoneham Chamber of Commerce when a run-of-the-mill Chamber breakfast has been a fan of The meeting at the Brookview Inn turns ugly. Keepers: L.A. you’ll Long-standing Chamber president Bob Kelly, who figures he’s a shoe-in for reelection to be thrilled. This is the job, is shocked when his former girlfriend, Angelica, announces that she’s running for his paranormal romance seat. And local businessman Stan Berry throws his hat in the ring as well. at its finest, with the The breakfast meeting comes to a screeching halt and the list of candidates drops significantly when sexiest ‘dead’ man Tricia Miles, Angelica’s sister and owner of the local bookstore, finds Stan Berry dead in the hotel bathroom. since Dracula came The murder weapon is a brass letter opener which belongs to the inn’s receptionist. Unfortunately for Tricia, to town as one of this is the second time she’s found a dead body in a local bathroom, and this time her sister is considered a the primary characters. Readers prime suspect. have walked hand-in-hand with Of course, Angelica asks Tricia to clear her name. Angelica figures that, because Tricia reads (and sells) Graham’s warriors as they kept the so many mysteries, she can figure out whodunnit in no time. And the fact that Tricia is a close personal friend night, the moon, the shadows, and of the local police chief should make solving this crime a snap. now the dawn, and Graham has Nothing is ever that simple, and as Tricia begins to dig into the life of the victim, she discovers personal made sure to keep up the passion, information that is better left buried. Like the victim. And a Chamber full of people who had grudges against thrills, and chills throughout every him. tale. “Not The Killing Type” is the sixth in theBooktown mystery series by Lorna Barrett. Lots of fun! A warning regarding the Reviewed by Susan Santangelo, author of “Class Reunions Can Be Murder” for Suspense Magazine ■ Hildegard Tomb was given to Alessande Salisbrooke; she knows THE SHADOW YEAR the horrors that once happened By Hannah Richell inside the eerie location. A shape- I went into this book with no expectations, so finding myself up into the wee small hours, shifting magician who coveted completely gripped by the story and unable to put it down until I finished was a pleasant evil had once reigned, and his surprise. followers had proven their loyalty The basics? Five friends stumble upon an abandoned lakeside cottage hidden deep in by carrying out the horrific rite of the English countryside on a hot summer’s day in the eighties. Having just graduated college, human sacrifice. they decide to take something of a gap year, moving into the cottage, living off the land, and Investigating the past can dropping out of mainstream society. All is initially well, but as the seasons change, tensions begin to rise. An bring it back to life, but Alessande unexpected stranger brings further tension and intrigue to the tale, and things hit a peak shortly thereafter. cannot get over the fact that she In a parallel story, thirty years on from the lost year by the lake, Lila is given a key to the cottage by a believes the brutality surrounding mysterious stranger. Her life, filled with sadness after a recent tragedy, sees her deciding to take a break from the Hildegard Tomb has something life as she knows it to renovate the cottage. By the books’ climax, it becomes clear just how the previous to do with the murder of her friend. tenant’s time at the cottage has implications for her future. Being that Alessande is a Keeper, “The Shadow Year” draws you in slowly at first—it even came off a little too dark and depressing for the and devoted to her mission as first few chapters. Within twenty pages, however, I was firmly gripped in the story and didn’t put it down from well as her loved ones, she runs there until I had finished (I have the gravy smudges on a few pages to prove it.) The writing is skillful and taut, headlong into a nightmare. and Richell gives you just enough information at a time to keep you intrigued and thoroughly hooked. Mark Valiente (who every Having read a lot of books in this genre over the years, it was a testament to Richell’s story telling skills woman with a pulse swoons over), that I didn’t start to suspect the final twist in the tale until very close to the page it was revealed. is the cop who helps his beautiful Reviewed by Mel Hearse http://anadventureinreading.blogspot.com.au/ for Suspense Magazine ■ Keeper on her mission. And although he makes others’ pulses HOTTER THAN HELEN KILLING RACHEL race, his remains silent. (He is a By Susan Wingate By Anne Cassidy vampire after all). What could be hotter than hell- Rose’s mother disappeared several years ago, as As they journey to the truth, en? Perhaps Susan Wingate with did Joshua’s father. The two of them are family in a way, the thrills come from both passion this novel, the second in the Bobby’s siblings, and yet aren’t and there are mixed feelings. Some and fear when Alessande barely Diner series. of friendship and maybe more for one of them. They are escapes becoming a sacrificial Georgette Carlisle is happy. determined to discover what happened to their parents, victim, and adding another notch She’s getting married, owns a diner, regardless of what a previous investigation shows. to the Hildegard belt. A nightmare loves her cat, and has some wonderful friends, Rose is a bit distracted from their search as her is one thing, but when Mark and including the mayor of Sunnydale, whom she former friend from boarding school, Rachel, starts Alessande uncover a web of lies that considers a daughter. Everything is going great. sending her messages needing to speak with her urgently. include the ones they trusted, that’s That is, until her friend Helen shows back up in Because of past issues, Rose ignores the requests. When when the true darkness arrives. town. Then all ‘hel-en’ breaks loose. Rachel turns up dead, Rose is determined to figure out Declan, Sailor—you’ll love Georgette’s world is turned upside down. exactly what happened to Rachel and why. The clues that are left that she searches to find, may them and they’re back! Graham Her cat is missing, her fiancé becomes unfaithful, has written more than a hundred just turn out to be more than initially believed. Joshua is Helen is discovered murdered, and the mayor is delving into their parents’ last case and going on ‘feelings’ novels during her career, and abducted. And the culprits behind it all are really seeing as that she’s never let a fan as well as clues to get closer to the truth. down yet, there’s sure to be at least working for someone else. Enjoyable mix of family dynamics a hundred more to come! A suspenseful and well-penned novel that is and mystery, this book keeps you reading Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author sure to entertain you this summer. Read on! until the end. of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of Reviewed by Ashley Dawn, author of Lowery Book Two” published by “The Other Side: Melinda’s Story” published “Shadows of Pain” published by Suspense Suspense Publishing, an imprint of by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Publishing an imprint of Suspense Suspense Magazine ■ Magazine ■ Magazine ■

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  36 CHIHUAHUA CONFIDENTIAL NIGHT TERROR By Waverly Curtis ANTHOLOGY Seattle P.I. (don’t call her a Girl Friday!) Geri Sullivan is back solving another mystery with Edited by Karen Henderson the help of her Chihuahua, Pepe. Geri adopted Pepe from a local animal shelter, and they’ve developed a unique relationship—Pepe talks and Gerri is the only one who can understand Since the rise and rise of him. And Pepe, who is addicted to Spanish soap operas, is super smart, super cute, and a true e-Books, short stories and novellas Lothario when it comes to wooing potential girlfriends like a cute Pomeranian named Siren have become increasingly popular. Song. I think of short stories as a sorbet When Siren Song’s owner, the wealthy Rebecca Tyler, decides to shoot a television pilot for between longer books; something a reality show called Dancing With Dogs, Pepe convinces Geri that they should be one of the dancing couples. to refresh your palette before He’s thrilled to leave rainy Seattle for the golden sunshine and glitzy lifestyle of Los Angeles, especially when moving on to that six-hundred- he learns that starlet Caprice Kennedy will be one of the show’s judges. Pepe claims that he once belonged to page tome or if you are a Stephen Caprice, but Geri doesn’t believe him, since he’s also told her that he once fought a bull in Mexico, raced in the King fan, one-thousand plus page Iditarod in Alaska, and wrestled an alligator in an Alabama swamp. doorstop. When one of the reality show judges is found murdered before the dancing lessons even start, Geri and The “Night Terrors Pepe realize they’ve become much more involved in solving a mystery than learning the tango or being fitted Anthology” edited by Karen for matching costumes. Then Siren Song, and Caprice Kennedy’s new dog, Princess, are kidnapped and Pepe Henderson of Kayelle Press is and Geri decide to deliver the ransom so they can catch the criminals. a creepy little anthology of all “Chihuahua Confidential” is the second book in this delightful series by mystery writing team Waverly things nasty with an abundance Fitzgerald and Curtis Colbert, using the pen name of Waverly Curtis. I give it ten dog bones—it’s a hoot! of demons, vampires, ghosts, and Reviewed by Susan Santangelo, author of “Class Reunions Can Be Murder” for Suspense Magazine ■ the undead. Inside are seventeen top-notch horror stories from HER LAST BREATH international authors; many of By Linda Castillo whom are award winners. Speaking of breath, I held mine while reading this latest novel by Castillo. As typical of this The quality of the stories author’s quality of work, “Her Last Breath” is another shocking story centering on the lives of ranges from very good to the Amish. exceptional. The first of the An Amish family of five is reduced to two when a senseless slaying occurs. Coming back anthology, A World Not Our Own from a weekly visit with the doctor at dusk, Paul Borntrager slowly leads his horse and buggy by J.C. Hemphill, proves you can’t and his three special needs children cautiously through an intersection only to be hit by a trust vampires and is as far from speeding vehicle. Two of the three children and Paul die. “Twilight” as a good vampire story Mattie, the mother is crushed and grieves when she hears of their deaths. She nurtures her sole remaining should be. child David back to health. But that’s not the end, not even close. Discovering that it was not just an accident Now the publishing and film and unsure if Mattie or Paul was the target of someone’s rage, Kate Burkholder, Chief of Police in Painter’s Mill and television world have fallen in leads up the investigation and tries to protect Mattie and David from further happenstance. love with zombies, zombies have But Kate is working through personal issues of her own involving a lover—whether or not she should become the new black. Move over take a chance and commit—and her sordid past that is coming back to haunt her. Kate feels the sting from Edward. Read Share the Love by the loss of the Borntrager family because she is not only ex-Amish but also because Mattie was her best friend Chris Donahue to get your quality while growing up. Devastation after hardship spins Kate through a spiraling tunnel, only to end up being zombie fix. the killer’s target when she gets too close to the truth of the murder of the Borntragers. When I read who White Lines, White Crosses by was behind the deaths and the calamity surrounding it, I was astounded. I wasn’t right about one person I Andrew J. McKiernan could have suspected. been written by Stephen King. It Castillo has always been able to—and probably will always do so—flabbergast me. Another fantastic is a cool little ghost story about story. a teenager’s desire to fit in and Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Other Side: Melinda’s Story” published by Suspense the price he pays when the peer Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ pressure comes from the other side GENERATION V of the grave. It is seriously dark and By M.L. Brennan beautifully paced. This is the first in a brand new series that centers on (you guessed it) vampires. Yes, the There is also a few classics metaphors and sarcastic barbs may race through the skull; however, if the rolling of the eyes thrown in for good measure. They can stop for a minute, there is one thing that readers should most definitely know about this are just as fresh today and fit right particular book. It’s good. in with their modern counterparts; We begin with Fort (short for Fortitude) Scott, who is what you would call a vamp-in- Edgar Allan Poe’s A Tell-Tale training. Half-and-half, Fort grew up basically normal and wants to stay that way. He has literally Heart, The Dead Girl by Guy de no desire to transition into a full-fanged ‘baddy’ when he reaches adulthood. Not to mention, Maupassant and A Ghost Story by his relatives are so mean that he definitely does not want to be like them. Mark Twain. Fort attempts to slow down his change by making a living working in a coffee shop and living in an The “Night Terrors apartment away from his blood-sucking family. His mama, Madeline, is a little heartless and creepy; his sister, Anthology” is a solid collection Prudence, would turn a cold fish…cold; and his brother Chivalry, who was born around the Civil War era, is with some truly enjoyable, a real hunk. Very aloof, but most people actually like him. clever tales that will stay with Suzume is a shape shifter sent to watch over Fort as he tries to stay human. Being able to shift into a fox, you whether you want them to she is just as sly as the animal she becomes. And Luca is the real stinker here; the bad guy who wants nothing or not. The “Creepy” Badge of more than to infiltrate the family’s territory. Honor is awarded to editor Karen The suspense is all over the place in Fort’s life, as people go missing and he tries to exchange his fated Henderson for having a great feel black cape for the Superman red and blue. If you’re looking for the fluffy romance of a Twilight saga, forget it. for a good story. This is way better. (Yes, I can feel the angry glares right now). Reviewed by Susan May http:// With a cool cliffhanger that will lead readers to the next installment, this may be one vamp series that will susanmaywordadventures. step away from the pack and shine. blogspot.com.au/ for Suspense Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Magazine ■ Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 37 RAVEN GIRL OF GRAVE CONCERN By Audrey Niffenegger By Max McCoy For any reader who misses those real, rootin-tootin westerns, you will be truly fascinated My ten and twelve year old with this work. The author, who has penned a variety of “Indiana Jones” tales and is an award- boys are, sadly, at an age where winning writer of the western genre, takes this cowboy plot in a brand new direction. they don’t want me to read to Ophelia Wylde has many gifts; one of which is her ability to talk to the dead. She has been them anymore. In fact, thanks left a widow because of the angry battles in the Civil War, and is now attempting to leave the past to iPads, X-boxes, and cable TV, behind by heading west. they don’t want to read anymore. Leaving New Orleans, Ophelia’s final destination is Colorado, where she has an appointment However, they both to give a lecture/demonstration of spiritualism. However, her new life gets put on hold when Ophelia finds expressed interest in me reading herself in Dodge City, arrested and charged with murder. them “Raven Girl.” In the end, The arresting officer claims that Ophelia’s real name is Kate Bender, a woman who really is guilty of my hubby sat in and for several murder, and throws Ophelia in jail. Managing to find a lawyer, she’s turned loose until she can go before the nights, we eagerly anticipated the judge and somehow prove that the officer got it wrong. She needs to clear her name in order to escape the next reading. It was a wonderful hangman’s noose. experience. First they wanted to Jack Calder is a bounty hunter and more than a bit skeptical about not only Ophelia’s situation but also read it, then they didn’t want me about her supposed psychic gifts. He stands by as Ophelia gives a few spiritual shows, provides readings to to stop. They loved the story and people who need them, and tries to talk to the dead. The townspeople soon think she might be running a small wanted it read again. A miracle. scam. Becoming an angry mob, they take Ophelia to “Boot Hill” and bury her alive. Only then do the real dead “Once there was a Postman begin to speak…and they have a whole heck of a lot to say. who fell in love with a Raven.” This is a fun read with characters that fit perfectly in that western genre. But this plot is far more thrilling The opening line in this when the Old West meets the paranormal realm head-on for an unforgettable ride. modern-day, dark fairy tale begins Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense a marvelous tale of a postman Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ who “thought he had seen just STOKER'S MANUSCRIPT about everything Her Majesty’s By Royce Prouty Postal Service could offer in the With all the vampire books flooding the market recently, it’s hard to find an original and way of danger and difficulty, fresh take on the legend. Royce Prouty, though, has accomplished it. In “Stoker’s Manuscript,” hilarity and boredom.” When he he imagines Bram Stoker had guidance in creating “Dracula”—a guide who wasn’t happy with rescues a baby raven, which has the result. fallen from her nest, they fall in Rare book expert Joseph Barkeley is hired to authenticate and purchase the original draft of love and eventually have a baby “Dracula” along with the author’s notes. Included in this version are a foreword and an afterword raven girl who has human form, that were removed after a fire destroyed Stoker’s first publisher along with the to-be-published manuscript. but speaks in raven. The raven Barkeley brings the manuscript to Bran Castle in Romania, the legendary home of Vlad Dracul. He’s told that girl is not happy with herself and the manuscript will be a centerpiece on display as part of the reconstruction of the castle as a tourist attraction. seeks to be transformed. For Barkeley, the trip to Romania is a journey into his personal history. He and his brother were saved Niffenegger has collaborated from a state orphanage there after his English father killed their Romanian mother and then committed suicide. with Royal Ballet Resident They grew up as the wards of nuns in Chicago, and while it was far from ideal, it has allowed him to create a Choreographer Wayne McGregor pleasant, safe life for himself. But now the bill for their salvation has come due. to produce a ballet based on this Barkeley discovers that he is the prisoner of one of Vlad Dracul’s sons who sets a task for him: decipher book. It premiered at the Royal cryptic clues in the manuscript to discover the burial places of other members of his family. As he delves into Opera House in London in May the history of the manuscript and the world of the 1890s when it was written, Barkeley discovers his own 2013. history is wrapped up in the task. But can he save himself before his usefulness is used up? Audrey Niffenegger was Prouty weaves the story of the publication of the original novel and the history of Vlad Dracul and his on my list of beloved authors family into a satisfying and well-told story. The vampires here are the stuff of nightmares, just as in Stoker’s before this book. Her first novel, novel. For horror buffs, this is a pleasant return to form for the genre. “The Time Traveler’s Wife” was Reviewed by David Ingram for Suspense Magazine ■ an international bestseller and her second book, a ghost story ONE HOT MURDER entitled “Her Fearful Symmetry,” By Lorraine Bartlett is in my top reads. This is the third installment in theVictoria Square mysteries, and it’s just as cool as books one and two. Niffenegger puts words Katie Bonner has always dreamed of owning a B&B, but she found out—when her husband passed together from which spin magic. away—that he had used all of their savings to buy a mall that handled local crafts. This mall is already going She is also a talented artist. In down the tubes and Katie now finds herself the manager of a business she never even wanted. “Raven Girl,” she not only wrote a Her job is to deal with a lot of weird characters that have set up booths in her mall—some with very strong charming tale she also illustrated personalities and others that are just plain crazy. On the upside, Katie has a little romance going with the owner it beautifully using the 17th of the pizza parlor who’s also her landlord. Her only drawback seems to be the fact that she’s the local ‘Jessica century technique of aquatint, Fletcher,’ and every time there’s a crime, she finds herself right in the middle of it. which uses metal, acid, wax, and Katie is trying to get over her husband’s mistake of buying the white elephant that hangs like an albatross rosin to achieve delicate tone and around her neck, but can’t seem to stop whining. Even some of the mall characters are complaining that they’ve detailed images. heard the story over and over and Katie should just get over herself. Anyone, any age reading One very hot morning, Katie looks out her window and sees smoke billowing from one of the stores that this will fall in love with the tale sells wooden artifacts and furniture. Although not completely destroyed, a dead body is found inside, and the of the “Raven Girl.” It is a book victim did not die from smoke inhalation. of exceptional beauty and one to Ray Davenport, the trusted detective in charge arrives and is much nicer to Katie than he usually is, but treasure. there’s a reason for this new attitude. Reviewed by Susan May http:// The plot, yet again, is a whole lot of fun. Katie may whine, but she’s a strong character that wants nothing anadventureinreading.blogspot. more than to find the answers. Once again, the recipes in the back are scrumptious! com.au/ for Suspense Magazine ■ Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  38 SLICE THE GHOST RIDERS By William Patterson OF ORDEBEC Jessie Clarkson had a pretty good life when she was young, going to school and living in a By Fred Vargas small town in Connecticut. The only problem she seemed to have as a young woman was the fact that she couldn’t keep a boyfriend around for long. Her sister, Monica, actually stole her An ancient, thousand-year-old high school beau, and her best friend glommed on to her college love match. In order to get legend has the small French village even, Jessie decides to hook up with a motorcycle maniac, Emil, and show them all she’s landed of Ordebec in its grip in the latest a wild and crazy guy. Commissaire Adamsberg mystery Unfortunately, she’s right. One night, Jessie finds out that Emil is more than crazy, as she from author Fred Vargas. watches him take someone’s life. Running, Jessie heads to New York City to hide. She wants nothing more Fred Vargas (ironically a than to escape Emil, who just happens to be the father of the child she carries. female) has had international Informed that Emil is killed in a drug related battle in Mexico, Jessie decides to go back to her New success with the Adamsberg series England home now that he’s no longer a threat. and “The Ghost Riders of Ordebec” With Emil gone, hoping to settle down and live a normal life, Jessie establishes herself as an author. has just the right amount of mystery With her daughter, Abby, and nanny, Inga, Jessie heads back to Connecticut. Unfortunately, the good life and thrills to make this a domestic can’t be found. Killings suddenly start up again using Emil’s previous M.O., and each victim seems to have U.S. hit as well. a connection to Jessie. As the fear begins, Jessie must find out if Emil is still alive and has come back to seek The Ghost Riders of Ordebec revenge on all who did him wrong. are a legend based on the infamous With a bevy of characters, from best friends to high school beaus to a neighbor, John Manning, Furious Army of Normandy. This who’s a writer that allegedly murdered his wife, the cast is intriguing. A really fascinating thriller with a band of horsemen represented little of the paranormal thrown in for good measure, readers will really enjoy this fast-paced book. the most nefarious men in the Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by region and the legend of their ■ Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine reappearance marks the pending THE KING'S DECEPTION death of four suspect individuals. By Steve Berry Commissaire Adamsberg’s Cotton Malone, a former Justice Department agent, takes the reins of this latest Berry usual territory is Paris. His novel. With the author’s perfect research into modern and historical time periods, the reader involvement in the disappearance will be thrilled with this extremely engaging puzzle. of a man in the town of Ordebec In the history of Tudor England, there is a secret being hidden that, if it comes to light, is sparked when a mysterious will throw the Brits into a tizzy. Thanks to the machinations of Henry VIII and some of his woman named Lina appears at cohorts way back when, the secret has stayed hidden…until now. his precinct begging for his help. Cotton is retired from government service. Now the owner of a book shop in Copenhagen, he’s headed Having heard of his reputation, there with his teenage son. They will have a small stopover in London so Cotton does a favor for his ex-boss Lina feels Adamsberg is just the and agrees to escort a teen fugitive back to England. person to solve the mystery of the Unfortunately, upon arrival he and the boys are greeted in London by men with guns. Both boys are Ghost Riders and to stop them in kidnapped and Cotton finds himself pulled into a showdown between Britain and America concerning the the midst of their ‘great hunt.’ release of a terrorist. An international incident could commence, seeing as that the terrorist is the person who Adamsberg and a few of his brought down Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland. colleagues venture to Ordebec Blake Antrim, a CIA officer in charge of “The King’s Deception”—which is a case that has the CIA and and find a town in the grip of this MI6 running around like headless chickens to solve—joins the party. With his own investigation, Blake must ancient myth. Fred Vargas excels delve into the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, uncovering a shocking secret that may change the political realm when she builds up the level of forever. paranoia to a point where anyone Cotton has to be friend and foe in order to uncover the dangers of solving a kidnapping, letting a terrorist in the town may be a suspect and go free, and holding the secrets of sixteenth century English history in the palm of his hands. no one feels safe. As the body Good will not cut it here. Nor will great, fantastic, exemplary, or the other million adjectives given out count continues—including the for ‘5-star’ work. With this story, Steve Berry took wisdom, intelligence, and power, and ended up offering attempted murder of an elderly readers an incredible jewel. woman named Leo that Adamsberg Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by had grown fond of—the members Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ of Paris’ seventh arrondissement are at their wit’s end to solve the SAVING LAURA mystery and quell the growing By Jim Satterfield panic before it consumes all of A riveting, rapid paced, and well-written mystery thriller. Ordebec. Shelby Lee, continues to have feelings for his ex-girlfriend Laura. After leaving Shelby, As translated from the French Laura gets involved with a drug kingpin, Tom Tucker, who was in the middle of a big drug by Sian Reynolds, Fred Vargas’ deal. Shelby steps in and spoils the drug transaction by taking Tucker’s five kilos of cocaine “The Ghost Riders of Ordebec” and $75,000 dollars, hoping to use it as a bargaining chip to get Laura back and help clean up is a great blend of mystery with a her drug addiction. firm grounding in historical fiction After the robbery, Shelby needs to get out of town and meets up with a couple who is on the run from and legend that will keep readers the law. They end up in a shootout along the highway that leaves one officer dead and another seriously guessing right up to the last page. wounded. Shelby becomes a person of interest with local law enforcement and is hunted. He is also being Having been newly introduced watched by the DEA because of the drug transaction that went bad. to this series, I now look forward After hiding at his dad’s small cabin in the hills around Aspen, Colorado and dodging the law, he is able to catching up with Commissaire to return and find Laura who is also running from Tuckers gang, trying to find her own way. Together, with Adamsberg and his team and the help of a famous local author, a dog named ‘JAWS,’ and a ruthless DEA Agent, they are able to challenge eagerly look forward to their next Tucker and his desire to get his cocaine back and use Laura again as his drug addicted mistress. assignment. The story twists and turns and will keep you turning the pages with interest; that includes a group of Reviewed by Ray Palen for Suspense strong and committed characters. Magazine ■ Reviewed by Jerry Zavada for Suspense Magazine ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 39 SUGAR POP UNSPEAKABLE MOON By Kevin O'Brien By John Florio Suspense lovers will be thrilled to see another work by this author who is a master at keeping everyone on the edge of their seats. O’Brien is so skilled at bringing the reader into the fear, you’ll almost want to read this book with your eyes closed. Being the Olivia Barker is a hypnotherapist in the state of Washington who’s faced with an unusual problem. A perfect definition young man who claims his name is Russ Leander, even though the name on the caller ID is C. Stampler, sets up of ‘misunderstood,’ a meeting with the doctor. When he arrives for his session, Olivia feels as if she’s experiencing déjà vu because main character, the new client looks so familiar. Jersey Leo, is a bit of an outcast. He admits to Olivia that he had given her a fake name because he used to be a child-star, Collin Cox, and He keeps a low profile amongst didn’t want his identity known. Russ/Collin alerts her to the fact that something bizarre happened when he the tough guys working in the was hypnotized by a friend, and he wants Olivia to hypnotize him to see if it would occur again. Putting him speakeasy business in mobster-run under, a new personality suddenly enters the room by the name of Wade, and the game of fear begins. New York. Wade is frightening; he murdered a family back in the 60s in their hotel room. He goes on and on, listing An albino of mixed-race, violent crimes committed in the area that happened before her patient, Collin, was even born. Olivia knows the locals have given Jersey the nothing of these horrible slayings, but through hypnotherapy, she learns details of the killings that only the nickname Snowball. He works murderer would know. tending bar at a place called the Having no proof other than what she’s heard in her sessions, Olivia gets pulled into a nightmare. As the Pour House, which is owned by body count starts to pile up, her life is put in danger. Determined to find out what’s going on, she continues the mob and located in Hell’s seeing Collin, but the truth will amaze, astound, and scare her to death. Kitchen. He doesn’t have a group Every thrill-seeker who picks this one up should make sure they have their blood pressure checked before of guys to hang with, and even his reading. own mother abandoned him long Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by ago. Although his father is still Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ around, the man is a former boxer and doesn’t like Jersey spending VERLAND: THE TRANSFORMATION his time at a place owned by a By B.E. Scully notorious gangster. Part noir, part dark romance, part nightmare, “Verland: The Transformation” is a tale of loss, pain, One fine day, Leo buys some suffering, and redemption, woven into the construct of the vampire. counterfeit moonshine (AKA: Elle is a crime writer. Successful, she is still seeking answers to unspoken, unformed questions from her Sugar Pop Moon), with the boss’ mother’s murder two decades prior. Kingman is a Hollywood superstar with a string of directing hits under his money. No, Jersey isn’t trying to belt, who sits in prison convicted of murder. As Elle begins to write his story, a tale far more dark and haunting do himself in; in fact, he must turn emerges: a story of death, murder, necromancers, and vampires. Are vampires real? Who is Verland and can to his father to help him find the his diary be believed? bootlegger in order to save his own The narrative shifts dramatically between past and present, with Elle’s story juxtaposed with the diary life. But while Jersey is searching entries of this supposed vampire. Death and transformation create a thematic link between both stories. Verland is transformed into a vampire, but he also experiences a spiritual transformation. His descent parallels for the seller, there’s also someone Elle’s ascent out of her past as she delves deeper into Kingman’s frightening and bizarre world of wealth, power, waiting in the darkness searching and violence. The characters are well-drawn and the secondary cast is almost as delightful as Elle and Verland. for him. Delightful details enrich the narrative, which serve to keep the novel from getting bogged down in intense, The reader gets a taste of dark imagery and provide an edge of comic relief. Both Verland and Elle have a dramatic story to tell, and literally everything; from the Scully’s multifaceted narrative through the use of a diary makes it all work. historic areas of NYC; to an Do not let the presence of a vampire scare you. This is not horror as we know it today but a fast-paced interesting psycho who loves to thriller story that could stand alone as a superb crime fiction novel. The diary serves as a parallel story to wield a cleaver; to a Christmas- explore very dark themes. Scully explores the question of murder and death through both Kingman and the tree farm that is the location for vampire. They each represent the criminal element of the killer we fear in society. Reaching into the Gothic far more than just decorative pine literary tradition, Scully weaves a spellbinding fusion of crime thriller and supernatural tale. trees. In other words, this author Reviewed by Drake Morgan for Suspense Magazine ■ made sure to produce a fast-paced tale where you never know what’s VEILED THREAT coming next. By Alice Loweecey This book represents one of The coolest ex-nun turned P.I. in the mystery world is back for a brand new adventure— those good, old prohibition-style and the author has once again brought a whole lot of fun to the genre. If fans haven’t read the mob stories that brings a tear first two in this series, they should fix their mistake immediately. This is one author that has the to the eye and a laugh out loud, ability to take her characters into fascinating scenarios that ooze with intelligence. depending on the situation. Jersey Giulia Falcone, a former teacher in a convent, is up-to-date on current problems and is Leo can never be called a hero, a very astute investigator, having the ability to read people easily. In a relationship with Frank but he sometimes acts like one. Driscoll, her partner at Driscoll Investigations, Giulia and Frank run the gamut of friend, boyfriend and back He has a caring way for the people to friend, keeping a tremendous amount of respect for each other in the process. he works with—not to mention, The partners are asked by their friends, Anya and Laurel, to help them out because their adopted baby friends and family—but his real girl has been kidnapped. It doesn’t seem to the two women that the police are paying a lot of attention to their focus is on trying to save himself… plight, so they ask Driscoll Investigations to step in and make it right. and who can blame him? Giulia soon unearths two other kidnappings in cities nearby that mirrored this one exactly; the children After this small taste, readers were both taken from same-sex couples and both cases ended extremely badly. Going undercover as a will definitely hope that the author housekeeper in a local resort that catered to the other victims, Giulia sets her mind on finding out what’s going produces more Jersey Leo stories. on. But even with Frank and a friend of his from the police department backing her up, she still manages to Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author get into a bit of trouble. of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & The setting is Christmastime. And this third book in this very addictive series is once again a winner. The Lowery Book Two” published by author has used her own experiences to take her main characters on a ride to a surprising conclusion, and the Suspense Publishing, an imprint plot even offers a new little spark of romance which should make book four a blast! of Suspense Magazine ■ Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  40 THE TOWER THE NEVER By Simon Toyne LIST The third and final book in the Sanctus Trilogy, “The Tower” wraps up everything for the By Koethi Zhan reader in a nice little package after a high-speed adventure they will never forget. The director of the NASA Control Center in Maryland goes missing. The Hubbel Space As young Telescope is disabled; and even odder, the computers at the Control Center shut down. Only girls, from middle the director’s machine is working; the screen offering an ominous message stating: MANKIND school to the MUST LOOK NO FURTHER. preliminary years Enter FBI Agent J.J. Shepherd. Called by his FBI bosses to help in the investigation, Shepherd is more than in college, Sarah and Jennifer were a bit wary considering he will have to work alongside his immediate superior, Agent Benjamin Franklin. This inseparable. Afraid of everything is one man he wishes to avoid because he has been hiding secrets from Franklin for a good long time. Having from earthquakes to rapists, they no choice, Shepherd must answer the call of Assistant Director O’Halloran who believes his background in made up a series of rules. They science will be the ultimate asset to uncovering the truth. called it the Never List. Until Discovering a note written in the missing director’s handwriting, Shepherd believes that there may just be they unfortunately violated a a world of pain being brought about by cyber-attack. What follows is a myriad of violence: an explosion at an basic rule, “never get in a car with ancient monastery in Turkey; a deadly outbreak of a virus; and the disappearances of American reporter, Liv strangers,” their lives were pretty Adamsen, and ex-special forces operative, Gabriel Mann. straightforward. Shepherd and Franklin’s investigation takes them into a web of secrets and lies. When strange things begin When they realized that to happen with climate change and animals, weather and more, the two men must try and figure out the cause something about the cab ride before Earth is destroyed. was out of the ordinary, it was This book is so action-packed with so many revelations, locations, etc., that the reader will be thrown this too late. For the next three years way and that—from dark alley to brilliant stars—as they stick by Shepherd’s side to see how it all works out. they, and two other girls, where Readers will become absolutely engaged by this brilliant tale, wondering if the hero can win before the clock imprisoned in the basement of a strikes zero. Enjoy! house, brutally tortured, raped, Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense beaten, and starved. The opening Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ lines of this novel sound chillingly real: “There were four of us down TELL ME there…and then, very suddenly By Lisa Jackson and without warning, there were This book is absolutely tension-filled. Jackson is on top of her game with “Tell Me.” Nikki Gillette wants to three.” know what happened twenty years ago to her murdered friend Amity and wants someone to tell her. Amity’s With the three girls released mother Blondell was imprisoned twenty years ago based on the testimony of her son, Amity’s brother, that his and their captor, a former college mother is the one who shot them and killed Amity. professor, sitting in a jail cell, their A true crime author and writer for the Savannah Sentinel, Nikki goes on the hunt, investigating when she lives could go on, but for Sarah it should leave it up to her fiancé, Detective Pierce Reed. But that’s not in her nature. She gets more than just could never end there. Jennifer’s information for her articles and book however, when she runs into some nerve-wracking—both for the reader body was never found and she and the character—situations. During her and Reed’s investigation, Nikki finds out she has a stalker and figures can’t move on until she brings it has to do with the case. Is someone warning her to back off? She’s threatened on more than one occasion, closure to her situation. With the but doesn’t give up. reluctant help from the other two This romantic suspense will have you up all night reading, paging your way through the romance between girls that survived with her, they Nikki and Reed and the at-times very dangerous circumstances Nikki gets herself into. To say ‘I didn’t see it build a trail, going back into the coming’ may be cliché, but it’s very true. You will be astounded with the ending! past to move into the future. Their Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Other Side: Melinda’s Story” published by Suspense journey becomes a cross-country Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ chase involving religious cults and BDSM dungeons, all leading TOPPED CHEF THE COLD COLD GROUND back provokingly to her past jailer, By Lucy Burdette By Adrian McKinty a man who is about to be set free Most of us love those television Sergeant Sean Duffy is a Catholic police on probation unless the secret food shows. I know I do. But “Topped detective on a protestant police force. In 1980s location of the missing body can Chef” puts a fatal spin on lime cupcakes, North Ireland, that isn’t the ideal place, but he is be unraveled. shrimp and grits, chefs, judges, and the determined to be the best at his job as he can possibly As witnesses step forward, idea of a reality show and its winner when be. Protestants are suspicious of Catholics and many you wonder how the police could a judge—Sam Rizzoli—is murdered and have bounties on their heads. The hunger strikes, have missed these clues in their the other critics begin to worry about their safety. riots, deaths, and mayhem endanger everyone. original investigation. The three Hayley Snow works for Key West’s Key Zest—a With all the trouble brewing and bubbling girls once again find themselves magazine of which Hayley is a food critic. She is through the land, a man’s body being found isn’t trapped in their original torture assigned to be one of the judges for “Topped Chef” and surprising. It is thought to be a simple murder, but chamber and all the pieces fall into it could end up being her last assignment. Choosing when Duffy investigates, he finds it could be a serial place, leaving the reader twisting the right dish, eliminating cooks from the show, and killer targeting homosexuals. All investigations are in the wind as the startling ending commentating on film what she likes and doesn’t like complicated because of the political climate and jumps out from the darkest place are the easy duties of this competition for Hayley. The everything is questioned. with a loud BOO! hard parts for her are staying alive and trying to find Duffy investigates in his unique manner. He is A fast-paced, don’t-dare- out who murdered Rizzoli, while balancing a sort-of determined to unearth the truth and is willing to step put-the-book-down read that will relationship with one of the detectives investigating into harms way to find it. leave you cringing as your darkest Rizzoli’s murder. A history-filled police procedural and mystery fears emerge from the shadows as A delightful read filled with yummy recipes at the that keeps you interested and informed from start to Zhan takes you to the places you end with tangy suspects sprinkled throughout. finish. never wanted to go. Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Reviewed by Ashley Dawn, author of “Shadows of Reviewed by Mark Sadler, author Other Side: Melinda’s Story” published by Suspense Pain” published by Suspense Publishing an imprint of “Blood on his Hands” published Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ of Suspense Magazine ■ by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 41 THREE LIVES OF TOMOMI ISHIKAWA By Benjamin Constable Jodie Renner Editing Tomomi Ishikawa aka Butterfly is the perfect best friend for Ben. She is vivacious, loves to drink and smoke, and hang out in bars, alleys, and back rooms. Fiction Editing and She is also full of surprises...like leaving a suicide note Critiquing Services and a scavenger hunt for Ben. There is no body to grieve over, just a note she leaves him with her computer and a pen. She believes Ben can write well and what she shows him and what he finds www.JodieRennerEditing.com will make a really good story for him to put to paper. Ben is consumed with Butterfly’s death and plays along with Specializing in thrillers, what he believes to be her final request, a treasure hunt. Searching her romantic suspense, computer turns up files with some colorful, yet disturbing names that & other crime �iction make Ben feel quite uncomfortable. Unfortunately for Ben, it’s not a treasure he’s hunting but Butterfly’s very disturbing past. Butterfly leaves wild clues, making Ben climb statues, break into private property, and ride subways back and forth, over and over just to see if he can find the clue in the split second it appears through Look for Jodie’s craft of �iction articles on these blogs: a window. He is obsessed with this game until he finds himself wondering if he is in fact the game. Crime Fiction Collective, Blood-Red Pencil, The Thrill Believing he is enjoying the beauty of Paris and New York that Begins,“Jodie Writer’sRenner worked Forensics, with me and to transform Suspense my Magazine. thriller, only Butterfly would be able to see and share with him (that is her , from an exciting book to a tight, dying wish, right?), Ben discovers that beauty to her is also very suspenseful, heart-pounding thrill ride.” deadly. Butterfly shows him how she has helped others in her past, The Lonely Mile with their “sadness,” which, for Butterfly’s entertainment only, she “Jodie edited my last three novels and - Allan did aLeverone turns into complete depression for them. Following her clues leads terri�ic job. … Highly recommended!” Ben to discover that Butterfly was (and apparently still is) a very dark serial killer…he thinks. “I rate Jodie 6 stars out of 5!” - LJNo Sellers Remorse Relying on his imaginary cat, Cat, to keep him sane, he not only - Ian Walkley, follows Butterfly’s clues but Cat’s as well. Follow Ben and Cat on their Free sample edit for new clients scavenger hunt from the streets of Paris to the underground of New York City. A wonderful debut novel and a must read. Reviewed by Sherri Nemick for Suspense Magazine THE HEALER THE SHADOW TRACER By Antti Tuomainen By Meg Gardiner A thriller/mystery with a dash of ‘end of the world’ spice, this novel The novels that can be set into the ‘fantastic’ offers readers an interesting look at the vibrant area of Helsinki. category may be slim, but this standalone mystery by In the midst of constant rainfall that’s flooding the land, food and Meg Gardiner certainly found a place in that ‘elite’ water have become almost non-existent. With fading power across the group. city, the Internet and all electrical systems have turned unreliable. With As our story opens, readers are five years in the whispers of the plague coming forth, citizens are leaving the city in past watching Sarah run through the woods with her droves, making for greener pastures. In addition, Amazon rain forests are baby in her arms, when she’s confronted by a man. Sarah refuses to on fire and the United States has been attacked by missiles sent from drug stop and gets to her car. The man pulls a gun…but chooses not to fire. cartels in Mexico. It seems that most of Europe is at war, there is no police Five years later, Sarah, along with her daughter, Zoe, are living in protection or medical care and, frankly, unless you’re richer than Midas Oklahoma City where Sarah has a career as a skip tracer. Sarah locates you can forget receiving any help at all. people and then hauls them into court. In the midst of all this is the story of a serial killer roaming the streets Things are going just fine until Zoe is involved in a school bus of Helsinki, who has named himself The Healer. Killing families he feels accident that sends all the passengers to the ER. Zoe’s medical tests are responsible for creating the huge mess that the world now finds itself offer up a discovery that no one—certainly not Zoe—knew about: in, The Healer is good at his work. And because the police presence has Although Sarah is a relation, she is not Zoe’s mother. dwindled to almost nothing, the killer remains on the loose, causing Facts regarding the child’s birth start to flow, and after all is havoc wherever he goes. revealed (or is it?) police, FBI, even the U.S. Marshall, are on the Tapani Lehtinen, a poet, is one of the few people who still live in the hunt for Sarah and Zoe who once again have run. To top it all off, a city. The day his wife, Joanna goes missing, he suddenly finds himself on a mysterious group that perhaps had something to do with Zoe’s real quest to follow a murderous monster roaming the area. As Tapani searches mother are mob related, and will not stop until they get this child into for her, he discovers that his wife got a lead on The Healer and may have their ‘family.’ met with harm. But in this dystopian world, nothing is as it seems. As friends help Sarah and Zoe stay off the radar, Sarah must rely Scared and angry, Tapani must deal with secrets that actually link his on her well-honed skills as a skip tracer to help her avoid the pitfalls wife to the very killer he’s seeking. that occur when people attempt to stay off the grid. She hopes that the The author has done an extremely good job, causing people tracking her are not nearly as good as she is when it comes to readers to feel the shivers all around them as they try their doing the job right. best to make it through this strange, eerie world. A definite Plot twists galore, readers never quite know who the bad guys are keeper! or what they’re actually after. A ‘master’ writer, Gardiner is certainly Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: right on the money where this suspense is concerned! Well done! Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  42

Movies Monsters University 2013 Genre – Adventure/Comedy (G)

Over the past year, Disney has taunted us with trailers for Monsters University (MU), the prequel to Monsters, Inc., so by the time we snuggled down into our seats, we were absolutely ready to attend school with our pals, Sulley (John Good- man) and Mike (Billy Crystal). Robert L. Baird who wrote the screenplay for MU and the original, along with Cars and Tangled has the real ability to infuse true life into his characters. He writes a script with depth and heart. Add to this the voice talent of John Goodman and Billy Crystal and magic happens, making you totally forget you are watching ani- mated characters. Pixar rarely misses with their animations and it was a wise move bringing these beloved characters back to the screen with a prequel, allowing us insight into the friendship between the leads and the conflict with rival scarer Randall (Steve Buscemi). It’s not many films where we enjoy clichéd characters, but they work here, played for laughs; the retrenched salesman returning to University as a mature age student; the pudgy kid nobody wants on their team; the stern Dean Hardscrabble (Helen Mirren) who takes no prisoners; the sports’ jocks who rule the campus; and the nerd kids. We attend Monsters University with Mike before he and Sulley became best friends; in fact, when they don’t even like each other. Mike is the not-so-scary wannabe desperate for a career in the craft of scaring children, whose captured screams power the city of Monstropolis. He spends all his spare time studying. Sulley, son of a great scarer, doesn’t bother to study, believing his fantastic roar and pedigree guarantees him an automatic pass. After a mishap, which finds them both expelled, the pair is forced to team up, not just with each other, but the misfit O.K. (Oozma Kappa) fraternity to compete in the annual Scare Games which involve a series of inventive tests. If they win, the entire team will gain admission into the Scarer programme. There are sub-plots galore and the Monster world is expanded imaginatively. Watch for fabulous cameos of Monsters, Inc. characters. Since the original Monsters, Inc, animation fans expectations have grown and been dashed many a time. Pixar led in the beginning and with the delivery of MU, they are still winning. Perhaps we need a Pixar University for other studios to study the art of making films with heart. Reviewed by Susan May http://anadventureinfilm.blogspot.com.au/ for Suspense Magazine ■ Despicable Me 2 2013 Genre – Animation/Comedy (PG)

My family were not fans of the first Despicable Me so we weren’t skipping along to number two. Well, what a surprise! Great voice talent, plus a solid script, plus beautiful animation, all adds up to a film which the whole family will enjoy. Steve Carrell and Kristin Wig eat up the lead voice roles and the minions are simply hilarious. There is a fantastic scene over the end credits well worth the extra entry price to see it in 3D. Reviewed by Susan May http://anadventureinfilm.blogspot.com.au/ for Suspense Magazine ■

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  44 Movies The Lone Ranger 2013 Genre – Adventure/Action (PG-13)

It’s Pirates of the Caribbean western style and that’s by design. Gore Verbin- ski, the director, helmed the first three of the blockbuster ‘Pirate’ series and he’s brought the scriptwriters along for this latest big-budget Disney adventure. If you’re not weary of Depp’s oddball portrayals or viewing an adventure by the numbers, (insert desert for high seas), then this will please you. At 149 min- utes, there is probably too much back story in the beginning, winding up to what is a very solid final thirty minutes of action and fun. Tightened up by twenty minutes, it would have become a great piece of en- tertainment, but lately many of these summer blockbusters have gone with the concept that more is more, to the detriment of the film. Still, it has Johnny Depp playing an Indian and that is weird but quite entertaining. A warning to parents: Though it is Disney, it’s not for the littlies. There are some adult themes and violent action that will have them choosing to role-play as the nice Indians instead of the cowboys. It’s clearly a set up for a franchise, so I doubt it will be the lone, “Lone Ranger” for long. Reviewed by Susan May http://anadventureinfilm.blogspot.com.au/ for Suspense Magazine ■ The Way, Way Back 2013 Genre – Comedy/Drama (PG-13)

Here is another ensemble Indie coming of age piece dissecting American family values. This has wit and depth and a stellar cast. I love the way Steve Carell takes opportunities to play dramatically against typecast. He is quite unlikable in this. Toni Collette is her usual solid self and Allison Janney is seriously brilliant providing great comedy. When I received a preview invite, I replied to the publicist, “You had me at Sam Rockwell.” And it’s Rockwell, playing the cavalier manager of a water park who lifts this out of mediocre territory. I didn’t love the ending, but everything before was a real summer holiday. Reviewed by Susan May http://anadventureinfilm.blogspot.com.au/ for Suspense Magazine ■

The Hunt (Danish Foreign Language) 2013 Genre – Drama (R)

You will watch this film with your hand covering your mouth. This could happen to anyone and that makes it a horror film. Mads Mikkelsen who gives a thrilling performance in everything (catch him at the moment in the Hannibal TV series) is extraordinary as the innocent teacher accused of paedophilia. The blurb about this film is correct—it is the best drama you will see this year at the cinema. The Danes certainly know how to craft their films. My suggestion is don’t miss it. It will terrify you how easily life can be stripped from you. Reviewed by Susan May http://anadventureinfilm.blogspot.com.au/ for Suspense Magazine ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 45 Featured Artist

A Dream

ComeTaire Lilith True Morrigan Interview by Suspense Magazine

Grimoire he question we’re asked the most about in regard to the magazine is always “Where do you find your artists?” TOur artists come from varied backgrounds; they’re professionally trained to self-taught, digital photo-manipulators to photographers, from here in the U.S. to South Africa. That’s where this month’s featured artist, Taire Lilith Morrigan, hails from. The answer is relatively simple. The online art community, though vast, is a very close-knit group. In our early years, we simply pounded the pavement and tracked them down and now after years of promoting such talented and diverse creative artists, Malevolence oftentimes they find us as was the case with Taire. “Art is my passion and my dream brought to life, a place where I can disappear from the world and create my own, I’ll keep it forever,” says Taire on her deviantArt site, and this self-taught artist lives her mantra. Inspired by everything from books and music to mythology and movies, Taire digs deep and uses her personal emotions to connect an idea to a new piece. A deeply passionate perfectionist, Taire began using Photoshop in 2010, but without a background in graphic design, it wasn’t a comfortable medium and she spent her time learning the software and working in other areas. Comfort in the digital medium came to fruition in mid-2012 and she’s been unstoppable since working with authors and musicians on commissioned work. We’re sure that you’ll agree that Taire’s an ideal fit for the July featured artist spot.

Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): Of all your incredible pieces, which is your favorite and why? Does each have its own story?

Dies Novus Taire Lilith Morrigan (T.L.M.): I can’t really decide which piece is my favorite. I would have to say “Amor Divina”—one of my older pieces; it is a very personal piece—or “Dies Novus,” my very first digital painting. It could also be “Eternal Fire”; I loved the outcome of this piece. It has a meaning as all of my works do. The name Eternal Fire and the reference to the heart, for me, means true love is forever. It is passionate just like the flames of a fire. It can only die if it is not nourished to keep it going.

S. MAG.: Money, possibility of fame, or the fun of it? What motivates you?

T.L.M.: Neither. Just the passion in doing something I love every day.

S. MAG.: If you couldn’t be an artist, what profession would you choose and why?

T.L.M.: A musician or photographer. That way I can still create beautiful things and share them with the world.

Outcast S. MAG.: When did you first realize you had a passion for art?

SuspenseMagazine.com 47 Secret Window

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  48 “Art is my passion and my dream brought to life...” T.L.M.: I was very young. I always loved to sketch and paint.

S. MAG.: Do any artists—present or past—influence your work?

T.L.M.: I would have to say Victoria Frances and Elena Dudina, as well as William Shakespeare, even though he was an artist of another form. Eternal Fire

S. MAG.: Describe a day in your life.

T.L.M.: When I am not busy with life issues, I am mostly working on art. I become inspired by books and music, so the moment I see something in my mind that reaches a deeper meaning within myself, I am inspired to portray it in an art form. Even though everyone interprets art differently, I enjoy expressing myself this way.

S. MAG.: What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever been given?

T.L.M.: Never let go of your dreams.

S. MAG.: Do you have any superstitions when you develop a new piece?

T.L.M.: Not at all. It is just expression of feelings and emotions.

S. MAG.: What is your biggest personal and professional accomplishment? Amor Divina T.L.M. Becoming a digital artist; it has opened up doors to achieve my dreams as an artist.

S. MAG.: What are your plans for the future?

T.L.M: To share my artwork in galleries all over the world and give aspiring artists the belief in themselves to never give up on their dreams.

We’d like to thank Taire for spending time with us and if you’d like to see more of this talented artist, we invite you to check out her portfolios at http://morriganart.weebly.com, www.facebook.com/MorriganArtwork, or www.morriganart.deviantart.com. ■ Model/Photographer Credit: “Grimoire” Model/Photographer: Aruni, http://devious-stock. deviantart.com; “Malevolence” Model: Monique Wanner, Photographer: Cathleen Tarawhiti, http://cathleentarawhiti.deviantart.com; “Dies Novus” Digital Painting, no model; “Outcast” Model: Natalia Gautier, http://www.modelmayhem.com/827849; “Secret Window” Model: Poppy Isabella Wyrd, Photographer: Cathleen Tarawhiti, http://cathleentarawhiti.deviantart. com; “Eternal Fire” Model/Photographer: Jessica Truscott, http://faestock.deviantart. Chastity com; “Amor Divina” Models: Taire Lilith Morrigan and Roger Morkel; “Chastity” Model/ Photographer: Jessica Truscott, http://faestock.deviantart.com

SuspenseMagazine.com 49 NOW IN PAPERBACK

F R O M # 1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR Daniel Silva “Silva builds tension with breathtaking double and triple turns of plot.” —People

• • • • • Ancient treasures, dangerous secrets, and a murder at the Vatican only master spy and art restorer Gabriel Allon can solve… • • • • • “Gabriel Allon is one of the most intriguing heroes of any thriller series.” —Philadelphia Inquirer • • • • •

DanielSilvaBooks.com Richard Godwin A Renaissance Man Interview by Suspense Magazine Press Photo Credit: Provided by Author ichard Godwin writes dark crime fiction, horror, and poetry, is a Rproduced playwright, and his stories are published in over twenty- eight anthologies. Born in London, Richard has bachelor’s and master’s degrees in English and American Literature from King’s College London, where he also has lectured. He conducts interviews with other authors (Chin Wags At The Slaughterhouse), which can be found at his blog: http:// www.richardgodwin.net/blog. He is a public speaker and in March 2013, spoke at The House of Lords in London for cultural diplomacy. Godwin is an active member of the Crime Writers Association, Horror Writers Association, International Thriller Writers, and Sisters in Crime. With regard to his fiction writing, he has penned several novels that are available in the U.S. and the UK. His newest release, “One Lost Summer,” was just released on June 14. It’s a psychological portrait of a man who blackmails his beautiful next-door neighbor into playing a deadly game of identity. We were able to ask him a few questions and here is what he had to say:

Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): You’ve been a speaker at The House of Lords. How did you get involved in this?

Richard Godwin (R.G.): I was invited by the Institute of Cultural Diplomacy via my website. They were hosting a series of events involving the Mayor of London and many other politicians and diplomats and wanted involvement from the Arts.

S. MAG.: We indicated above a lot of your attributes. What can you tell us about yourself that would surprise your fans?

R.G.: I am an easygoing, funny guy. I am also a great cook.

SuspenseMagazine.com 51 S. MAG.: Which one of your fiction books was the most difficult to write? And why?

R.G.: “Mr. Glamour.” The reason being I had written it and shelved it, then realized there was a great subplot there and the main plot had problems, but could work. This resulted in my tearing the spine out of the book. I had to rewrite sections then check carefully. It reads really well now. But it took eight edits.

S. MAG.: You have to choose only one author to read for the rest of your life. Who would it be?

R.G.: Shakespeare.

S. MAG.: What steps did you take to develop your characters? Did you draw on personal traits?

R.G.: I think the unconscious mind takes what it needs and merges elements. I am always observing, making note mentally or otherwise, you create hybrids.

S. MAG.: In the whole time you’ve been writing, what is the most shocking thing you’ve learned about the process of publishing along the way?

R.G.: The series of decisions the big houses made that invited Amazon to take lead. The reason they did so is simple. Publishing is part of free-market capitalism and therefore open to the same monopolies as any other business. Many houses ignored fresh talent and dismissed the advent of e-readers.

S. MAG.: How does the ever-changing world of technology influence your characters and/or plots in your books?

R.G.: I think we live in an age of surveillance, and “One Lost Summer,” my latest novel, dramatizes that. It is a dark noir story of fractured identity and ruined nostalgia and it explores the fact that because of technology we have been made watchful, we are looking and being observed. But do we know who is watching us?

In the novel, when Rex Allen moves into a new neighborhood in a heat wave and begins spying on his next-door neighbor, beautiful Evangeline Glass, his obsession ends in disaster.

S. MAG.: What historical event would you like to have witnessed in person?

R.G.: The rise of the Roman Empire.

S. MAG.: What is the worst job you ever had?

R.G.: Working for a multinational market research company years ago. Utterly meaningless.

S. MAG.: Which of your books would you recommend to subscribers of Suspense Magazine?

“I think we live in an age of surveillance, and “One Lost Summer,” my latest novel, dramatizes that.”

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  52 R.G.: “One Lost Summer” and “Apostle Rising.” Here are the publisher’s blurbs:

“One Lost Summer”: Rex Allen loves star quality in women. He moves into a new house in a heat wave with few possessions apart from two photographs of his dead daughter. His next- door neighbor, beautiful Evangeline Glass invites him over to one of her many summer parties, where he meets her friends and possessive husband Harry. Rex feels he knows Evangeline intimately. He starts to spy on her and becomes convinced she is someone other than who she pretends to be. When he discovers she has a lover, he blackmails her into playing a game of identity that ends in disaster.

“Apostle Rising”: Detective Chief Inspector Frank Castle never caught the Woodlands Killer and it almost destroyed him. Now years later, mauled by the press and traumatized by nightmares, he is faced with a copycat killer with detailed inside knowledge of the original case.

He and his partner DI Jacki Stone enter a deadly labyrinth, and at its centre is the man Castle believes was responsible for the first killings. He’s running a sinister cult and playing dark mind games with the police. The investigation has a shattering effect on the lives of Castle and Stone. The killer is crucifying politicians, and he keeps raising the stakes and slipping through their hands. Dark coded ritualistic killings are being carried out on high-profile figures and the body count is rising. Castle employs a brilliant psychologist to help him solve the case, and he begins to dig into the killer’s psyche. But some psychopaths are cleverer than others.

“One Lost Summer” is high psychological noir suspense. “Apostle Rising” is darker and unresolved, and I am writing the sequel.

S. MAG.: What can you readers and fans expect from you next? Is there something special you’re working on?

R.G.: I have been contracted by Italian publisher Atlantis to write a miniseries and a novel for Christmas. It takes place in various European cities, with an emphasis on the crime of each city and with a Noir feel. Both the series and novel will be published in English and Italian.

We at Suspense Magazine would like to thank Richard for taking the time to talk to us and his fans. To find out more about him, please visit his website at: www.richardgodwin.net. ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 53 Special Preview from Author James Rollins

The Eye of God A Sigma Force Novel

By James Rollins

Summer, AD 453 Central Hungary

The king died too slowly atop his wedding bed. The assassin knelt over him. The daughter of a Burgundy prince, she was the king’s seventh wife, newly wed the night prior, bound to this barbarian lord by force of marriage and intrigue. Her name, Ildiko, meant fierce warrior in her native tongue. But she did not feel fierce as she quailed beside might taste the bitterness of the poison in his bridal cup, she the dying man, a bloody tyrant who had earned the name had been too timid. Flagellum Dei, the Scourge of God, a living legend who was She clutched the glass vial, half empty now, sensing said to wield the very sword borne by the Scythian god of other hands, higher even than King Gondioc, in this plot. war. She cursed that such a burden should come to rest in her His name alone—Attila—could open city gates and break small palms. How could the very fate of the world—both sieges, so mightily was he feared. But now, naked and dying, now and in the future—fall to her, a woman of only fourteen he seemed no more fearsome than any other man. He stood summers? little taller than her, though he was weighted down with Still, she had been told of the necessity for this dark thick muscle and the heavy bones of his nomadic people. His action by a cloaked figure who had appeared at her father’s eyes—wide parted and deep set—reminded her of a pig’s, door a half-moon ago. She had already been pledged to the especially as he had stared blearily upon her, rutting into her barbarian king, but that night, she was brought before this during the night, his eyes stitched red from the many cups of stranger. She caught the glimpse of a cardinal’s gold ring on his wine he had consumed at their wedding feast. left hand before it was hidden away. He had told her the story Now it was her turn to stare down upon him, measuring then—only a year past—of Attila’s barbarian horde routing each gurgling gasp, trying to judge how long until death the northern Italian cities of Padua and Milan, slaughtering claimed him. She knew now she had been too sparing with all in their path. Men, women, children. Only those who fled the poison given to her by the bishop of Valence, passed into the mountains or coastal swamps survived to tell the tale through him by the archbishop of Vienne, all with the of his brutality. approval of King Gondioc de Burgondie. Fearing the tyrant “Rome was doomed to fall under his ungodly sword,” the

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  54 cardinal had explained to her beside her family’s cold hearth. with a hinged top. It was unadorned, except for an inscribed “Knowing this sure fate as the barbarians approached, His pair of symbols on its surface. The writing was unknown Holiness Pope Leo rode out from his earthly throne to meet to her, but the cardinal had told her what to expect. It was the tyrant on the banks of Lake Garda. And upon the strength said to be of the language of Attila’s distant ancestors, those of his ecclesiastical might, the pontiff drove the merciless nomadic tribes far to the east. Hun away.” She touched one of the inscriptions, made of simple But Ildiko knew it wasn’t ecclesiastical might alone that straight lines. had turned the barbarians aside—but also the superstitious terror of their king. Full of fear herself now, she glanced over to the box resting atop a dais at the foot of the bed. The small chest was both a gift and a threat from the pontiff that day. It stretched “Tree,” she whispered to herself, trying to gain strength. no longer than her forearm and no higher, but she knew The symbol even looked somewhat like a tree. She touched it held the fate of the world inside. She feared touching it, its matching neighbor—a second tree—with great reverence. opening it—but she would, once her new husband was truly Only then did she find the strength to bring her fingers dead. to the chest’s lid and swing it open. Inside, she discovered a She could handle only one terror at a time. second box, this one of the brightest silver. The inscription on Fearful, her gaze flickered over to the closed door to the top was similarly crude, but clearly done with great purpose. royal wedding chamber. Through a window, the skies to the east paled with the promise of a new day. With dawn, his men would soon arrive at the bedchamber. Their king must be dead before then. She watched the blood bubbling out of his nostrils with The simple strokes meant command or instruction. each labored breath. She listened to the harsh gurgle in his Sensing the press of time, she steadied her shaking chest as he lay on his back. A weak cough brought more fingers and lifted the silver box’s lid to reveal a third coffer blood to his lips, where it flowed through his forked beard inside, this one of gold. Its surface shimmered, appearing and pooled into the hollow of his throat. The beating of his fluid in the torchlight. The symbol carved here looked like heart could be seen there, shimmering that dark pool with a union of the earlier characters found inscribed in iron and each fading thud. silver, one stacked atop the other, forming a new word. She prayed for him to die—and quickly. Burn in the flames of hell where you belong … As if heaven heard her plea, one last rough breath escaped the man’s flooded throat, pushing more blood to his lips—then his rib cage sagged a final time and rose no more. Ildiko cried softly in relief, tears springing to her eyes. The deed was done. The Scourge of God was at last gone, The cardinal had warned her of the meaning of this last unable to wreak more ruin upon the world. And not a mark. moment too soon. “Forbidden,” she repeated breathlessly. Back at her father’s house, the cardinal had related Attila’s With great care, she opened the innermost box. She plan to turn his forces once again toward Italy. She had heard knew what she would find, but the sight still shivered the similar rumblings at the wedding feast, raucous claims of the small hairs along her arms. coming sack of Rome, of their plans to raze the city to the From the heart of the gold box, the yellowed bone of a ground and slaughter all. The bright beacon of civilization skull glowed out at her. It was missing its lower jaw, its empty risked going forever dark under the barbarians’ swords. eyes staring blindly upward, as if to heaven. But like the boxes But with her one bloody act, the present was saved. themselves, the bone was also adorned with script. Lines of Still, she was not done. writing descended down from the crown of the skull in a The future remained at risk. tight spiral. The language was not the same as atop the triple She shimmied on her bare knees off the bed and moved boxes, but instead it was the ancient script of the Jews—or so to its foot. She approached the small chest with more fear the cardinal had told her. Likewise, he had instructed her on than she had when she slipped the poison into her husband’s the purpose of such a relic. drink. The skull was an ancient object of Jewish incantation, an The outer box was made of black iron, flat on all sides

SuspenseMagazine.com 55 invocation to God for mercy and salvation. as much for his keen strategies as for his brutalities. It was Pope Leo had offered up this treasure to Attila with a also said he had ears under every table. Had the king of plea for Rome’s salvation. Additionally, the pontiff had the Huns learned of the mysteries shared by the Nestorian warned Attila that this potent talisman was but one of many priest in Rome? Had he taken the celestial cross for his own that were secured in Rome and protected by God’s wrath, and hidden it away? Was that the true source of his sudden that any who dared breach its walls were doomed to die. To renewed confidence in sacking Rome? press his point, the pope offered up the story of the leader The shouting grew louder outside, the pounding more of the Visigoths, King Alaric I, who had sacked Rome forty urgent. years prior and died upon leaving the city. Despairing, Ildiko returned the skull to its cradle and Leery of this curse, Attila took heed and fled out of Italy closed the boxes. Only then did she sink to her knees and with this precious treasure. But as in all things, it seemed cover her face. Sobs shook through her as the planks of the time had finally tempered those fears, stoking the Hun’s doors shattered behind her. desire to once again take siege of Rome, to test his legend Tears choked her throat as thoroughly as blood had her against God’s wrath. husband’s. Ildiko stared across his prostrate body. Men shoved into the room. Their cries grew sharper It appeared he had already failed that trial. upon seeing their king upon his deathbed. Wailing soon Ultimately, even the mighty could not escape death. followed. Knowing what she had to do, she reached for the skull. But none dared touch her, the grieving new wife, as she Still, her eyes fell upon the scratches at the center of the rocked on her knees beside the bed. They believed her tears spiral. The skull’s invocation was a plea for salvation against were for her fallen husband, for her dead king, but they were what was written there. wrong. It marked the date of the end of the world. She wept for the world. The key to that fate lay beneath the skull—hidden by A world now doomed to burn. iron, silver, gold, and bone. Its significance only came to light a moon ago, following the arrival of a Nestorian priest Present Day from Persia to the gates of Rome. He had heard of the gift November 17, 4:33 p.m. CET given to Attila from the treasure vaults of the Church, a gift Rome, Italy once passed to Rome by Nestorius himself, the patriarch of Constantinople. The priest told Pope Leo the truth behind It seemed even the stars were aligned against him. the nest of boxes and bone, how it had come from much Bundled against the winter’s bite, Monsignor Vigor farther east than Constantinople, sent forward to the Eternal Verona crossed through the shadows of Piazza della Pilotta. City for safekeeping. Despite his heavy woolen sweater and coat, he shivered— In the end, he had informed the pope of the box’s true not from the cold but a growing sense of dread as he stared treasure—along with sharing the name of the man who had across the city. once bore this skull in life. A blazing comet shone in the twilight sky, hovering above Ildiko’s fingers touched that relic now and trembled the dome of St. Peter’s, the highest point in all of Rome. The anew. The empty eyes seemed to stare into her, judging her celestial visitor—the brightest in centuries—outshone the worth, the same eyes that, if the Nestorian spoke truthfully, newly risen moon, casting a long, scintillating tail across the had once looked upon her Lord in life, upon Jesus Christ. stars. Such sights were often historically viewed as harbingers She hesitated at moving the holy relic—only to be of misfortune. punished for her reluctance with a knock on the chamber He prayed that wasn’t the case here. door. A guttural call followed. She did not understand the Vigor clutched the package more tightly in his arms. tongue of the Huns, but she knew that Attila’s men, failing to He had rewrapped it clumsily in its original parcel paper, gain a response from their king, would soon be inside. but his destination was not far. The towering façade of the She had delayed too long. Pontifical Gregorian University rose before him, flanked by Spurred now, she lifted the skull to reveal what lay wings and outbuildings. Though Vigor was still a member below—but found nothing. The bottom of the box held only of the Pontifical Institute of Christian Archaeology, he only a golden imprint, in the shape of what had once rested here, taught the occasional class as a guest lecturer. He now served an ancient cross—a relic said to have fallen from the very the Holy See as the prefect of the Archivio Segretto Vaticano, heavens. the Vatican’s secret archives. But the burden he carried now But it was gone, stolen away. came to him not as his role as professor or prefect, but as Ildiko stared over to her dead husband, to a man known friend.

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  56 A gift from a dead colleague. crate. He reached the main door to the university and marched “This arrived for me earlier today. With no return across the white marble atrium. He still kept an office at the address, only the name of the sender.” school, as was his right. In fact, he often came here to catalog He turned back a corner of the wrapping to show her. and cross-reference the university’s vast book depository. Rivaling even the city’s National Library, it held over a million volumes, housed in the adjacent six-story tower, including a large reserve of ancient texts and rare editions. “Father Josip Tarasco,” Rachel read aloud. “Am I supposed But nothing here or at the Vatican’s Archives compared to to know who that is?” the volume Vigor carried now—nor what had accompanied “No, nor should you.” He stared over at her. “He was it in the parcel. It was why he had sought the counsel of the declared dead over a decade ago.” only person he truly trusted in Rome. Her brows pinched, and her posture stiffened. “But the As Vigor maneuvered stairs and narrow halls, his package is too pristine to have been lost in the mail for that knees began to complain. In his midsixties, he was still fit long.” She turned that discerning gaze back on him. “Could from decades of archaeological fieldwork, but over the past someone have forged his name as some cruel hoax?” few years, he had been too long buried in the archives, “I don’t see why. In fact, I think that’s why the sender imprisoned behind desks and stacks of books, shackled by addressed this package by hand. So I could verify it came papal responsibility. from Father Tarasco. We were dear friends. I compared the Am I up for this task, my Lord? writing on the parcel to a smattering of old letters still in my He must be. possession. The handwriting matched.” At last, Vigor reached the university’s faculty wing and “So if he’s still alive, why was he declared dead?” spotted a familiar figure leaning against his office door. His Vigor sighed. “Father Tarasco vanished during a research niece had beaten him here. She must have come straight from trip to Hungary. He was preparing a comprehensive paper on work. She still wore her Carabinieri uniform of dark navy the witch hunts there during the early eighteenth century.” slacks and jacket, both piped in scarlet, with silver epaulettes “Witch hunts?” on her shoulders. Not yet thirty, she was already a lieutenant Vigor nodded. “Back in the early 1700s, Hungary was for the Comando Carabinieri Tutela Patrimonio Culturale, beset by a decade-long drought, accompanied by famine and the Cultural Heritage Police who oversaw the trafficking of plague. A scapegoat was needed, someone to blame. Over stolen art and relics. four hundred accused witches were killed in a span of five Pride swelled through him at the sight of her. He had years.” summoned her as much out of love as for her expertise in “And what about your friend? What became of him?” such matters. He trusted no one more than her. “You must understand, when Josip left for Hungary, the “Uncle Vigor.” Rachel gave him a quick hug. She then country had only recently shaken free of Soviet control. It leaned back, finger-combing her dark hair back over one ear was still a volatile time there, a dangerous place to be asking and apprising him with those sharp caramel eyes. “What was too many questions, especially in rural areas. The last I heard so urgent?” from him was a message left on my machine. He said he was He glanced up and down the hall, but at this hour on onto something disturbing concerning a group of twelve a Sunday, no one was about, and all of the offices appeared witches—six women and six men—burned in a small town dark. “Come inside and I’ll explain.” in southern Hungary. He sounded both scared and excited. Unlocking the door, he ushered her across the threshold. Then nothing after that. He was never heard from again. Despite his esteemed position, his office was little more than Police and Interpol investigated for a full year. After an a cramped cell, lined by towering cases overflowing with additional four years of silence, he was finally declared dead.” books and stacks of magazines. His small desk rested against “So then he must have gone into hiding. But why do that? the wall under a window as thin as a castle’s arrow slit. The And more important, why surface a decade later, why now?” newly risen moon cast a silver shaft into the chaos found With his back to his niece, Vigor hid a smile of pride, here. appreciating Rachel’s ability to get to the heart of the matter Only after they were both inside and the door closed did so quickly. he risk clicking on a lamp. He let out a small sigh of relief, “The answer to your last question seems evident from reassured and comforted by the familiar. what he sent,” he said. “Come see.” “Help me clear a space on my desk.” Vigor took a deep breath and opened the hinged lid of Once that was done, Vigor placed his burden down and the crate. He carefully removed the first of the package’s two folded back the brown parcel wrap, revealing a small wooden objects and placed it in the shaft of moonlight atop his desk.

SuspenseMagazine.com 57 Rachel took an involuntary step backward. “Is that a “I can’t. But I forwarded a sample of the leather to the skull? A human skull?” same lab as the skull, both to test its age and its DNA.” Vigor “It is.” picked up the macabre volume. “But I’m sure I’m correct. I She moved past her initial surprise to step closer. She examined this under a dissection microscope. Human pores quickly noted the hen-scratched inscription across the bone are distinctly different in size and even shape from that found of the cranium, following the spiral of its course with a in pigskin or calfskin. And if you look closer, in the center of fingertip without touching. the cover—” “And this writing?” she asked. He drew a fingernail along what appeared to be a deep “Jewish Aramaic. I believe this relic is an example of crease in the center of the cover. early Talmudic magic practiced by Babylonian Jews.” “Under proper magnification, you can still make out the “Magic? Like witchcraft?” follicles of eyelashes.” “In a way. Such spells were wards against demons or Rachel paled. “Lashes?” impeachments for help. Over the years, archaeologists have “On the cover is a human eye, sewn shut with finer unearthed thousands of such artifacts—mostly incantation threads of sinew.” bowls, but also a handful of skulls like this. The Berlin Visibly swallowing, his niece asked, “So what is this? museum holds two such relics. Others are in private hands.” Some text of the occult?” “And this one? You said Father Tarasco had an interest “I thought as much, especially considering Josip’s interest in witches, which I assume extended to an interest in occult in the witches of Hungary. But no, it’s not some demonic objects.” manuscript. Though in some circles, the text is considered “Perhaps. But I don’t think this one is authentic. The blasphemous.” practice of Talmudic magic started in the third century and He carefully parted the cover, cautious not to overly died out by the seventh.” Vigor waved his hand over the skull stress the binding. He revealed pages written in Latin. “It’s as if casting his own spell. “I suspect this artifact is not that actually a Gnostic book of the Bible.” old. Maybe thirteen or fourteenth century at best. I’ve sent a Rachel tilted her head, well versed in Latin, and translated tooth to the university lab to confirm my estimate.” the opening words “‘These are the secret sayings which the She slowly nodded, contemplating in silence. living Jesus spoke …’ She glanced over at him, recognizing “But I also studied the writing here,” he continued. those words. “It’s the Gospel of Thomas.” “I’m well familiar with this form of Aramaic. I found many He nodded. “The saint who doubted Christ’s resurrection.” blatant mistakes in the transcription—reversed diacritics, “But why is it wrapped in human skin?” she said with wrong or missing accent marks—as if someone made a poor disgust. “Why would your missing colleague send you such copy of the original inscription, someone who had no true ghoulish items?” understanding of this ancient language.” “As a warning.” “So the skull is a forgery then?” “A warning against what?” “In truth, I suspect there was no foul intent in its crafting. Vigor returned his attention to the skull. “The incantation I think its forging was less about deception than it was about written here is a plea to God to keep the world from ending.” preservation. Some group must have feared the knowledge “While I certainly appreciate that plea, what does—?” found here might be lost, so they hand-made copies, trying He cut his niece off. “The prophetic date for that coming to preserve something more ancient.” apocalypse is also written atop the skull, in the center of the “What knowledge?” spiraling inscription. I converted that figure from the ancient “I’ll get to that in a moment.” Jewish calendar to today’s modern accounting.” He touched He reached to the crate and removed the second object the center of the spiral. “This is why Father Josip came out of and placed it beside the skull on the table. It was an ancient hiding and sent these items to me.” book, as wide as his outstretched hand and twice as tall. Rachel waited for him to explain. It was bound in rough leather, the pages secured by crude Vigor glanced out the window to the comet glowing in stitches of thick cord. the night sky, bright enough to shame the moon. With that “This is an example of anthropodermic bibliopegy,” he portent of doom hanging there, a shiver of certainty rang explained. through him. “The date for the end of the world …it’s in four Rachel screwed up her face. “And that means … ?” days.” ■ “The book is bound inhuman skin and sewn with sinew of the same.” Used with permission from William Morrow An Imprint Rachel took a step away again, only this time she didn’t of HarperCollins Publishers. Copyright © 2013 by James return to the desk. “How can you know that?” Czajkowski. All rights reserved.

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  58 An accident that turns out to be murder … a racist conspiracy … and a dirty bomb.

Can ex-military operative Joe Hunter face down a white supremacist gang — before they reduce the free world to ashes? Slash and Burn “Matt Hilton delivers a thrillon a minute. Awesome!”Who Dares Wins

—Chris Ryan, author of www.MattHiltonBooks.com

An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Brad Taylor Has a Tactical Advantage Interview By Suspense Magazine Press Photo Credit: Rod Pasibe

There are a handful of heavy-hitters his newest release “The Widow’s Strike,” mistake to not include that setting in the who come to mind when you think of his main character Pike Logan, and dynamics of the Taskforce’s attempts to the best authors in the political thriller what’s on the horizon. stop a global pandemic. My only regret arena: Brad Thor, Vince Flynn, Brad is that Pike Logan doesn’t wear a tuxedo Meltzer, and Brad Taylor. Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): Can and play baccarat, drinking a shaken Born in Japan, but raised in rural you give us some inside scoop on “The martini. Texas, Brad began his military career Widow’s Strike” that’s not on the back after graduating from the University cover? S. MAG.: This is your fourth Pike Logan of Texas. He served our nation for book. How has he changed from book more than twenty-one years, retiring Brad Taylor (B.T.): Well, for one, I left one, “One Rough Man”? from the U.S. Army as a Special Forces the Middle East as a setting. With the Lieutenant Colonel. Arab Spring and all the other turmoil B.T.: By the end of the third book, Consistent praise regarding penetrating throughout the Levant and “Enemy of Mine,” his redemption is the authenticity and believability of North Africa, I decided to go back to my complete. He’s grown out of the cesspool his characters is one of the reasons old Special Forces stomping grounds in where we first found him in “One Rough fans clamor for more. Brad uses his Southeast Asia. Doing the research for Man,” returning to what he once was. experience to breathe life into tough “The Widow’s Strike” was a blast, and Unintentionally, those first three books subjects that hit closer to home than there are some settings that I had no ended up completing a trilogy. In “The we’d like. intention of using, but ended up doing so Widow’s Strike,” he’s back in charge Brad took the time to talk to us because of my travels. and more than capable of solving the about problem of the Iranian Qud’s force. The For instance, the gambling true character growth is seen in Jennifer mecca of Macau, China, figures Cahill, who, after having some heinous prominently in the book, but things happen to her in “Enemy of Mine,” only because of happenstance. has become a bit hardened, and more We landed in Hong Kong with comfortable with her combat skills. To about fourteen hours before our that end, for the first time, Pike Logan’s flight was to leave for the United team begins to accept her as an equal, States. With nothing better to do instead of calling her a potential liability than sit around an airport, and (something, of course, they’d never say being mildly insane, we decided out loud to Pike, or even within earshot, to take a hydrofoil to Macau. as Decoy finds out to his detriment). Of course, we got no sleep whatsoever, but it was pretty S. MAG.: Why Pike Logan? What fun, and it would have been a made you think of him as your main

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  60 character? he or she will know a few things that they novels on the off chance that you’d find an wouldn’t have known otherwise. idea you could use? I wouldn’t. I’d come B.T.: Pike Logan has been bubbling in up with my own ideas based on specific my head for years. People always ask S. MAG.: Within the “The Widow’s weaknesses I found in the open press that if he’s based on someone specific, or if Strike,” which character had more of a I could exploit, which is exactly how I I’m writing about myself using fiction role than you originally planned? come up with my plots in the first place. I as a tool. The answer to the first part had a reader mention “Debt of Honor,” a is, “Yeah, a little bit.” Pike Logan is a B.T.: Surprisingly, it’s Elina, the Chechen book written by Tom Clancy in 1994 and compilation of men I have served with, Black Widow. Originally, she was nothing involving a hijacked aircraft being used but only in their skill set and dedication more than a tool for General Malik, as a weapon, as if that were a precursor to our nation. The baggage he carries is the commander of an Iranian Islamic to 9/11. But the truth is that scenario pure fiction. The answer to the second Revolutionary Guard Qud’s force. In my had been a threat for some time. part is a resounding no. I make it a mind, the book was going to be a little practice to never write about anything I bit of force-on-force, with the Taskforce Israel, in 1973, went on red alert because have ever done or witnessed, period. pitted against a state-sponsored terrorist they believed a hijacked aircraft was group, the Iranian IRGC Quds. They going to crash into Tel Aviv. It wasn’t In truth, I originally wanted to write would have a deadly ballet, with both a new idea, and Tom Clancy didn’t a story of redemption simply because entities fairly equal in terms of support create 9/11. It was a weakness that was I like that theme, and, in the end, I set and skill. exploited. A better question is whether out to write a story that I would like there’s anyone on the good-guy side who’s to read. I wanted to show a distinct As I wrote, though, Elina took more reading fiction and then plugging holes moral component for the work that men and more prominence, with the novel from the weaknesses that are shown. like Pike Logan execute. Too often the becoming a bit of a character study as to Answer: No. characters in Hollywood run around why someone would be willing to become killing or torturing people without a a suicide bomber, only in this case, S. MAG.: When writing military/ shred of remorse, instead throwing out instead of harming just those in the blast political thrillers, would readers be some wiseass quip, when that’s not really radius, she’ll release a pandemic that will shocked at things that are really true the case. sweep the earth. The Black Widows are and done by certain governments? a real Chechen phenomena, as are the A lot of time, effort, and thought go into Iranian Quds—but Elina became the B.T.: This is a two-pronged question, counterterrorist activities in the real central focus, so much so the book’s title given the revelations of the last world, and the men and women who changed to reflect that. couple of months. In today’s world, execute them operate within a moral everyone immediately believes the U.S. framework. They make decisions with S. MAG.: With terrorism hitting so government is doing evil, when I think life-or-death repercussions, and live with close to home, are you worried the those decisions—and not all are good subject matter in your books might memories. They aren’t robots. I wanted bring readers too much terror? to show that through the interactions between Pike—an operator experienced B.T.: Not at all. Just the opposite. Have with combat—and Jennifer, a relative you watched the nightly news lately? newcomer to what combat actually What scares me is coming up with a entails. scenario and having the reader say, “What’s the big deal? Why should I care S. MAG.: For readers new to your if the Taskforce stops this? I saw worse series, can they start with “The Widow’s on the TV last night,” followed by them Strike” and work backwards? putting the book down. Another question I get asked, in a similar vein, is whether B.T.: They certainly can. All of the books I think I’m giving terrorists an edge by stand alone. The only issue with reading creating the plots that I do, in effect, that “The Widow’s Strike” first—or any of the I’m giving them a blueprint. Once again, books out of order—is that they contain I’d say no, not by using fiction. small spoilers from the previous books. Little references that have no effect on the Think about it: If English was your plot, but if the reader is paying attention, second language, would you read fifteen

SuspenseMagazine.com 61 they’d actually be shocked at how hard S. MAG.: If Pike Logan is sitting in front of meeting a few real terrorists, and I it is to do anything in the intelligence of you, what would you like to ask him? always scratched my head after the fact, community due to the oversight in place. thinking, “Why does that guy want to kill We live in a democracy, and the men B.T.: He sits next to me every day I work everyone? He seems so normal. He seems and women who execute the activities I my keyboard. There’s really nothing so human.” write about do so under the constitution. I’d like to ask him. Or, more precisely, There is no Taskforce. nothing I haven’t asked him. I write an S. MAG.: What does the future hold for action-oriented series, but getting the Brad Taylor? It’s fiction, yet when someone like reader to associate with the characters— Edward Snowden leaks classified both on the “good-guy” side and the B.T.: Me, personally? Well, after I receive information, claiming huge breaches of “bad-guy” side—is what really matters this year’s Nobel Prize, I think I’m going the Constitution, everyone believes him to me. It’s the heart of why I write, and to be the first author aboard the space instead of all three separate branches of trust me, that’s led to a lot of WWPLD shuttle. Wait, what? They no longer fly our government and the leadership of questions of Pike Logan himself. Bullets the space shuttle? Do they still give out both parties saying it’s not true. I think flying around and bombs going off are the Nobel Prize, or was that a lie from people would be shocked at how little great, but they mean nothing unless my publisher as well? Seriously, as far as actually goes on in the “secret” world someone is viscerally affected by the writing goes, I just finished the first draft as far as real action. There are heck of action. That’s what brings the story to for “The Polaris Protocol” (to be published a lot more briefings and talking than life, and is the hardest thing I struggle in January 2014). Believe it or not, the any counter-terrorism activities, because with. At the end of the day, it’s the impact villain in this book is a contractor that there are about four hundred layers to of those actions on the characters that works for the intelligence community. wade through to ensure it’s legal. Layers makes a reader want to continue, and He believes in “transparent information” that are aggravating to people like me, something I “question” of Pike Logan and the “freedom of the internet,” and is but necessary. That bureaucracy is constantly. willing to harm our national defense by exactly what spawned the creation of giving up digital secrets. my fictional unit, The Taskforce. It was a S. MAG.: What do you think makes a little fantasy we would have liked when I great villain? And yes, I typed, “The End” two days was operational, but it isn’t real. before Edward Snowden became a B.T.: First and foremost, the reader has household name, although my villain On the other hand, organizations like to associate with him or her. Period. That doesn’t work for the NSA, but for the the Quds force are real. While they rarely association may not be pleasurable, but 50th Space Wing, which controls our make the news here in the states, the it has to occur. This means the villain, GPS constellation. I think the average Quds have been responsible for blowing just as the hero, must resonate with the reader will be surprised to learn how up embassies in Argentina, attempted reader. He or she must show motivations far GPS architecture has penetrated assassination of Saudi diplomats in and depth just as strongly as the hero. In into our society. There’s very little that the United States, attacks in Thailand, truth, unless you’re writing about aliens, isn’t touched by GPS, from the timing of and the latest, a deadly bombing attack the villain must be a human being, with your credit card swipes to the regulation in Europe. They created Hezbollah, all that entails. A flawed human, to be of Wall Street trades to the packet introduced tank-killing explosively sure, but a human being. synchronization of your cell phone calls. formed penetrators in Iraq, and are doing they’re damnedest to destabilize This is exactly what I was talking about People think of GPS as that annoying the country of Bahrain. And, of course, above when I discussed the Black Widow. voice in the car that gives directions, they’re all over Syria. I started getting into her head, and the but it’s much, much more. Yes, Pike next thing I knew, I could understand and Jennifer are in the thick of it, along They are a global worldwide threat, why she was doing what she was doing. with two different Mexican drug cartels, and yet nobody’s really heard of them. By the end of the book, I sort of liked her. Hezbollah, and a Palestinian assassin To me, it’s strange that most folks will I didn’t want to, but I did. I definitely known as the Ghost—a name that some immediately assume the United States think she will resonate with the reader, readers will recognize—recruited by Pike is doing evil at any given time, going but I’m not sure they’ll like what they to, of all things, help solve the problem. ballistic based on one traitor’s fount of feel. You want to hate her for what she’s lies, then shrug off other news reports trying to do, but you find it hard. We’d like to thank Brad for spending of real threats as exaggerations or not time with us. To learn more about this worth their effort to read. And, truthfully, at the end of the day, that’s very talented author, check out his the real world. I’ve had the misfortune website at www.bradtaylorbooks.com. ■

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  62 By Donald Allen Kirch Beware! The Vampire Hunter In every age there is a certain individual that sets the tone. During medieval times there was the knight-errant, sworn to protect those surrounded by the forces of evil. The Dark Ages held the terror of the Inquisition, and no one personified that terror more than the official Inquisitor. In the Far East, there was the stoic Samurai, sworn to his master by the immortal Code of Bushido to be forever a servant. Still another character walked these same halls, which like the con man of today played upon the fears and evils of his age, draining each village and populace of their life’s blood. Like the mythical monsters they hunted down and destroyed, they drained the life’s blood from the suckers who believed in them. They were simply known as “Vampire Hunters.” Those of you who read this article may laugh, but vampire hunting has been a lucrative business since the early 1700s, perhaps even farther back. The last recorded case of a hired hunter can be traced back to pre-Civil War days in Virginia, the United States, in or around 1860. Vampires, at least in the fear of men’s hearts, were big business and indeed considered quite real. Some claim that in certain parts of Eastern Europe this practice still lives on through modern witch doctors who use science and superstitions to line their pockets with ignorant people’s fortunes. What did it take to become a vampire hunter? Well, what does it take to be a vagabond, hobo, or con man? One needed resourcefulness, a little courage, and a lot of chutzpah. Showmanship was the name of the game. Without capturing your audience, what was the point of trying to convince a war-weary population, half sick with the black plague or cholera, that Uncle Joe had risen from the grave to become a bloodsucking troll? There is not a culture that, deep down, hasn’t feared the returning of the dead. A person in ancient times often associated bad omens with falling stars, the sudden changing of the weather, or in most cases, the unexpected death of a certain individual. After a funeral, especially if the participant had committed suicide, the body had been discovered at a crossroad or abandoned church, or who just “died” for no apparent reason other than to please Satan himself, a vampire hunter was desperately sought out. It was his duty, and expectation, to explain the death of the victim, to reassure the citizens that he was there to help stop the unknown evil, and to help cure those affected by the infected. A vampire hunter also had to be part psychologist. If he could read the fears of those who would later become his customers, he could go about his business pushing the right buttons, making it seem he had the ability to read minds and have magical spells and powers of his own. If he were supremely talented, this would become a family business that could be

SuspenseMagazine.com 63 passed down for generations, and indeed some in Germany, Great Britain, and America made a fortune on such supernatural endeavors. One thing was certain: If you were going to become, or be, a vampire hunter, you needed a “hunting kit.” Some referred to this as their “conjure kit” for those rare occasions a vampire could not be found. If this were the case, most would speculate that a ghostly force was at work, and suggested to those few who would pay, that an exorcism would be needed at any available crypt. Point of fact: As far as the Catholic Faith is concerned, places of the dead, homes, and inanimate objects CANNOT be possessed by an evil force. This would require a living soul to battle over, and the dead are long gone from that “earthly” equation. The kit itself could be as small as an average toolbox, or as huge as a wagon. It was said to contain all the earthly weapons needed to fight the undead. That, in itself, was never an easy task. Crosses, garlic, wooden Vampire Hunting Kits came in all shapes stakes, and stakes made out of silver, lead, and gold were paramount to the and sizes. As small as a toolbox or as vampire hunter. So were the variations of the theme. Unlike the vampires of the ’60s Hammer films, vampires walked the huge as an entire wagon. earth in many different guises. There were the traditional Dracula types of Credit: www.paranormalbites.com undead, which feasted upon the blood of the living, but there were also the unusual Vampires that sucked away youth instead of blood. Vampires that lived off the positive emotions of those around them. Even undead creatures that could sneak into the bedchambers of pregnant women and cause them to miscarry. Vampires could be both human and animal, and for a fee, of course, the cursed villagers could be enlightened as to what “classification” of Nosferatu they were facing. There were a few hunters who did this as a humanitarian act. They, in their own ways, had been victims of a sickness or unknown factor which caused deaths in their own families. As a means of helping with the pains of their own losses, they took up the mantle of becoming vampire hunters to help others. These people deserve respect. In their own crude way, they helped pave the way for science. Through acts of faith, observations, and dedication, they asked the right questions and created circumstances that saved lives. It is from these individuals that such noted writers as Bram Stoker and Ann Rice created their heroes. Once, in England, around the time Bram Stoker was researching his novel, and when Jack the Ripper ruled the areas around Whitechapel, there was a case of vampirism. A well-respected cemetery had an odd problem. They couldn’t keep a deceased banker within the confines of his tomb. Three times, it appeared that someone had broken into the vault and taken the poor man’s body. After official investigations, it was discovered that the vault was never broken into but broken OUT OF! The man had been buried alive at least twice. This was an occasional occupational risk of the time. Premature burial has since been reduced with the betterment of medical science. It still affects us to this day, however. Ever wonder WHY a body isn’t buried until several days AFTER death? That’s why. Superstition soon becomes accepted dogma. In any case, once the banker was returned to his grave for the third time, a vampire hunter performed a rather odd addition to the London's Highgate Cemetery - the scene of gentleman’s entombment: He added crushed garlic and a few rosaries to the the Victorian Vampire. cement used to seal the vampire up. Needless to say, London lost interest Credit: Panyd at en.wikipedia in its “Victorian Vampire.” Some claim that the event inspired Stoker. This author, however, holds to the realism that it was Jack the Ripper who had given birth to Count Dracula. Like gypsies, the vampire hunter kept a keen eye out for a village that either had suffered from a foreign war, or had a series of unexplainable deaths. Then, like a knight from the old stories, would ride in with his bag of tricks to save the day.

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  64 Some even went as far as to befriend a deformed or crippled sidekick who would share with the villagers “his” story about how gifted and kind his master was. If the sidekick failed at his task, at winning the hearts and minds of the village, the noble vampire hunter would torture him, beat him, and leave him to starve after both were run out of the city. Being the sidekick of a vampire hunter had its dangers. In the hills of Virginia, in the United States, about a decade before the Civil War, there was an unexpected plague of cholera. The citizens knew not the cause, nor really what the sickness was since there were no doctors within a hundred miles. A traveling vampire hunter convinced the city council that they were being victimized by creatures of the Vampire skeletons found in Virginia with undead. iron stakes in their hearts. What was their only salvation? Credit: AP It seems that a Catholic had recently perished and had been buried just outside of town. Since Catholics were treated as badly as Jewish people had been treated in Europe, the recently dead individual seemed a logical target. In the early colonial days, when a new Catholic settlement had been spotted, it was not considered “unchristian like” to nail the churches shut with the followers inside, and then light a match. Vampire hunters of old loved to use minority religions as a means to conjure up fears of the undead. So, this vampire hunter had the corpse dug up, its heart was removed and burnt to ashes, and all around the site were invited to eat a small teaspoon of the vampire’s ashes. This was so that the village could build up their immunity in case of a future attack. The vampire never again showed itself, so the trick worked. Years later, in the early 1970s, the graves were excavated by a local college and were found to be mutilated and the bones were scattered and torn apart. The vampire hunter, like his European counterparts, lived off these people’s fears for the remainder of the Civil War, and sometime after, until he fell victim to cholera himself. In modern-day Romania, it is not uncommon to discover a long wooden stake driven through the chest cavity of young people who die for no apparent reason, or suicide victims beheaded to keep them from rising from the grave in Satan’s service. Since the dawn of civilization there have always been mysterious creatures of the night. Monsters that lurk within the boundaries of both fact and fiction. Of them all, the vampire has retained the most staying power. In him, we see the vile sickness that lies within our own human psyche. Maybe the vampire hunter existed to help explain this part of mankind that religion and a good storyteller could not. Still, to those who did not know, but would later find out, most vampire hunters were worse than the creatures they had sworn themselves to destroy. They were champions of their day and used the tools that both God and mankind gave them. Now, we see them as B-rate heroes in B-rate movies—exactly where they should be! So, if you ever end up in a mysterious mountain village on the outskirts of the world, and there end up being a lot of mysterious deaths, think twice about hiring a tall and mysterious man who claims to be able to get rid of all your problems. Chances are he’s just a flim-flam man with a box of cheap tricks. “Cave! Immortuorum inquisitor!” Translation: “Beware! The Vampire Hunter!” Eh, roughly. ■

If you are interested in this author and would like to see more of his work, please go to: www.donaldallenkirch.com.

SuspenseMagazine.com 65 FROM SIX STRINGS TO SIX SHOOTERS—IT’S TIME TO ROCK A CROSSROADS THRILLER

“Eyre Price is rock fiction’s front man.” —Rick Robinson, bestselling author of Alligator Alley

THE RHYTHMIC ORIGINAL THE ROCKING FOLLOW-UP

—Amazon.com “Price handles a keyboard the way Keith Richards handles a black, three pick-up Gibson Les Paul Custom.” —Michael Sherer, author of Night Blind

“Eyre Price is rock fiction’s front man.” ——Rick Robinson, bestselling author of Alligator Alley

AVAILABLE NOW ON KINDLE AND AS TRADE PAPERBACK “The 9th Girl” is a Perfect An Interview with Tami Hoag 10

Interview By Suspense Magazine Press Photo Credit: Jan Cobb

Tami Hoag is a number-one New York Times bestselling author. According to her bio, she started writing at age nine and apparently hasn’t stopped—fortunately for us. She has been a New York Times bestselling author fifteen times now. Some of the titles include “Deeper Than the Dead,” “Secrets to the Grave,” and “Prior Bad Acts.” She has more than thirty-five million books in print and is published in over twenty languages worldwide. She started writing romance novels then eventually switched to thrillers. Tami was born in Iowa, but raised in Minnesota and left there in 1998 for warm rays. She currently lives in Palm Beach County, Florida, where she competes her horses in the prominent winter show circuit. We were able to catch up with Tami and ask her a few questions.

Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): “The 9th Girl” returns fans to the popular investigative team of Kovac and Liska. Did it feel like a homecoming to you? Did you always plan to return to this series?

Tami Hoag (T.H.): Absolutely. They’re

SuspenseMagazine.com 67 “ I’m very protective and secretive about my work when I begin a new project.” like dear old friends to me. I first met them in “Ashes to Ashes,” where they were only meant to be secondary characters. But I loved writing them so much that I’ve brought them back again and again. “The 9th Girl” is my fourth outing with them, and it won’t be the last.

S. MAG.: Can you now tell us something about “The 9th Girl” that new fans won’t find on the back cover?

T.H.: That Liska’s fifteen-year-old son, Kyle, has a prominent role in a storyline that tackles the topic of bullying.

S. MAG.: We know authors who have kept early rejections as a motivational tool even while they sit on bestseller lists. When you first started out, how many rejection letters did you receive—if you received any—and did any impact your writing in a positive or negative way?

T.H.: The first book I tried to publish was rejected a couple of times, but I got a letter back from one agent that told me he didn’t think that book would sell, but that he felt I was a good enough writer that I would eventually be published. Based on that, I quit my day job, wrote another book, and sold it to the first publisher I sent it to.

S. MAG.: Having begun your career as a romance author, how difficult was it for you to switch genres? With the rapid changes to the publishing environment, do you think it would be easier or more difficult to do in today’s climate?

T.H.: It wasn’t difficult at all for me in terms of the writing. Writing romance was always about exploring the psychology and dynamics of human relationships. I do the same thing in suspense; I just get to explore some much darker stuff. My publisher was back and forth as to whether or not I should make the switch when I wrote “Night Sins.” I was having a lot of success in romance. Nobody knew how I would be received as a suspense writer. But I never had any doubt about it. Suspense was what I wanted to do, and I was going to make that happen. Would it be more difficult today? I don’t know. It seems like everything in this business is harder in the current climate. Publishers seem to live in such a constant state of fear that they’ll be even less inclined to let a writer having success in one genre move to another. They want a sure thing.

S. MAG.: Which one of your fiction books was the most difficult to write and why?

T.H.: “The 9th Girl” was a long and difficult birth for a couple of reasons. First, my focus was interrupted when my publisher wanted me to also write an e-book short—“The 1st Victim.” Publishers think we can just knock these things out, like it’s just typing. That’s not how I work. I’m never going to compromise the quality of what I do, so it took two months out of my schedule. I felt it should be tied in to “The 9th Girl,” which also complicated my life tremendously. In the end, I was really happy with the outcome, but the process made my life a living hell there for a while. I barely left my house for months. Friends brought food by and left it at the front door. Also, this book has a cast of teenagers in it. They were predictably difficult to deal with!

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  68 S. MAG.: Is there a subject matter that you find too taboo to write about? THE 9TH GIRL By Tami Hoag T.H.: I know the minute I name something, I’ll get an idea for just that topic, but I don’t think I could ever stomach writing about child sex trafficking. That Outstanding! Tami Hoag continues to would push me over the edge. I couldn’t take it. set the standard for excellence in her genre. “The 9th Girl,” a return to the popular Kovac S. MAG.: Do you have any superstitions or idiosyncrasies when you write? and Liska team, circles two very powerful storylines—one, the incredibly painful issue T.H.: Well, they all seem perfectly normal to me, but I’m sure other people would of teenage bullying and the other a lunatic call them idiosyncrasies. I’m very protective and secretive about my work when with a penchant for publicity. I begin a new project. I won’t even tell my editor much about it. He just has Detective Sam Kovac and Sergeant Nikki to trust me. During the work, I have to have the television on, but sometimes Liska are not starting the year as planned. Sub-zero temperatures, dark of night, and a without the sound so I don’t get too distracted. I’ll play music and run the same zombie corpse are not what the duo intended five movies over and over and over without the sound. It’s like the actors are for their New Year’s Eve festivities, but frankly, old friends keeping me company. Then I’ll watch MMA fights at three in the neither did the victim. And this case is not a morning to unwind, as weird as that sounds. Suffice it to say, it’s a good thing run of the mill murder. Initially—though I’m single. it takes a small stretch of the imagination on the part of Liska—it appears to be the S. MAG.: What is the oddest, wildest, or most unusual request ever made of continuation of a string of gruesome holiday you by a fan? murders by the aptly dubbed ‘Doc Holiday’ killer—making the latest female victim T.H.: I recently had a guy propose to me on my Facebook page, pledging to be number 9. But is it really? submissive to me! Yikes! For the record, submissive men need not apply. Lacking leads, identifying the victim is priority number one, but it’s not going to S. MAG.: What is the single most important piece of advice ever given to you be a simple task because she’s been stabbed, and one that you would offer up to other aspiring writers? has fallen out of the trunk of a moving car, been run over by a party-Hummer, and T.H.: That if one in a million people is going to make it in this business, it might mutilated by acid, which sets the tone for this investigation. Nothing about this case is easy. as well be me (you). That was my attitude going in with that first book. I believe So the aging and technologically challenged in setting a goal and achieving it. If someone closes a door in my face, I’ll go in Kovac has to think outside of the box when the window. If I can’t get in the window, I’ll get in through the basement. There’s attempting to track down this particular no quit in me. I’ll pound a square peg into a round hole all day long until the monster—and he does so, only slightly bloody thing fits. You have to be tenacious and determined, and work your butt griping as he’s brought into the social media off. age. With a carefully planned media leak, a S. MAG.: What can you readers and fans expect from you next? Is there taskforce is assigned, but more questions than something special you’re working on? answers arise. For Liska, this investigation becomes a personal matter and the questions T.H.: Like I said, I won’t reveal much, but I’m just beginning a book I think is asked are issues parents face every day. Do you going to be really special. It’s about a young woman whose tragedy in the present really know what your children are doing? Do makes her look at her past and the people she has known her whole life through you really know who they’ve become or what a much darker lens. Things that seemed innocent and believable at the time now they deal with? What happens to socially look sinister and suspicious to her, and her life will be put in jeopardy because aloof teens on the fringe of society? Who of it. I won’t say anything more. Just telling you that much is making me break cares when something bad happens? out in a nervous sweat. A smartly written, one-day read, “The 9th Girl” offers an emotional connection to incredible characters, and the distinctive We would like to thank Tami for taking time to speak with to us, her style only found in a bestseller by Hoag. readers, and her fans. To find out more about Tami Hoag, please visit her Reviewed by Shannon Raab for Suspense website at http://www.tamihoag.com. ■ Magazine ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 69 THE MYSTERY OF WHAT TO READ THIS SUMMER... SOLVED.

Available on Kindle and as trade paperbacks “...a common superstition among the Mongol people is that if Genghis Khan’s tomb is ever found and opened, it will mark the end of the world. So, of course, I had to tell that story.” Join The Force With James Rollins Interview By Suspense Magazine Press Photo Credit: David Sylvian James Rollins is a regular guest within the pages of Suspense Magazine and any fan of his work can certainly understand why. Sometimes an author is just so talented that with one book released, or even two a year, it’s still not enough to quench our thirst for more. James’s work is a magical blend of historical secrets, science, and exotic locales. His newest release, “The Eye of God,” fits that mold. An avid traveler, James not only regularly meets his fans at conferences and bookstores, he’s developed a reputation of being accessible to his fans with a strong online presence in an era where the pressures of social media can be daunting to both new and established authors. An advocate for his peers, James was also active in breathing life into the distinguished International Thriller Writers group. Whether writing his Sigma series, his standalones, or teaming up with a peer, James always shocks us with his pace and intensity, all while walking the tightrope of giving his fans exactly what they want: a remarkable story with characters that are loved or loathed, and an intriguing mix of reality and pure imagination. We were lucky to get a few moments with James before he began his “Eye of God” tour, and we hope you’ll enjoy the insider look.

Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): Give us look inside your latest book “The Eye of God” that is not on the back cover?

James Rollins (J.R.): In all of my books, I love to blend truth and fiction. In this novel, a major plot element is a comet that sweeps past earth—but there’s something “strange” about this comet, something that sets the astronomical world on fire. I based this celestial event on a real comet that is due to pass by our planet this coming November. What’s intriguing about this comet is that it will be the brightest comet ever to light the night sky, so bright in fact that it will be visible during the daytime. And as comets have historically been harbingers of doom, I knew this spectacular November visitor needed its own mythology—and that became “The Eye of God.”

S. MAG.: With this being the ninth book in the Sigma Force series, what surprises have you learned along the way with the series?

J.R.: Every book surprises me. Sometimes it’s that character that walks onto stage—someone who I thought was going to be a bit player—but who becomes a significant element to the series. Some of the deaths have also caught me off guard. But I think

SuspenseMagazine.com 71 what surprised me most about the series is how much I’ve grown to consider these THE EYE OF GOD characters as real people. Between books, I find myself often wondering what they’re By James Rollins doing, what they’re having for dinner, what they’re doing on vacation. When Rollins writes, readers S. MAG.: What one piece of advice did you receive about writing that has stuck bite. This is a fact of life in the literary with you all these years? community. And this book is yet another ‘goodie’ from a creative mind that never J.R.: I have it written on a yellow Post-It note and stuck on the side of my computer lets readers down. monitor: Today I give myself permission to write crap. I received this mantra from The world is ending. And even though an early writing teacher, who warned that sometimes you need to get that editor out many have written about this fact, Rollins of your head and simply write, to shed any expectation of perfection and to simply never stoops to stereotypical plots. With get words onto paper. I think the road to writer’s block is paved with those nagging this, he provides the ultimate story. fears that everything you write must be gold. The reader is offered a prologue set in the summer of 452AD. The location is S. MAG.: What is the most difficult part of writing a series that has continued the kingdom of Attila, where the historical now for nine books? figure has just married his seventh wife. This new wife, with the help of a Cardinal, J.R.: The biggest challenge is to make each book fit into the series, yet be freestanding causes Attila to meet his maker—saving enough that new readers could hop aboard at any point and be fully up to speed. the people she knows he will kill in his It’s a juggling act to fill in that back story for new readers while not slowing down plans to take over Rome. When she the storyline. I think a majority of readers have read the Sigma series out of order. succeeds in her plan, however, she realizes And that’s okay. In fact, I’m happy to hear that. I want each book in the series to be that with her actions, a future tragedy has as open and inviting to new readers as much as it is rewarding for those who have been created. been following the series since the beginning. In present day, a research satellite crashes in Mongolia. This satellite is the S. MAG.: Which character in “The Eye of God” had a larger voice than you core of a project meant to study dark thought they would when you started? energy. Meanwhile, at the Vatican, a package arrives that includes a skull with J.R.: That would be Duncan Wren, a new member of Sigma whose role in the book Aramaic writing and a book bound in grew larger and larger. I crafted this character after attending a “body modification human skin. DNA evidence shows that fair” in San Francisco. I met some individuals who had implanted rice-sized slivers these items were once in the possession of rare-earth magnets in their fingertips. These magnets vibrate in the presence of of Genghis Khan, King of the Mongols in electrical fields and stimulate the nerve-endings in the fingertips, opening an entirely ancient times. new way of experiencing the world. I was fascinated by this and gave Duncan this The Commander of Sigma Force, new “sixth sense.” What he ends up doing with this new ability grew from a novelty Gray Pierce, and his cohorts are called in to a profound significance. Plus he was simply a great character to write. to discover the real truth behind the fall of the Roman Empire. Following clues that S. MAG.: Which sentence or scene in “The Eye of God” do you feel captures the date back to the beginning of Christianity, essence of the book? they must find a weapon that has been hidden for centuries; made to bring about J.R.: That’s a tough but intriguing question. It would perhaps be easier to pick a the end of the world. scene, but I’ll go for the challenge of a sentence—or perhaps a few sentences. In The Sigma Force books have been regards to plot, I would pick this line: incredible. Mr. Rollins describes ancient times and connects them with present day Vigor glanced out the window to the comet glowing in the night sky, bright so well that it’s a truly fascinating read that enough to shame the moon. With that portent of doom hanging there, a shiver will hold the attention of any mystery/ of certainty rang through him. “The date for the end of the world … it’s in four thriller fan. Carefully researched, the days.” characters both old and new literally come to life—offering an ending that is truly a But in regards to the book’s essence, I think these words from a man who is dying surprise. and is closer to the central theme of the novel. It is a message about the gift of life: Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Do not waste that gift, do not set it on a shelf for some future use; grab it with Two” published by Suspense Publishing, both hands and live it now, live it every day. an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  72 S. MAG.: What is your favorite word and least favorite word, and why?

J.R.: I love including one word in all of my books. It is the word “sluice.” I thought it was an ordinary enough word, until its frequent use was brought to my attention by fellow author and friend, Steve Berry. He hates that word. So now I make sure that word is in every book or short story I write—if only to irk him. As to a least favorite word, it’s probably the pantheon of curse words. Not that they don’t appear in my books, especially coming from the notoriously foulmouthed but lovable Kowalski. But I try to use such language sparingly as cursing can become an easy crutch to lean on versus using more effective language.

S. MAG.: Is there a mystery that you feel could actually be solved in our lifetime?

J.R.: A central treasure hunt in “The Eye of God” is the search for the lost tomb of Genghis Khan. This Mongol warlord had conquered most of the known world during his lifetime, and all the wealth of those conquered lands vanished into Mongolia, including the crowns of dozens of defeated kings. But presently—using modern tools like satellite scans and ground-penetrating radar—archaeologists are zeroing in on his tomb. Whenever it’s discovered, the treasures found there will likely alter much of what we know about history. But even more ominous, a common superstition among the Mongol people is that if Genghis Khan’s tomb is ever found and opened, it will mark the end of the world. So, of course, I had to tell that story.

S. MAG.: Are we any closer in seeing The Sigma Force on TV or made into a movie?

J.R.: Lots of interest and many film options have been bought, but nothing has been concretely green-lit. But I did get a chance to meet the famous Dino De Laurentiis, the producer of such classics as Three Days of the Condor and Dune. It was one of my greatest thrills to share a lunch at his home with his family. As an avid movie junkie and someone whose DVR is always full, I would love to see Sigma cast onto some screen in the future—big or small. But for now, it’s still a waiting game.

S. MAG.: What was your goal when you started writing?

J.R.: To simply walk into a bookstore and see my book on a shelf. I didn’t care if I was paid a dime. I just wanted to see the book on that shelf. Of course, don’t tell my publisher that.

We’d like to thank James for spending his time with us and we always look forward to what’s coming next. To learn more, please check out his website at www.jamesrollins.com. ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 73

Diving to Depth By Joe Becker Kal heaved his equipment bag upon the truck’s rusty tailgate and took a glance at the ashen sky. It was quarter past eight, the season of summer coming to an end in the foothills of the desolate western plains, tree insects claiming their final calls, crops wobbling on tired, ochre ground, sweat still sticking to grimy necks. “Maybe half-hour before we go down, Sepi.” “Alright then,” replied Sepi, readying his gear. Sepi was only a nickname, one given by Kal during one of his frequent barbecue cookouts. As the region’s only diving instructor, Kal felt all his students needed some kind of moniker, comfort in their relationship being the prime reason. Years as a diving instructor taught him this, especially when it comes to those destined for night-diving certification. After all, when you submerge yourself into complete liquid darkness, with nothing but the stark beam from an unearthly light cutting the path in front of you, partner congeniality is paramount not only to your safety, but your sanity. To Kal, the guy looked Italian, so “Sepi,” the first name that arose from his then-inebriated lips, was chosen. For the same reason Kal slung out nicknames—a sense of camaraderie, bonding, goodwill—he’d host the cookouts for his students. Good grub, too. The very thought of which was beginning to ping around Sepi’s echoing gut. “So, time’s the next feast, Kal?” Kal shook his head. “Shoot, ain’t no gas ‘round for cooking. Damned place. Haven’t seen propane for weeks. I’d have to run fifty miles just for a tank. Or charcoal. ‘Cause last time I checked, Meyer’s is clean the fuck out of both. But hell, whatcha gonna do? It’s a distribution thing they always say.” “Yeah? Plenty ‘o wheat around, though.” They both heard the sound—a thud followed by water crashing against itself—but neither thought so much of it at the time to interrupt their conversation. Sounds like these were common around the quarry, although more so when college kids were still around for summer. Rarely, however, was anyone near the quarry so close to twilight hours. “Guess we can burn that. Got a big ass harvester?” laughed Kal. Sepi looked into the quarry, to the deep-blue water darkening by the minute, to the wide hole in the earth where he would soon be certified for nighttime diving. It was his last in a series of underwater certifications, before he could get licensed as an undersea welder. Then he could move out, very far out, if one happened to look at working on oceanic oil platforms that way. Kal stared out along with him, then flopped himself upon the tailgate. He launched a spit to the dirt and furrowed his eyes. “Kids. Rock jumping at this hour,” came his complaint. “Stupid, man. They can get caught on something down there. You better be careful, too. Happened before, trust me.” “Dumbasses,” replied Sepi, as a way of seeking mentor approval. They slipped into their wet suits, attached their buoyancy vests, slung their weights and tanks over their shoulders, and headed along the quarry’s hardscrabble upper edge. Before long, Kal pointed down towards Monolith Rock, the local name given to the large abandoned slab that stuck out from the liquid like a shoreline glacier. It was their point of entry, and they turned into the narrow path that wound in its direction. The path was tight, shadowy at this hour, with only enough of the moon to distinguish the collection of debris to its side strewn over the years by restless teens. When they reached the rock’s edge, another thud resounded throughout the quarry, its sound waves lingering over the

SuspenseMagazine.com 75 rippling water. It came from their left, from the other side of a steep rock isthmus jutting out over the quarry. They eyed each other, shaking their heads. So be it, they seemed to say, kids will be kids. “Guess we’ll have company,” said Kal with resignation. They dropped down on their backsides like a pair of penguins, sliding along the slick smoothness of Monolith Rock, air tanks dragging behind them. When their feet found water, they adjusted their gear and came into their fins. Kal peered at his student one last time, questioning his bravery and intent. The kid was solid, he thought, unfazed, cool as ice. Seemed like the perfect candidate—the type of guy that didn’t let much get to him. Levelheaded. Stolid, in both his manner and demeanor. Yes, he reckoned, he picked the right guy. The right guy, indeed. When both were ready, they gave each other the thumbs up sign and donned their masks. They sucked in their mouthpieces, and without such as a wave, slid into the quarry. Deep onyx enveloped around them, disappearing their body parts inch-by-inch. In accordance with their dive plan, they descended slowly at first, progressing past tepid shallow waters and acclimating to the changing pressures and dropping temperatures. Ultimately, they reached the zones of depth that have never felt the warmth of the world. Kal motioned for Sepi to stop with a signal of his hand. They held their position level, and checked their gages under their bright flashlights. Fifty-plus feet. Kal threw out an O.K. signal and Sepi reciprocated in kind. They hovered there a moment, surveying the surroundings, adjusting to the blackness and to their beams of light that penetrated into it. As well to the shocking cold. Sepi could almost feel the trauma of the water through his wetsuit, and on top of that, he felt the ethereal openness of the space beginning to alter the connections of his brain. The water at this depth was almost incapacitating; his entire body felt like it was being subjected to a brain-freeze. A three-millimeter wetsuit? Maybe that was too conservative, he realized. He’d have to tough it out, but that was nothing new of a task for Sepi. Block out the pain, he said to himself, allow enough time for the body to heat up the suit. Stay relaxed, and keep breathing. Then rational thought would move in and counteract the benumbing shock of the deep quarry waters. If there was any consolation to Sepi’s burgeoning terror, it was in the luminosity of his flashlight. It spread wide and bright, capturing small particles floating through the water, bringing them into relief against the endlessness spread out before him. He gave his beam a sweeping arc across the void. It was a way to reassure himself that the black beyond was indeed capable of taking in his rays and wasn’t a realm of the complete unknown; that he wasn’t submerged within some underwater purgatory to which his final fate was waiting. He gave a downward tilt to his flashlight. The sobering light captured the jagged remains of rock left behind by excavation crews working many years ago, giving proof, more than anything, that he was in fact within a pocket of the earth, and not some other place. This reality became more evident as he illuminated the scattered debris— bottles, cans, sheaths of plastic—that clung to rock shards or were tucked into their crevices. True, if Sepi’s flashlight did provide a feeble sense of security to a liquid world shown as vaguely surreal and hallucinatory, it was still enough of a crutch to allow him to steal away from Kal—if only temporarily. He was an independent type, and the sense of aloneness often intrigued him, pulled him into vicinities that even he couldn’t foresee. It’s what his mother complained about on many occasions—”your carefree meandering”—and his grade school teachers were right on board with this assessment. He was always the last to enter the class from recess, preferring to wander the woods alone during these breaks, exploring and discovering the new and foreign. His affliction, if you could call it that, was a bad case of wanderlust. It was an unshakable condition, and naturally, this became his identifying persona, and one that would stay with him to this day. “You’re such a rogue,” he would often hear them say, “an aimless vagabond.” In turn, Sepi became (and was thought of as) a sober-minded fellow, earnest and introverted, who typically denied the fool-hearty their due and refused to take lightly the bullying ways of the world. Gradually, Sepi found himself favoring the direction of deeper and away, loosening with each graduated stroke the emotional bonds that attached him to his instructor. The emptiness around him drew him further into his beam of light, inescapably and inexorably, like a marble drawn into the nozzle of a vacuum. Up ahead, a large abandoned hunk of quarried stone stood on end like a wreck at sea that never correctly settled to the floor. It was a behemoth that resisted the journey earthward with the determination of its massive weight. Drawn by its shape and magnitude, Sepi headed in its direction. Kal noticed Sepi’s drift and gave casual pursuit, pausing briefly to assume the task of reading his instrumentation gages. Time, depth, compass, oxygen levels. All was going according to plan, he determined. Sepi figured the face of the off-kilter slab—gray, cold, and immovable—to be about seven feet across, nine high. He cornered its left; Kal its right; their beams splitting around it like divergent tracks of rail. Another sound penetrated downward, echoing against the face of the stone. Distinctive and telling—a heavy splash. Very heavy, coming from the left. Even at fifty feet below, they could tell as much. Sepi buoyed himself higher and headed in the direction of the splash. He couldn’t help himself, curiosity and impulsivity being a natural part of his constitution. Whoever the kid was, he needed to be seen, his body needed to be tinseled with a spectrum of light to verify his existence. Besides, there’d be nothing like shocking some punk kid braving his ability and temerity in the late summer hours of a darkened quarry. Nothing like assaulting his fragile nerves with a blast of light from

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  76 the inhabitable depths below. He cut off his light. Only Kal’s flashlight—which was veering off somewhere behind him—illuminated the liquid world around him. Sepi knew the eventual reveal had to come out of nowhere, so he swam further ahead and gave the dark a few seconds to grow, to expand into consciousness. As it did, he questioned himself, his juvenile motives and the crass notion of fright in general. But he knew there was no turning back—under the circumstances the idea was too compelling, too inescapable. He was already visualizing the outcome, claiming it as foreordained. Kal would understand. Hell, he’d probably even appreciate the execution of the terror. Sepi figured his depth was close to thirty feet, thirty-five at most. He swam further and higher, the water pulsing with bursts of warmth that he could feel against his face. He was edging closer to the region below the sound of the splash. Then he stopped. “Now!” he said to himself. He pushed the button on his flashlight. A movement, swift and fleeting. It came against the furthest reaches of his light. Was he mistaken? Was it still descending? Only the craziest of kids would be diving down this far. That’s it, he thought, I’ll give it to him good. He swam faster. Rising bubbles wavered in his light, giving him a jolt. He turned back around, and looked below. Twenty feet deeper was Kal’s beam heading in his direction. Sepi could see Kal’s light shining into the depths, and while gazing past his fluttering fins, he saw it: the mass assembled on the quarry floor, incongruous and out of context. With a head of light, he descended, closer and closer toward it. It wasn’t just one—if that was all, Sepi’s heart might not have skipped a beat—but a heap of them, their alabaster flesh peeling away in the current’s easy sway. Skulls atop torsos, legs and arms twisted perversely around like tangled wire, soft white flesh mixed with even whiter bone. The fresher ones were amassed atop figures of indeterminable decay. All were quieted by their conjoined company, all except the school of bottom-feeding fish milling about, nibbling from cranial cores and pecking at limbs that dangled with scraps of clothes. Hollowed skull holes, that once held eyes that held the world, stared blankly at him. From above, another thud. From behind, Kal’s light, adding depth-of-field to a field of death. Cinderblocks, everywhere cinderblocks, holding the beings to their grave, keeping the crush and pile forever entombed. A swiftly sinking human figure raced by, roped at the waist, fingers twitching in the water’s resistance. The bottom edge of Sepi’s light caught the eyeballs, saw them briefly locking into his own. Alive? Possibly. (Or tricks of a panicked eye). But what he saw—if for only a split second—was a human being beckoning for succor, grasping for one last moment of existence. He couldn’t give that to him, no, he could only give that to himself. In a frenzy, he headed to the surface, with Kal trailing directly behind. They surfaced at Monolith Rock, slamming atop it with the same haste as sea lions under pursuit. They threw their arms and chests against its slope, tanks bobbing behind them in the water. Sepi spat out his mouthpiece and threw his mask to the crown of his head. He gasped for air. His eyes froze into Kal’s, not so much for comfort, but for an explanation to what he had just witnessed. Kal pointed up over Sepi’s right shoulder, straight up over the rock wall that jutted out beside them. He could tell Sepi was in a state, foggy-eyed and panicked. But he knew they had to be quiet, that revealing themselves would be disastrous. They were in no position to be exposed. Gingerly, Kal held his index finger to his lips and portrayed an unmistakable calmness. Sepi took a deep breath, nodded, and laid his wobbly arms flat out against the rock. He rested there a few seconds, silent, shaken. Then Kal gave a gentle push against Sepi’s arm, motioning him to move along the rock, real slowly towards the edge. He wanted to get a direct look at whoever was up there and verify their presence without being seen. With their air tanks holding them buoyant, they eased along, hand over hand, until a clear line of sight was achieved. By the falling crescent moon, they could make out a truck’s tailgate laid open fifty feet above them. Despite the cliff’s edge obscuring their vision, they were able to make out two burly figures, chest high to head, standing on either side of the truck, their backs turned. The distant resonance of their voices seeped down into their ears, like the murmurings in a troubled dream. They both kept a keen eye to the cliff for a moment, trying to maintain a low and calm posture, but Sepi’s stomach had a hard time not retching for relief. A mouthful of mucus and water shot out. Quickly, Kal grabbed his arm, forcing him to tread back out of sight. “Get off your gear,” demanded Kal. “What?” “I said take it off. Quietly, up on the rock.” “Why?” Sepi asked in a faltering whisper. He was already shedding his vest and fins. “We need to get up there and we can’t have all this shit on us. Got it?” “The authorities. We need to call...the sheriff or someone.” “Hell that,” struck back Kal. “Ain’t no time for that. They’d be gone by then.” Kal’s voice began to rise, and he checked it down. Distant and desultory laughter could be heard, and they inched over to take a look up again, to make sure they weren’t discovered. In the pale light, they could make out one of the figures hoisting a cinderblock overhead with each arm, up and

SuspenseMagazine.com 77 down, over and over. They crawled back over and Kal continued. “And then we’d have to answer...fuck, answer to all those bodies down there.” “But…” “But what? You’re certified now,” whispered Kal as he jabbed his finger at Sepi. “Hell, yeah, you are. You want that job? Doing clean-up and removal? ‘Cause that’s what you’ll get. You’ll get just that, Maxwell.” Sepi paid no notice to the use of his real name. He could only hear the question, like a white-hot metal prod poking through his eardrum. Between his moments of revulsion, he was forced to ponder that which Kal asked. “No,” he replied. “Well then,” issued Kal, directing his attention above. “The bodies...who’ll get the bodies?” “No tellin’. But I know they’re not leaving nowhere.” A darkness overtook Kal’s eyes, a disposition brought on by the harrowing situation. “This shit ain’t right. You know it ain’t.” He grabbed Sepi’s arm, tight. “O.K., Sepi? O.K.? First things first. We take care of business.”

They shed their wetsuits and laid their gear atop Monolith Rock. Still dripping, they headed up the path. Kal led the way, but he stopped midway, figuring it was always best to hash out a plan beforehand, and better still while out of earshot. “Get a number off the truck if you can. And only if they’re headin’ out, that is. Otherwise, we overtake ‘em together, quick and quiet. From the rear, blades on the back.” He held up his scuba knife with conviction. “Take ‘em down to the ground, but we do this only when they’re occupied with...with their weight. Got it? Surprise ‘em, get ‘em down, hands behind the back, then tie ‘em down tight.” Sepi nodded along with each of Kal’s points, patting his pants to double-check that knife and rope were contained within. He was still disoriented, disarmed by what he was asked to do and how quickly he had to do it. His mind was floating in a weightless void, with death still an arm’s length away. Somehow, the information he was given was able to sift through all those interferences; it even slipped through the interference that manifested as a physical form—body and face—that came amid Kal’s sharply spoken words. It was as if the person himself was overlapping Kal’s own features, shaped slowly into existence like a ghost from an old cartoon. Sepi saw him leaning against the classroom door, waiting there as he often did to taunt him following his return from lunch break. He could even hear Bryce Taverns’s sinister voice. The extra weight Bryce Taverns carried could have been fat, but it also could have been muscle buried beneath fat. No one in high school, including Sepi, dared to test which one. His face was flattened and dominated by red boils. Whoever cut his hair—barber, father, mental health professional—cropped it close, giving him a deranged look. These were the features that stood out as Sepi stood there listening to Kal’s orchestrated plan. “What, were you out meeting your maiden, Maxwell? No? Guess it was your sissy-ass boyfriend then. Huh, Max-i-well?” Then he’d feel the slap to the back of his head. He felt it then. He wanted to punch Bryce Taverns square to his gut. Wanted to double him over, and more. But he didn’t; he was recoiled by a fear that locked his fists firmly to his side. And he had terminal regret over this. It was possible, however, that someone else didn’t, as one weekend night Bryce Taverns found himself headlong into the grill of a Mack truck with a fifth of whiskey gurgling in his stomach. The driver swore he saw two other people next to him before impact. Human or divine, Sepi figured justice was served. Next time, if there ever was one, he wouldn’t hesitate to take the offering. He’d take it raw on a cold plate. They reached the clearing and tucked away into the brush. The moon was crouched low, hidden amidst the trees’ foliage. The truck was parked ahead, its darkened headlights facing them like dead eyes of a demon. In the dimness, they couldn’t tell if the truck was grey or red (or was covered over in mud or rust). They couldn’t possibly tell its make—Dodge or Chevy or Ford—let alone pick out a license plate number. Nevertheless, one of them was able to make out the figures from the facial contours of their silhouettes. And their voices—deep and callous and irreverent—also helped give them away. “Hell, I know those fucks,” Kal said, cupping his hand to Sepi’s ear. “Guys from the crematory. Everyone outta gas ‘round here. Pitchin’ clients where nobody’d find ‘em, right down in the drink.”Sepi squinted his eyes and looked to the tailgate. He thought it was bare feet he saw hanging over its side, but he wasn’t sure in the dark. The guy who had been military-pressing cement blocks was leaning his stomach against the back of the truck, watching the other one, who, as far as they could discern, was busy twisting rope between block and flesh. A flashlight suddenly blasted to the ground. Kal and Sepi ducked lower. They could hear the voice of the guy working the rope: “Comb it around good. Don’t leave no evidence.” The light zigzagged around awhile, discovering nothing. “O.K.,” he said again, “grab your side, Billy.” Kal elbowed Sepi in the ribs, giving him a firm nod of his head. He peered into his eyes, hard and unmistakable. The time was now. Kal and Sepi inched towards the front of the truck, eyes focused on the backs of the guys. They stopped at the hood of the truck, each peering through the windshield at the sight of the two large men readying themselves for the dead weight laying on the tailgate. Sepi could see the figure: middle-aged man, semi-clothed, pale and listless. They watched as the guys positioned his body forward, then struggled to hoist the cement block atop his midsection, trying to achieve a proper

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  78 balance. When the man’s stomach went flaccid under the dense concrete form, the two men reached for their ends. Kal pointed to himself, then to the left side of the truck. He jabbed his finger at Sepi, then pointed right. His finger against his lips was followed by a circular motion in the air. “O.K., Billy. Heave on three...” They advanced. It was the stealth of wolves. Scuba knives substituting for teeth and claws. Thought process instead of carnal instinct. Revenge for raw need. “...and fuckin’ let go on time...” In seconds, Sepi’s knife came against his man’s back. The cloth and flesh was hard, but he knew there was tenderness to be found under metallic sharpness. He tightened his grip and pressed closer against it. He felt the man’s body twitch from shock. He looked at his hand and knife. The image was surreal, electric. He found himself saying something, something definitive and clear into the guy’s ear. He pulled him close with his other arm. Then he heard it: the garbled noise of a recently cut throat. Sepi glanced over to see Kal holding his guy’s hair, blood spilling from the neck. The man collapsed, and with him went the weight he held. Sepi’s man never let go of the dead man’s legs; the fall shifted the weight, a shift Sepi couldn’t foresee. He heard something guttural, an utterance of extermination. He looked down. He found his hand holding tight to the handle of the knife, with its remainder submerged well into cloth and warm flesh. It felt good. He plunged in further and twisted, no doubt reaching a vital organ that soaked his shirt with blood.

As Sepi sat in Kal’s pickup truck, staring at the truck’s headlights as they carved road out of the night, the enormous echo of crashing water still rang his ears. It was one of the last things he remembered. That and Kal calling out orders, hollow and translucent, like the moon breaching through the passing trees: to search the place clean—”not a fucking drop”—and to cram the cab with fresh death. The rolling tires, breaking limbs, the sight of it over the cliff. Then the sound. That’s really what he recalled amidst the density of fog that saturated his brain.

Kal grabbed the coffeepot off his counter and topped his mug off with a substance that poured like tar. On his kitchen table, the local morning edition was splayed out in front of him. Nothing out of the ordinary: a ribbon-cutting ceremony, a feel-good 4-H story, a brief on wheat futures. Typical stuff in a small rural town dotting the western plains. No mention anywhere of a local business missing its operators. It was three days since, and Kal hadn’t heard word one from Sepi. He dropped him and his equipment off that evening, with a wordless understanding and a feeble handshake. Not hearing from him was fine by Kal, just fine. He wasn’t expecting as much either, but one never knows. All seemed well that morning as Kal dumped spoon after spoon of sugar in his cup. The phone rang. He spilled his coffee, obliterating instantly a picture of a local high school football player. He picked up the phone, but didn’t answer. “Kal?” the voice said. “Yes?” “Sheriff Woodbine here.” Kal hesitated then set his coffee cup upright. “Sheriff. How are you,” he said calmly. There was moment of silence, then the sheriff spoke, “Line’s secure on this end. You?” “Completely.” “They put up a fight?” “Didn’t have a chance. Went down like lambs in a slaughterhouse.” “Good. Clean it good? Please tell me you did,” said the sheriff anxiously. “Left it bare. Quiet and clean. No kids around either, made sure of that. Haven’t heard much in town, which is good,” remarked Kal. “Don’t worry ‘bout that. I’ll cover those variables when they come up, and they will. Remember, those boys were hunters and there’s a lot o’ country out there. How ‘bout our boy?” “Well, you don’t worry ‘bout that one. Told you, I picked the right guy,” Kal said with proud assurance. “Good, good. You know it was time they had to go. Those guys had shit-for-brains and hell, they just couldn’t be trusted. Made the wrong choice with what they were doing, anyway. I told ‘em that, but they don’t listen, never did and never would.” “And never will,” remarked Kal with a bent laugh. The sheriff went quiet, and it occurred to Kal there was more the sheriff needed to know. It was the main reason for the call, the most important aspect of their conversation. The sheriff spoke. “So, you see our guy down there?” Kal poured some more coffee and drew a long sip. “Nope, he wasn’t below. Found him still up with the guys in the truck. And that’s where he’ll stay, in the truck, keeping the dumb fucks company. Sixty feet below, along with the rest of ‘em.” ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 79 Subscribe Today! Benefits to Subscribing • Reviews and ratings of new releases • Discover new authors • Short stories • Author interviews including many of your favorites • Much, Much More! Available at: Amazon Barnes & Noble or Subscribe to the Electronic version at www.SuspenseMagazine.com Rates (Electronic): 1 Year: $24.00/ 2 Years: $48.00

“Suspense Magazine nicely fills a long-vacant niche for readers of this popular genre. If you like a good old-fashioned who- dunit, grab a copy and get the latest scoop on all your favorite authors, current books, and upcoming projects.” ~Wendy Corsi Staub, New York Times Bestselling Author “Suspense Magazine is chock full of stunning artwork, intriguing fiction, and interviews It's a winner!” ~Tess Gerritsen, International Bestselling Author

Suspense Magazine July 2013 / Vol. 049  80