Suspense, Mystery, Horror and Thriller Fiction

JUNE 2013

Inside Summer Thrills with Jeffrey Archer Alafair Burke Chevy Stevens Hank Steinberg & Dean James

Meet Newcomer John Mulhall

Get a Sneak Peek of Rules of Fiction with “The Doll” by Michael connelly Taylor Stevens by Anthony J. Franze

C r e di t s From the Editor John Raab President & Chairman

Shannon Raab Creative Director Can authors go too far with their plots? Romaine Reeves I ask this question to many authors: Is there CFO a subject you simply won’t write about? Most of Starr Gardinier Reina the time the answer is anything having to do with Executive Editor the death of a child—it’s simply too dark a place Jim Thomsen for them to venture into. There are other subjects Copy Editor that authors graphically put in their books, since the genre simply calls for it; however, going too Contributors dark for them is going too far. Emotions from the Donald Allen Kirch Mark P. Sadler author to the reader are an essential part of connection between the two, but not in a Susan Santangelo way that leaves the reader feeling uncomfortable. DJ Weaver CK Webb I’ve read the backs of many books that I thought contained subject matter that Kiki Howell Kaye George was just a little over the top. And I wondered, what if the author changed things up a Weldon Burge little? Couldn’t they still have a great story? The competition to find readers is a difficult Ashley Wintters Scott Pearson challenge for any author today, because of the electronic age and e-books, in which D.P. Lyle M.D. anybody can write a book and post it on Amazon or Barnes & Noble. Claudia Mosley Christopher Nadeau I don’t know if this is forcing some authors to break through their barriers and Kathleen Heady Stephen Brayton write about controversial subjects simply to get some attention, even if it is negative. Brian Blocker Plot lines in thriller books have been written about thousands of times over, and authors Andrew MacRae Val Conrad today have to try and find new ground in order to stay fresh, but it sometimes comes at Laura Alden the expense of their own morals. Melissa Dalton Elliott Capon I find it sad that this is something they have to do, but with society becoming more J.M. LeDuc Holly Price and more immune to today’s violent behavior, what can they do? Kari Wainwright David Ingram In my opinion, simply going back to the basics and bringing back some old-school Bill Craig style of detective work would be refreshing. I’m getting a little tired of all the technology Jodi Hanson in books, in which the detective is getting lazy and the only way to make the book fast- Amy Lignor Susan May paced is to put more dark themes at the J.S. McCormick center of the work. Kestrel T. Andersen Cassandra McNeil As a reader, you have to decide Jenny Hilborne Tanya Contois if dark is too dark. Is the next book Sharon Salonen you pick up going to hit you in a way Anthony J. Franze Jeanine Elizalde that makes you a little queasy in the Kristin Centorcelli stomach? The real world is violent and Jerry Zavada Ray Palen insane enough, so do we really need to S.L. Menear have it taken up to a level beyond reality? Drake Morgan Or can’t we still enjoy a good book that Customer Service and doesn’t take us out of the real life? Subscriptions: For 24/7 service, please use our website, www.suspensemagazine.com or write to: SUSPENSE MAGAZINE at John Raab 26500 Agoura Road, #102-474 CEO/Publisher Calabasas, CA 91302 Suspense Magazine does not share our Suspense Magazine ■ magazine subscriber list to third-party 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 June 2013 / Vol. 048

Cries in the Dark By Gillian Scott...... 3

Lisa Gardner on Conquering the Dreaded Synopsis: Part Five...... 5

From Their Pen . . to the Silver Screen By CK Webb ...... 8

An Old-Fashioned Southern Gentleman: Dean James Interview. . . . . 11

Lucky By R .S . Morgan ...... 15

Rules of Fiction with Michael Connelly By Anthony J . Franze ...... 20

Whistle by the Graveyard By Laura Kathryn Rogers...... 23

Horror's New Voice: John Mulhall Interview ...... 26

Inside the Pages: Suspense Magazine Book Reviews...... 30

Suspense Magazine Movie Reviews...... 41

Featured Artist: Sara Helwe...... 43

The Methuselah Root By Doward Stevens...... 51

Interview with a Monster: The Phantom FileBy Thomas Scopel...... 58

Stranger Than Fiction: George WashingtonBy Donald Allen Kirch...... 65

Excerpt of “The Doll” By Taylor Stevens...... 69

A Kidnapping By Hannah Friend ...... 75 Cries in the Dark By Gillian Scott The quiet of the forest was broken only by the sound of Heaven knew I tried to forget, to escape the abominable splattering rain drops that showered down like the tears of atrocity of that night, but I appeared stuck in a time warp, a an unloved child. A mist shrouded the lake obscuring the past filled with insurmountable pain and paralyzing terror. house from view, but I knew exactly where it was, the stone I was living in a Pandora’s Box of memories that simply masonry house that had once boasted a splendid facade and refused to die. played host to an equal number of splendid gatherings. I The soothing silence of the night was disturbed by the could hear the squawking of the water birds as they made utterances of a night owl and listening to its eerie hooting, their way across a showcase of flowering water lilies. It was I was strangely comforted by its presence. It was much later a scene of matchless loveliness, surreal in its unique charm. in the black of night that the intruder entered the house, a The house now bereft of any former grandeur still managed bulwark to a hideously shameful crime. The police assumed to give an impression of aloofness, it stood tall and proud, an it the random act of a psychopath (which of course it was), icon against a backdrop of forestland beauty. Its dilapidated but I knew the offenders identity and yet could tell no one. state was far removed from the illustrious home of my The assailant was on a spree of violence, a rampage fueled by childhood and the unparalleled splendor of the gardens, that an adrenaline rush that could not, or would not be dismissed. had been my mother’s pride and of which she boasted to no His actions were not the result of some misguided retribution, end. They now appeared a blanketed array of meandering but borne out of a purely involuntarily biological need. His pathways and broken down fences; a sad reminder of a body required it, indeed demanded it like an addict needed previous life. a fix. The fact that he was able to achieve sexual gratification The rains had been fitful all morning, but the clouds from these sordid acts of violence was just an added bonus. having been eventually cleared, revealed flake-like rays of No one heard him enter and no one saw him leave. sunlight, which filtered down through tall, majestic trees However, I had sensed the footsteps on the stairs long before and allowed me to glimpse the home of my past. Its run- I heard them, the thump of a footfall on creaking wood down condition did not detract from my remembrance of followed by a heavy dragging sound. I listened for awhile for its former beauty, and I was momentarily overwhelmed by any further noise, but none came and so I snuggled beneath the profusion of memories that came flooding back. The the sheets burying my face beneath the myriad of pillows. chirpings of a cardinal perched high in a tree briefly diverted Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, I recall me from my musings, and I watched enrapt as the dappled watching shadows of frightening, faceless figures dance sunlight bathed its feathered coat in colorful glory. It was across the ceiling. However, eventually the beckoning world a captivating moment, another exhibit of Mother Nature’s of castles and kings and knights in shining armor was too simple and uncomplicated beauty. The bird eventually flew hard to resist, and I was transported to a land where every away and I was drawn back towards the house, wondering if adventure left you breathless for more. the memories would indeed ever let go of me or I of them. The footsteps I had heard, or at least thought I had heard

SuspenseMagazine.com 3 of earlier did not come again, and anyway by now, sleep had already claimed me. It was sometime later that I was awakened by an echoing scream that seemed to rock the very rafters of the house. The cries in the dark came again and again and I lay awake whimpering under the hooded cloak of night. The fuzzy hair on the nape of my neck and young, girlish arms stood to attention, my body betrayed by a paralyzing fear that induced uncontrollable shivers, but still I did not utter a sound. I felt the warm, wet liquid trickle between my legs and gasped in shame at the realization that I had urinated in my bed. Then I saw it! Eyes of coal set in a face of insufferable scorn that stared back at me from across the room, his unflinching gaze of loathing holding me mesmerized. He didn’t move; he didn’t speak. He just stood there completely still and expressionless. Even for one so innocent, I knew without doubt that I was in the presence of evil. I could see him quite clearly now as he stood in the doorway, the moonlight casting an eerie glow about him. My eyes were drawn to the large, heavy blade he held in his hand. It gleamed bright and shiny, except for the dark, reddish black liquid that trickled down the edge and dripped to the floor. His face appeared a contorted caricature, and for some unknown reason I remember thinking that he somehow looked familiar. As he advanced further into the room, I gasped for I did indeed recognize him. I knew who he was! The crescendo of a blood curdling scream rebounded into the night, and I remember wondering where it had come from until I realized it had come from me. He swung the blade with vindictive malevolence once, twice, three times, striking me again and again in a frenzy of blows. I was helpless to stop him, deprived of both strength and power. The blade sliced my arms, legs, and torso, the blood splattering both walls and ceiling. I recall crying out before hearing the sound of demonic laughter as the final blow severed my head, it was my last temporal memory. I wander the grounds now a haunting wraith; a child lost forever in a world in which she no longer belongs. I am but a character to be found amongst the pages of a macabre manuscript awaiting its journey’s end. My dreams of castles and kings have long since ceased, replaced by a continuous nightmare of blood, mayhem, and murder. As night descends, so does my mist of tears for I hear the haunting cries ring out, and I know that they are mine. I search for solace and I know it must be found, for if not, I am destined to remain but an apparition, a disembodied spirit that wanders the earth for all eternity. ■

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 4 Conquering the Dreaded Synopsis: A Series of Ten Lectures By Lisa Gardner Press Photo Credit: Philbrick Photography Lecture Five: Creating a Strong Hook

In Lecture Four, we covered the purpose of a short synopsis and examined two great examples. For Lectures Five and Six, we’re going to look at the short synopsis in more detail, starting with the opening (Lecture Five) and then the main body (Lecture Six). In Lecture Seven, we’ll conclude our examination of the short synopsis by considering two possible outlines—one geared for character-focused synopses and one for plot-oriented works. For the record, there is an infinite number of ways to structure a synopsis; you simply need to find the structure that works best for you.

Regardless of which outline you choose, however, you will always have two key components in your short synopsis. You will start with a HOOK. Then you will summarize your story’s PLOT POINTS. For today’s lecture, we’re going to focus on part A, the opening hook. A good synopsis, just like a good novel, needs to open with a bang. The Hook

The hook can be from one sentence up to three paragraphs long. The goal is to grab the editor’s attention and establish your writing voice in one fell swoop.

In Moni Draper’s “Vested Interests,” the hook is the first two sentences—a nice dramatic opening that immediately hints of danger. Peggy Hendricks also utilizes a dramatic opening in her synopsis for “Illusions of Innocence.” The hero’s wife has vanished, he’s the prime suspect in a murder, and the only woman who can help him hates his guts. Now, that’s a guy having a bad day.

SuspenseMagazine.com 5 Note how Peggy injects a hint of dry humor in her opening through her references to the town. Her opening is riveting, but the tone is also different than Moni Draper’s. Both are writing about murder, but both are already establishing their unique voice. Establishing voice, as you will remember from past lectures, is a hallmark of a great synopsis. The opening hook is your first opening to show your unique writing style.

To come up with the best hook for your synopsis, you’ll want to refer to your market homework that analyzes the most sellable components of your novel. Then you’ll want to consider how to craft a brief, but engaging introduction. Given the limited length of the short synopsis, you have only two or three paragraphs for your hook, so be clever. Think about injecting your writing with drama, energy, or humor, whichever is most appropriate. And get to the heart of the conflict of your novel—fast!

The best hook is a strong opening punch to command editorial interest. There are several techniques you can try.

1. Evocative opening line, e.g., “Sara Smith knew she was in trouble when she went for her gun...and it was no longer in the cookie jar.”

2. Humor, e.g., “Barbara finally had the perfect boyfriend. He was handsome, wealthy, and even punctual. The only problem was that he didn’t actually exist.”

3. Drama, e.g., “After that night, Sandy Kincaid stopped looking back. She kept her eyes forward and her life focused ahead. Bigger, better, stronger, that’s what she told herself. Because anything was better than slowing down and feeling the past creep up on her. Anything was better than remembering that night, and what he had looked like dead.”

4. Dialogue, e.g., “Hey, you the one who wanted the mail order bride? Just sign right here.”

The possibilities for opening your synopsis, of course, are endless. Remember this is art, not an English paper. Fragments are acceptable. So are colloquialisms. You can start out in deep POV, as if you’re inside the character’s head. You can also experiment with third person omniscient, creating drama as a narrator coldly describes the scene. The important thing is to grab attention and establish a voice consistent with what the editor will find in the completed novel.

Here are two examples of excellent setups. Notice how well the writers establish voice while simultaneously providing the relevant information about character and conflict. After these paragraphs, the writers can transition to a concise summary of the major plot points, content that they have grabbed the editor’s attention and revealed their writing strengths.

Example 1: “Romance Brings Death” by Jennifer Apodaca

“Romance Brings Death” is reprinted here with the permission of Jennifer Apodaca, a member of Orange County RWA. Jennifer has completed five manuscripts, and her experience shows through in this great example of using zany humor and lively writing to energize the beginning of her synopsis and grab a busy editor’s attention.

“Romance Brings Death”

SAMANTHA SCHOLL is trying to rebuild her life after her condom-selling, panty-stealing, waste of skin husband dies eating peanut candy. Leaving her soccer mom days behind, Sam buys the Heart Mates Dating Service. All she needs now is a few clients.

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 6 A stun-gun wielding client demanding a half million dollars is not what she had in mind. The permanent marker message he left on her favorite Nordstrom’s skirt makes her situation frighteningly clear—Sam has five days to find the money, or she and her kids will end up as dead as her husband.

TRENT SCHOLL has been doing more than selling condoms. Prior to his death, he had an account with Heart Mates. It appears that he was running drugs sealed up in the condom packages and skimming money from the profits. Sam has no idea where the money is.

Help comes in the form of handsome, charming Detective MORGAN ROSSI and bad-boy sexy Private Investigator GABE PULUZZI. Rossi focuses on the missing money and why Sam would buy Heart Makes without so much as a CPA looking at the books. Gabe is teaching Sam to take care of herself and her boys. Both men are tempting her libido out of retirement. Example 2: “Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch” by Debby Conrad

“Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch,” is reprinted here with the permission of Debby Conrad, a 1998 Golden Heart Finalist. Debby has a naturally dramatic voice, which she skillfully demonstrates in these brief three paragraphs. Note the use of sentence fragments and a great, cliffhanger ending to build interest. This kind of bold setup is a great way to reveal voice before going into the “nuts and bolts” outline of the short synopsis.

“Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch”

Luke Galloway doesn’t lie. Well, not normally. And never about something as serious as death. But, somehow Luke’s friend and business partner, Sam Paris, convinces Luke that he needs to do just that.

Sam hasn’t seen his daughter, Rusty, for twenty-one years, and he’ll do anything to get her to come back to his horse farm. Forget the fact that she’s lived all over the world, and in more exotic places than Red Ridge, Kentucky. The way Sam figures it, the only way he’ll ever get Rusty to come home and give up her high society lifestyle, is if Sam were dying.

And so the lie begins. Conclusion

The first three paragraphs of your short—or long—synopsis are among the three most important paragraphs you will ever write. This is your opportunity to present both the marketing hook in your novel, and also to show off your writing schedule. By starting strong, you encourage an editor to take your proposal seriously—and to keep reading.

If you have been writing synopses you feel are flat or lack interest, revisit your opening three paragraphs. Next up—plot points! ■

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 7 By CK Webb This month we find ourselves at number seven 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. Are the actors in the movie 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.

#7 Stand by Me

Stand By Me was adapted from Stephen King’s novella, “The Body,” which was published in the 1982 short story collection, “Different Seasons.” Of all the changes that were made from the book to the screenplay, the ones made to the boys lives and how their lives end, the setting of the novella from Castle Rock, Maine to Castle Rock, Oregon and the change in dates are the only major changes that viewers will recognize. One caveat: Though the boys’ lives end very differently and tragically, I DID NOT feel that this was conducive to the movie and the direction the movie went in and believe that the film version was better because of the omission, therefore it gets a pass. Stand by Me was directed by Rob Reiner and released in theatres in 1986. It stars Richard Dreyfus, River Phoenix, Will Wheaton, Corey Feldman, Kiefer Sutherland, and Jerry O’Connell. Credit: Columbia Pictures

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 8 Stand By Me follows four friends on a weekend journey to locate and take credit for the discovery of a dead body; a local boy named Ray Brower. The film is shot in narrative form and is told by Gordie Lachance, a now grown and successful writer. After reading a heartbreaking newspaper article about the death of his friend, Chris, Gordie flashes back and tells the tale of the four boys’ childhood journey to find the body of a missing boy near Castle Rock, Oregon, over Labor Day weekend in 1959. Gordie is a quiet, reserved boy with a knack for storytelling. Gordie finds himself with only four people in the world who understand him after the death of his older brother alienates Gordie’s father, who secretly longs for his favorite son to take the place of the living one. In the book, as well as in the film, Gordie’s best friends are Chris Chambers (played by Phoenix), Teddy Duchamp (played by Feldman), and Vern Tessio (played by Jerry O’Connell). Chris is a boy with a family name he would rather forget in a town that never will let him. Teddy bears the scars of a mentally ill father who held his head down on a hot stove and changed Teddy’s life forever. Vern is overweight, a bit shy, and always picked on by others. Except for his best friends, that is. The movie begins with Vern digging under the front porch in search for his lost jar of pennies, when he overhears his older brother talking about a dead body they found when they were stealing a car. As Vern listens in, he begins to conjure up a brilliant plan: find the body, become local heroes. Chris, Teddy, Gordie, and Vern decide to make the journey together. Of course, the journey itself is what the film is really about and it tackles some very tough issues in that regard. There is the first part of the journey which includes a local tale about a junkyard dog, that’s owner’s notorious command, ‘Chopper. Sic. Balls’ is the stuff of legends and nightmares! When the boys are forced to venture through the private property where Chopper is said to live, things go from good to bad pretty quickly. The next leg of their journey finds them racing for their lives along a railroad trestle with a speeding locomotive hot on their heels. After Vernie and Gordie are almost flattened by the train, they are forced to confront their own mortality again when one of the boys tries to kill himself. Nighttime in the story gives way to tall tales told by Gordie and a deeper closeness of all the boys. The adventures continue and include a nasty little run-in with some leeches and some revelations about the friendships and the boys’ plans for adulthood. Once the boys locate the body; they are pitted against a group of local thugs run by Ace Merrill (played by Sutherland). The bigger boys show up to take the body AND take credit for the discovery...something Gordie simply cannot and does not let happen. He pulls a gun on the older kids and for a moment, you hold your breath. What will happen? In the end, it would be Gordie who would ultimately decide that no one should get any credit for finding the body; after all, he was a kid just like them. After making an anonymous phone call revealing the location of the body, the boys make their way back to Castle Rock, where they say their goodbyes and go their separate ways. As the narrator continues the tale, we learn of Teddy’s hard life and prison stint; we learn about Vern and his wife and four kids; we learn about Chris, how he turned it all around, left Castle Rock and became a lawyer; and of course, we learn of Gordie’s life and how he turned stories into books and became a successful writer. Gordon describes the next year by telling the story of how Teddy and Vern kind of drifted away after befriending some younger boys. In high school, Gordie begins taking college-preparation courses and eventually, so does Chris. In spite of abuse from his father and distrust from his community, Chris manages to be successful with a little help from Gordie. Throughout Stand By Me, there were a ton of little funnies, anecdotes and quotes—all pulled straight from the novella itself. It was these little glimpses into King’s writing of the story that definitely made it stand out for me. My favorite quote is the last one and the perfect ending to one of my very favorite book-to-film adaptations… “I never had any friends like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?”

Remember… Someone, somewhere is ALWAYS getting away with murder! ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 9

“ If you like it, do it, but don’t do it if you’re just trying to be trendy. “ An Old-Fashioned Southern Gentleman An Interview with Dean James By Holly Price for Suspense Magazine Photo Credit: Provided by Author I recently had the pleasure of attending Carolyn Haines’s Daddy’s Girl Weekend in Mobile, Alabama, and was able to meet and interview Dean James, the prolific Southern writer. I had not met Dean before, but had heard about him from Carolyn, and I thoroughly enjoy his Cat in the Stacks mysteries. I found Dean to be charming, witty, and laugh-out-loud funny. He talked to me about his Southern upbringing and I had to ask more than once if we were siblings, separated at birth, because his life paralleled mine with his love of books, reading, and music. Dean was born an only child in Calhoun City, Mississippi, and was, he says, spoiled rotten. He was close to his parents, and grew up loving books and history. Dean received his Ph.D. in Medieval History from Rice University, as well as a Master’s in Library Science from the University of North Texas. He met a number of authors, including Carolyn, while managing Murder by the Book bookstore in Houston, Texas. He went on to serve as the Associate Director, Collection Development, of the Texas Medical Center Library. Dean graciously gave me a couple of hours of his time at the conference, and I was able to ask him questions about his background, and his work.

Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): Tell us about your formative years. Where did you grow up and were you always a writer?

Dean James (D.J.): I grew up on a farm in Grenada County, Mississippi. I was an only child and very close to my parents. My parents read to me often when I was little. I read at an early age, and loved Little Golden Books. I’d been through them so many times that I’d offer to read them to others.

When I was eight, I got my first library card. There was a series of biographies of famous people written for children, and my first book was on Abe Lincoln. After I read the biographies I was interested in, I then went through mythology. At ten, I discovered Nancy Drew. I loved the Nancy Drew books! It was about that time that I figured out that people wrote books as a career, and I wrote my first mystery at twelve or thirteen. I decided that it was a great way to make a living. Another series that I loved was

SuspenseMagazine.com 11 Trixie Belden. So, my first mystery was about two girls solving a mystery which involved missing Confederate gold. I sent it in and got a rejection letter, which was daunting, but not unexpected.

I read historical novels and romantic suspense. I enjoyed Mary Stewart and Victoria Holt. I paid attention to the way the stories were crafted and it helped me learn how to write myself. In high school, I wrote a story in a creative writing class that won a prize. That was encouraging.

In grad school at Rice, the urge to write surfaced again. I wrote my first adult novel in 1985 and it was eventually published in 2005 after numerous revisions. However, I was published in nonfiction first and “By a Woman’s Hand” was the name of the book. It was published in 1994 by Berkeley. At that time I was un-agented, but from that manuscript I got my first agent, who is still my agent, Nancy Yost. Eventually, I DID get a contract for fiction.

S. MAG.: When you first conceived of theCat In the Stacks books, where did the idea come from? How did you come up with the names for your characters?

D.J.: I had decided that I wanted to write mysteries, mostly about the South, since that’s what I know best.

My editor told me I needed a character that stood out. So, I thought, nobody’s ever written a cozy vampire book. The first two lines came to me and I went on from there. I sold that series to Kensington. There were four of that series: “Posted to Death,” “Faked to Death,” “Baked to Death,” and “Decorated to Death.” My protagonist, Simon Kirby-Jones, is a gay vampire who lives in England in a small village, Snupperton Mumsley. His condition is controlled by medication and he throws himself into village life. All is well until the local postmistress is murdered and Simon determines to solve the riddle of whodunit. Books two, three, and four continue Simon’s story.

The publisher dropped the series after four books, so I developed the trailer park series. I wrote that series under the name Jimmie Ruth Evans. I created my nom de plume from family names. Those books were titled: “Flamingo Fatale,” “Murder Over Easy,” “Best Served Cold,” “Bring Your Own Poison,” and “Leftover Dead.” The series’ protagonist, Wanda Nell Culpepper, lives in a trailer park, works days as a waitress at a restaurant called the Kountry Kitchen, and works nights at Budget Mart. She also solves murders in her spare time.

The Wanda Nell series ran for five books. The next series was about ladies who played bridge. Honor Hartman was the pseudonym I used. There were two books there, “On the Slam,” and “The Unkindest Cut.” Emma Diamond is the one solving the mysteries in this series. She is a recent widow and a novice bridge player.

There were also several standalone Southern mysteries.

After the bridge club series, I was asked to write a series by my publisher which involves a cat and a protagonist. I had met the inimitable Barbara Mertz, a.k.a., Elizabeth Peters, in the meantime, at Malice Domestic and had visited her at her home. She had a Maine Coon cat and I knew that I wanted the cat in the series to be named for hers, so I named him Diesel. So, Charlie Harris, and his rescued cat, Diesel, were born. I am still writing that series at present and the titles included in this series are: “Murder Past Due,” “Classified as Murder,” “File M for Murder,” and “Out of Circulation.” I write them under the pseudonym Miranda James.

S. MAG.: How do you select your book titles?

D.J.: In the past I came up with something that had something to do with the plot. Sometimes though, the marketing folks will come up with titles that they feel are more marketable. Like with the Cat in the Stacks books, the publisher wanted to emphasize the library angle rather than the cat angle. My latest book title is “The Silence of the Library.” It will be out in late January 2014.

S. MAG.: What do you think about introducing a supernatural element into books? It seems to be fairly common these days. Do you like that angle or not?

D.J.: I love mysteries with paranormal elements. Sookie Stackhouse books come to mind. I am friends with Charlaine Harris and

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 12 I enjoy her books. If you like it, do it, but don’t do it if you’re just trying to be trendy.

S. MAG.: What do you enjoy most about being an author?

D.J.: I love coming to various events and meeting interesting people. Meeting people is always fun, and I enjoy making new friends.

S. MAG.: Tell us about your creative process. Do your plots come to you fully formed? Do you work from an outline?

D.J.: I basically fly by the seat of my pants. I have an idea of the plot and I work from there with ancillary characters. Then I think about how these people will interact and who will be the victim and who will be the killer. I sometimes find that the killer changes as I write and it surprises me. Some people outline and it works for them, but I usually don’t. My subconscious works behind the scenes and completes the book for me. One of my most convoluted plots I wrote in six weeks. The hardest part is the first sixty or seventy pages. The average time is usually three to four months from conception to completion. I have a wonderful critique group I work with that I found through a friend, and I enjoy that and get their feedback. I like when they find flaws in logic or bad wording. Eighty-five percent of what they tell me is very useful, but I do write the story I want to write.

S. MAG.: What’s it like working with an editor? How do they change your manuscript? Aren’t their comments just one person’s opinion?

D.J.: I agree that when you get feedback from an editor it’s just one person’s opinion, but you have to recognize that they know the business and offer suggestions that are informed. I do listen to them. I have a wonderful editor who keeps me on track and lets me know when I’m not on target with the story. You should pay attention to what feedback you get from others. Beta readers may not get what you’re saying. You may need to rewrite a section for better clarity. You have to be willing to grow and learn and improve your work. The hardest thing for me to learn was to rewrite. I get to a point in every book where I feel like my work is crap, but that’s what an editor is for. Critique groups can also be helpful for that type of thing, too.

S. MAG.: Are all your books in print and are all your books on Kindle or Nook?

D.J.: No, but some of them are. The Cat in the Stacks books are, and I’m working on getting the others on e-book format. At some point, I’d like to go back to my earlier series and add to them.

S. MAG.: How many hours a day do you write? Do you write every day, or do you take time off?

D.J.: I have a full-time job as a medical librarian at the Texas Medical Center, so I write mostly on the weekends. When I’m close to the end of a book, I’ll write in the evenings too.

S. MAG.: How long does it typically take you to write a book? I’m talking about through all its stages: idea, outline (if applicable), writing, editing, submission.

D.J.: It usually takes four to six months. Sometimes, it takes a little longer.

S. MAG.: Do you ever work on more than one manuscript at a time? So, if you get stuck on one, you can shift to another one?

D.J.: Rarely. Normally I don’t. I find it difficult to create more than one manuscript at a time.

S. MAG.: Tell us about your personal life, if you don’t mind. What would make our readers feel like they know you better?

D.J.: I’m a lot like Charlie. I have two cats, I lost one last May and I ended up getting two that needed a home. I picked a Maine Coon for my books because the first one I ever saw belonged to Barbara Mertz and I borrowed from that to create Diesel. I live a very quiet life. I love to read and I love music. I used to play clarinet and piano. I love old movies.

SuspenseMagazine.com 13 S. MAG.: What professional goals would you like to achieve?

D.J.: The main thing is to have a sustainable career as a full-time writer. I have a great job that I like, I work with people I really like and I really enjoy that.

S. MAG.: What causes are you passionate about?

D.J.: Animal rights, freedom of choice for everybody about whom they marry and where they live, the ability to get good health care, and basic human rights, particularly for children and the elderly.

S. MAG.: In ten years, where would you like to be professionally?

D.J.: I’d like to be well accustomed to debuting at number one on a bestsellers list. (Said firmly tongue in cheek.) I think my trailer park books would make a great TV series. The only problem is that you have to give up control and that’s tricky. I don’t know that I’d want to do that.

S. MAG.: Who are your favorite authors?

D.J.: Elizabeth Peters, Margery Allingham, and of course, Carolyn Haines. Also, Carolyn Hart, Jacqueline Winspear, Ellery Adams, Ellis Peters, Anne Perry.

And now for some silly questions:

S. MAG.: Who is your favorite music group/band?

D.J.: Maroon Five.

S. MAG.: What’s your favorite movie?

D.J.: The Philadelphia Story.

S. MAG.: What’s your favorite historical period?

D.J.: Medieval history, naturally.

S. MAG.: What would you be doing if you weren’t an author?

D.J.: I’d love to be a world-class opera singer. My favorite singers are Placido Domingo, Juan Diego Flores, and Renee Fleming. I love the opera. Joan Sutherland was astonishing. Friends talked me into going to see Tosca about fifteen years ago and I was hooked.

S. MAG.: What are your hobbies?

D.J.: Reading, music, old movies, and TV. My favorite series is “Bewitched.” I also love to travel. I’m going on a cruise next year from Istanbul to Athens. I love London, and I love the Tate Gallery, I love art.

S. MAG.: What do you watch, if you watch TV?

D.J.: The Big Bang Theory, I love that show. It has wonderful writing. I’m just not interested in a lot of things out now. I love SpongeBob SquarePants. Like I said, I prefer older TV shows. I watch a lot of TV Land.

Thank you, Dean, for your time, and your insights. It was a pleasure. To learn more about theCat in the Stacks series, visit the website at: http://www.catinthestacks.com. ■

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 14 Lucky By R.S. Morgan The door opened a crack and the boy looked up and smirked. “You be late, Warren.” “Yeah, and I’m also wet. My bus—” “Cut it out, Kareem,” Brian said as he opened the door. “C’mon in, Warren.” Warren wiped the sleet from his parka then stepped into the kitchen and took off his boots and hung up his parka. From his parka, he pulled out four packages of Twinkies and the latest Thor and set them on the kitchen table. “That’s all you ever bring, Warren,” Kareem said as he eyed the table. “What? You rob a Thor and Twinkies factory?” “Kareem?” All of them turned towards the voice. It was Mr. Gordon, the new house father. He was standing in the dusky living room next to the foosball table. “Being a smartass won’t get you far in life,” Mr. Gordon said. “Next time, try ‘thank you.’ And Warren, I want to see you in my office after you’re done with the boys.” Mr. Gordon turned and walked away and Kareem and Brian watched Warren grimly stare at Mr. Gordon’s back. “Oh-oh,” Kareem whispered after Mr. Gordon stepped into his office. “What’d you steal now, Warren?” # Brian brought Mr. Gordon his Twinkie, even though he knew it was going to end up in the garbage, and then he returned to the kitchen and picked at his Twinkie as they quietly leafed through Thor. Quiet was unusual. Loud was the norm and last week they had gotten extra loud debating what would happen if Thor threw his hammer at Superman. But this time there were no spirited arguments, no raucous teasing when one of them said something too outlandish. They knew something was up. Mr. Gordon had been their foster father for a month and while he wasn’t mean or evil, he didn’t like Warren. And they did. Warren finished his Twinkie then left skinny Kareem and chubby Brian murmuring over Thor and walked into Mr. Gordon’s office. Mr. Gordon nodded at Warren from behind his desk and had him close the door then invited him to sit down. “I did a background check on you, Warren.” Mr. Gordon looked up at Warren, who had opted to stand in front of his desk. “Part of my job. And, unfortunately, what you’ve been telling the boys is true. You were a foster child in this house. You were a car thief, a house burglar, heroin addict, and a heroin dealer. You were locked up in juvie at fifteen out of this foster home for a string of car thefts. Cuffed and hauled away while sitting in the kitchen having dinner. For the next fifteen years you were in and out of prison. Mostly in.” Mr. Gordon leaned back in his swivel chair and set his elbows on the arms of the chair and tented his hands below his mouth. “Care to comment?” Warren looked at Mr. Gordon then set his eyes on the window and gazed out at the small front lawn. “I’m not that man anymore. I’ve changed and I’m never going back to what I was. I’ve been out of prison for eleven years and I’m clean and sober and I’m not going to do anything to go back. I’m ashamed of my past, Mr. Gordon. Wish I could have a do-over. But I can’t. So I’m doing the next best thing, telling the boys here not to become me.”

SuspenseMagazine.com 15 Mr. Gordon, who was twenty-five and had a shaved head, big muscles, and a Masters in social work, tapped his tented fingertips and studied Warren’s profile. “You’re unemployed, Warren, aren’t you?” “Uh-huh,” Warren said to the front lawn. “My company lost a contract and I was let go two months ago. It happens. But I’ve been working pretty steady since walking out of Attica.” “And all your jobs have been janitor jobs, correct?” Warren glanced at Mr. Gordon then went back to the front lawn. “I’m a high school dropout. I’m not book smart. I’m an ex-con.” “That a yes?” Warren nodded. “I’d like something better. Something…meaningful. But flying a mop and cleaning toilets is all I can get.” There was silence. Mr. Gordon bounced his fingertips against the soul patch on his otherwise clean shaven face. “Mind if I ask about your tattoos?” Mr. Gordon eventually said. Warren turned from the window and swung into the chair in front of Mr. Gordon’s desk. He extended his arms and set them on the desk and rotated them. His arms were solidly tattooed from his wrists to his shoulders. A lot of red and black, but also some blue and green. Standing out from the swirling colors were the silver swastikas on his forearms. “There’s also a smiling black widow that takes up most of my back, but I suppose you’ve seen enough. I’m not a neo-Nazi or white supremacist. Never really was. When in Rome and all that.” Warren pulled back his arms and folded then across his chest. Warren was short and wiry. He had long greasy black hair combed straight back and a scraggly goatee flecked with gray. He locked eyes with Mr. Gordon. They studied each other for a while. Then Mr. Gordon said, “You see where this is going?” “I’m hoping you’re going to offer me a job. I’m good with the kids.” Mr. Gordon stopped bouncing his pressed fingertips off his soul patch and studied Warren more intently. Warren seemed to be serious. “Warren…” Mr. Gordon paused as he searched for a kind way to tell Warren. But there didn’t seem to be a kind way. Mr. Gordon dropped his hands to the armrests of his swivel chair and squeezed and took a deep breath and exhaled and said, “Warren, you’re good with the kids because you are a kid. You’re stuck at—I don’t know—twelve. Granted, you seem to be a good-hearted man who wants to do right by the boys. I don’t feel you’re running a con on them or me. But you are a con, an ex-con. And these boys are at risk. They need positive role models. Yes, I know, you tell them all the time to not go down your road. You tell them no stealing, no drugs, no drinking. And thank you for that. But they like you and think you’re cool and if it worked for you…you see what I’m saying? Honestly, I don’t know why the other house fathers let this go on. You can’t come back here anymore.” # Warren didn’t make a big deal of it as he slipped on his parka. Mr. Gordon said he’d tell the boys and Warren agreed. They halfheartedly talked about Thor and the times he fought the Hulk as he laced his boots then Warren was quiet for a few moments as he looked around the kitchen. He lingered for a few more moments on the spot where he was sitting when the police came and cuffed him and he began that bad dream part of his life when he was revolving in and out of prison. Then Warren winked at Brian then Kareem and said good-bye and walked out into the night and the sleet that had warmed to freezing rain. Warren bussed home to his apartment. It wasn’t much and after being banned from the foster home, it seemed even less. It was half of an upper flat in a beat-up hundred-year-old house in a neighborhood of boarded-up or burnt-down houses. The tar paper roof leaked and the ancient wooden windows rattled and even though the landlord ignored his calls, he paid the rent on time every month. Paid his gas and electric on time, too. And he planned on continuing to support himself. Which meant he had to find another job. And soon. Unemployment wasn’t enough and the money he had saved from his last job was almost gone. Warren, as usual, had taken a discarded Buffalo News from the bus. He liked to read the sports, especially about the Bills and the Sabres. Yet since he had lost his job, he read the employment ads first. Warren sat at his kitchen table and spread out the employment section. At first glance, nothing was new. The same janitor and sweatshop factory listings. He had already called all of those and left his number. Only one sweatshop had called back and his jail time had been a deal breaker. Warren set his index finger on the first column and slowly went down it. Nothing. He moved his finger to the next column. Halfway down, his finger stopped.

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 16 Caring man needed. Must be good with children and loyal. Excellent benefits. Apply in person at 2146 South Park Avenue.

It was on the bus route to the foster home and South Park Lake, where he often tossed stale bread to the ducks. And while it was vague enough to be a straight commission scam—telemarketing where people hung up on your smiling voice or door- to-door sales and where doors were closed on your smiling face—he felt he had nothing to lose. # The hard rain had turned to soft snow overnight and the next morning Warren stood in the serene snowfall in front of 2146 South Park Avenue. Yet he didn’t feel serene. An alarm was going off inside his head. He had been there before. Before it closed a year ago, it used to be the news stand where he bought comic books. And maybe that’s what the alarm was about. A deja vu alarm. Yet it seemed more ominous. More like the alarm that went off in his head just before an eruption at Attica. He stood on the sidewalk for a while, doing the math on the possible trouble inside. How bad could it be? The worst he could think of was a hustle where he had to pay a fee if he wanted the job. But all he had in his pockets was five dollars and two stale slices of bread and he’d walk out rather than be swindled out of even the stale bread. Yet those alarm bells in his head continued to clang. Nevertheless, he eventually walked up to the door and silently entered and closed the door. Warren stayed at the door on the welcome mat as he cased the bare storefront. There wasn’t much to case. The stripped-down checkout counter was straight ahead and behind that was the store room. A sky blue silk curtain with the sun and moon and the stars woven into it hung from the store room doorway. All the other racks and counters were gone. Nothing menacing about that. And it didn’t smell like trouble. The walls were freshly painted and the cracked linoleum squares shined with new wax and the fresh paint and new wax mingled agreeably in his nostrils. Yet something wasn’t right. For starters, no one was there. “Hello,” Warren called out from the welcome mat. Warren locked his eyes on the three-dimensional curtain and waited. The curtain looked expensive and ancient and, most of all, out of place. After a minute and two more hellos, Warren turned around and looked out the front window of the store front, thinking the man or woman who placed the ad was out front having a cigarette. Warren craned his neck one way then the other. The popcorn-sized flakes coming down had begun to cover the sidewalk. Scruffy South Park Avenue looked fresh and new. Warren watched the soft snow for a while then turned back around. A man was standing behind the counter. His hands were resting on the counter and he was leaning forward and red- eyeing Warren. “You were thinking of boosting the curtain, weren’t you?” Now the inside of his head was gonging. Warren turned around again and checked out South Park Avenue, expecting to see another man blocking the door. No one was there. Warren turned back around and studied the man behind the counter. He was wearing blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt and he was beefy and buff. He had power-lifting arms and a linebacker neck and both were covered with tattoos. His hair was blond and shoulder length and as fussily pretty as the hair of a beauty queen. Thor hair. But there was nothing girly about him. He looked like a prison warrior. A shot-caller. The man leaned into the counter some more—as if he was going to vault over it and charge—and glowered some more then he straightened up and smiled broadly and strolled in a muscle-bound swagger around the counter and up to Warren and held out his hand. “Just yanking your chain, bone.” Warren stared at the hand. Did the muscular blond think he was a fish? If he shook hands, that ripped right arm could jerk him while the left arm wind milled a shank into his gut. Yet why would he? What was the upside to that? Besides, he couldn’t escape. Warren shook his hand. And the strangeness increased. It was like the man had one of those gag electric buzzers in his hand. And that wasn’t even the strangest part. The tattoos on his arms and neck were the sun and the moon and the stars and they were raised, like a brand, and set against a sky-blue background. His arms and neck looked like the curtain. Warren blinked. Then blinked again. The sun and the moon and the stars appeared to be slowly moving. Warren pulled free of the electric handshake and looked up from the seemingly moving tattoos into the muscular blond’s eyes. “Um, I’m here about the job.” “I know. And you’ll be perfect for it.” The big man reached out and set a hand on Warren’s shoulder and smiled. “But there’s a catch.” “Uh-huh. I’ve seen my share of catches. Can’t remember many good ones.”

SuspenseMagazine.com 17 “Let’s back up for a minute, Warren. You’re in—” “Whoa, whoa.” Warren pressed his back against the entrance door. “How do you know my name?” The muscular blond patted his shoulder then turned and walked back to the counter and sat on it. He dangled his feet and meshed his hands and hunched towards Warren. “I’ll get to that. But first we’re going to talk about the trick bag you’re in. You’re out of work and your future ain’t bright, dog. Jobs are scarce, even janitor jobs, and that ex-con on your resume…well. You’re not living in a very forgiving time. These old hippies running the show now? ‘You do your thing, I do mine?’ Good luck with that. This ain’t no Age of Aquarius, unless Aquarius means mean and greedy. You’re going to end up on welfare and if you think money’s tight on unemployment, you’ll look back on unemployment as the good old days. Then there’s your social life. Or lack of social life. Yeah, I know, you’re an orphan. So you don’t even have a crazy aunt to visit. ‘It is not good for the man to be alone.’ Words of wisdom. All you have are the boys at your old foster home. And, in my opinion, you’re good for them and they’re good for you. But I can understand where Mr. Gordon’s coming from, too. And how’s it all going to shake out? You’ll go back to the foster home. Oh, you won’t come to the door. Just walk by, the other side of the street, and talk to them when they’re outside. Free country, right? You’ll see how free it is for a broke ex-con with the Woodstock Nation calling the shots. Mr. Gordon will drop a dime, the Five-O will roll up and scoop you up for stalking boys, you’ll be boxed up in the holding center while the D.A. runs you through the system, and when you step out into the light five months later, there’ll be an order of protection against you. And you’ll break it. And go back to prison.” They silently locked eyes for a while. The muscular blond idly bounced his dangling heels off the counter. Warren dropped his eyes to the blond man’s neck. Hadn’t the moon been on the other side of his Adam’s apple? “Ain’t right,” Warren said to the man’s thick neck. “What ain’t right? Your future?” “Uh-huh. And you. You ain’t right.” The muscular blond shrugged. “Maybe it’s your lucky day.” Warren looked back up to his eyes. His pupils were now shaped like stars. “Or maybe you’re setting me up for your trick bag.” “Kinda am, Warren. I do have a trick I’m going to play on you. For your own good. But it’s a trick. Nevertheless, you don’t have to say yes to the trick. You’re the shot-caller on this one. But if you do say yes, you’ll love it.” “We talking about my future?” “Yep. And your past. You were dealt a bad hand. No family, not very bright, not very strong, not handsome. But you were always good hearted. You weren’t a punk in prison. But you weren’t a predator, either. You helped some lost souls out just to be decent. And for a man like you, sometimes something like me intervenes. It’s like winning the lottery. There’s no place for you in this world, Warren. It’s just going to be one kick in the teeth after another from here on. So…you want to see Plan B?” The Thor man with the starry eyes stretched his etched and colorful arms in front of him and rotated them and scrutinized them while he waited for Warren to answer. “Doesn’t mean I have to do it, just seeing the plan, right?” Warren eventually said. “Nope,” the muscular blond said, glancing up and smiling. “So what do you have to lose? It’s worth a look.” Warren kept his back pressed against the door. He studied the curtain behind the man and watched the full moon wane for a while. Then he walked up to the blond man. “Now what?” “Now you look.” The man raised his thick right arm and extended his index finger. A star that twinkled and changed colors was tattooed on the tip of his finger and he pressed the star against Warren’s forehead. Warren froze. Then he staggered back. When he came back to the world, he was pressed up against the door. “That’s winning the lottery?” Warren said with a raspy voice, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. “I don’t think so.” “Like I said, it’s your call.” “You also said there’s a trick. What’s the trick?” “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a trick. Bottom line, though, all you have to do is think no. Just think no. But I believe it’s a great deal. You’re back inside the foster home, back 24\7. Except now you’ll be getting the treats.” “You’re a crazy… whatever you are.”

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 18 The muscular blond smiled tranquilly and his starry eyes sparkled. “I’m stardust, Warren. And so are you. Good luck. If you want to do it, all you have to do is think it.” “You’re asking a lot, you know. Too much. And I’m thinking what you want me to do is a crime. One of those crimes against humanity.” “Just—” “I know. Thing is, I can’t see how I could think yes. And I’ll be watching for your trick. But, hey, nice meeting you. It’s been…different.” Warren turned and put his hand on the door knob then looked back over his shoulder. “Hey, if I have questions, you going to be around?” The Thor man laughed pleasantly then said, “I’m always around, Warren.” Warren lingered his eyes on the stardust blond with the orbiting tattoos then nodded and turned his head back around and walked out into the snow. He walked to his bus stop and stood there in a daze, trying to make sense of it all. He had planned on going home. But for what? To stare into a cup of coffee with a scrambled brain? Warren pulled in some frosty air then pushed it out then decided he was going to walk around South Park Lake and feed the ducks. But before visiting the ducks he was going to detour past the foster home. Kareem and Brian would probably be outside, knuck-heading around in winter’s first snow. He wasn’t going to stop and he was going to stay on the other side of the street. He was just going to ask them a stupid question, the kind that made them laugh, then keep on walking. That wasn’t stalking. Warren walked down McKinley Parkway and up over the bridge over the railroad tracks. The foster home then came into view and, as expected, Kareem and Brian were outside, throwing slushy snowballs at each other. And so was Mr. Gordon. Warren stopped. Then began walking again. If they didn’t see him, he was going to walk past and ask the ducks the stupid question. Brian saw him. “Hey, Warren, stop right there.” Brian rounded a sloppy snowball as he stepped to the curb. “I got something for you. Special delivery.” Warren stopped on the sidewalk. No harm there. He’d been asked to stop. And it was only going to be a second. He looked at Brian packing his snowball then looked at Kareem who had joined him at the curb and was doing the same. Then he looked at Mr. Gordon. He was frowning sternly as he pulled out his cell phone. “Ah, you rag arms can’t even reach the double yellow. Besides, I gotta go. Places to go, ducks to feed. But I got a question for you. Thor versus Santa Claus. Who wins that fight?” Brian and Kareem threw their snowballs and both plopped harmlessly short then Kareem raised both arms over his head and waved them towards Warren. “Warren, that is your all time dumbest question,” Kareem said as he stepped off the curb. “Santa Claus ain’t real.” Kareem took three more steps towards Warren then stopped and put his hands on his hips and smiled as he vigorously shook his head. Warren glanced up at Mr. Gordon, who was grimly talking into his cellphone then he glanced at Kareem, whose smile had widened, then he glanced at Brian, who was looking down the street with his mouth hanging open. Warren followed Brian’s eyes. A SUV was heading through the fresh snow towards Kareem. A teenage girl was behind the wheel. She was looking down, text messaging. Warren ran from the sidewalk into the street, knowing he’d be too late. Brian watched him. Kareem, still oblivious, watched him. Then they watched the snow sparkle and blur and out of the blur popped a running dog. A big muscular yellow Lab. The blond dog sprinted then sprung into the air and knocked Kareem back towards the curb as the SUV skidded and fishtailed. Kareem blinked his eyes as he sat in the snow on the street in front of the curb. The dog was next to him, wagging his rump and licking Kareem’s face with his long tongue. Brian remained frozen on the sidewalk, his mouth still gapped. Mr. Gordon looked up from his cellphone and looked up and down the street. “What? Where’d Warren go?” “Never mind about Warren, Mr. Gordon.” Kareem reached over and hugged the dog. The dog was wiggling and licking frantically. “You see what happened? This dog saved my life. We have to keep this dog. Keep him and call him Lucky.” Kareem turned his head and looked at Brian. Brian closed his mouth and walked to Kareem and the dog and knelt down. The yellow Lab slobbered on Brian’s face as both he and Kareem looked into his eager eyes. “I know something else that ain’t real,” Kareem whispered to the dog. “You ain’t real, Lucky.” Kareem then looked at Brian. They nodded at each other. Both knowing luck had nothing to do with Lucky. ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 19 America's Favorite Suspense Authors On the Rules of Fiction Writing Momentum, Michael Connelly’s Way By Anthony J. Franze Photo Credit: Philippe Matsas In this series, author Anthony J. Franze interviews other sus- pense 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, #1 New York Times bestselling author Michael Connelly shares his advice.

Michael Connelly is a writer’s writer. As a journalist, he was short- listed for the Pulitzer Prize. He went on to become an acclaimed crime reporter for the Los Angeles Times. And when he turned to fiction, he achieved a level of success experienced by few writers, including more than fifty million books sold, too many literary awards to list, and blockbuster movie adaptations of his work. Connelly’s latest novel, “The Black Box,” proves again that he remains at the top of his game. But when it comes to the rules of writing, well, Connelly said he’s not the kind of writer who has a neat little set of rules. When we spoke recently, Connelly said that he uses just a few devices to “keep the writing momentum going.” By that he means combating the struggle most writers confront to stay excited about writing. Writing momentum, Connelly said, serves an obvious practical purpose: getting the book done. “But more important, if I can’t wait to write those pages, hopefully the reader can’t wait to read

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 20 them. Conversely, if I feel like I’m blocked or trudging along, the reader may too. I need the momentum and excitement.” So how does Connelly keep the momentum of a runaway train after two decades as a novelist? He pointed out some advice he’s received from other authors along the way. Write Every Day. Connelly credits novelist Harry Crews for impressing upon him the need to write every day. “Crews knew how difficult it is to stay focused and that writing each day not only helps the writer develop discipline, but also prevents the story from wandering away.” If you write every day—even for just fifteen minutes—you immerse yourself in the characters and the plot, which keeps you eager to move the story ahead. If you can’t write every day, Connelly said, make sure the story is always close, churning in your head. “To use a surfing metaphor, it’s a lot of paddling for a short ride, so you’ve got to find ways to keep the wave going. Writing every day is a method to help you stay on the board.” Make Sure Your Characters Want Something on Every Page. Connelly said he follows Kurt Vonnegut’s advice: “Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.” This helps keep the characters active, which builds momentum. Also, “showing how people get what they want shows the kind of person they are, their character. A great book, something I want to read or write, is all about character. So when I write, I do this by showing the big and little things characters want; the big things, like they want to solve a murder, or small things, like the character desperately wants a cigarette.” At the end of each writing day, Connelly prints off that day’s pages and the next morning he reviews each page and asks himself, What does each character want? Then, “I rewrite, rewrite, and rewrite. I start the next day editing the prior day’s work, which also gets me into writing.” Be Wary of the Outline. Connelly recognizes that writers differ on the virtues of an outline. He gave up outlining after his first novel because “it made writing seem like work,” a momentum killer. In his early years as a novelist he still worked as a journalist. When he came home at night to work on his novel, he didn’t like being chained to an outline. “It felt like a boss telling me what to do.” Today, he usually knows the beginning and ending of the book, but enjoys the freedom and fun of leaving the middle unknown. It’s the middle that keeps him excited to return to the blank page. “I know I’m plugged in if I don’t need my alarm clock; I wake myself up ready to go.” That said, if an outline or some other device is a writer’s way to stay energized about the story and to keep the momentum going, Connelly said, “go for it.” ■

*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), Steve Berry (Kelly Campbell), John Lescroart (provided by author), Gayle Lynds (www.gaylelynds.com), Richard North Patterson (Miranda Lewis), Anthony J. Franze (provided by author), Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child (provided by authors), John Gilstrap (Kensington Publishing), Catherine Coulter (provided by author), Brad Meltzer (Herman Estevez), Heather Graham (provided by author), Andrew Gross (provided by author), and Robert Dugoni (provided by author)

SuspenseMagazine.com 21 From David Morrell, the Acclaimed Author of First Blood and The Brotherhood of the Rose . . .

1811—the ratcliffe Highway mass murders rival Jack the ripper’s for terrorizing london and all of england.

1854—the notorious thomas De Quincey returns to london. along with his Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, he is infamous for a blood-soaked essay about the murders.

Five days later—the killings begin again.

Murder as a Fine Art “One of DaviD MOrrell’s strongest and boldest books in years.”

— Dan SimmonS, New York Times bestselling author of Drood and The Terror

“a Masterpiece— i don’t use that word lightly. a brilliant historical thriller, beautifully written, intricately plotted, and populated with unforgettable characters. if you liked The Alienist, you will absolutely love this book.”

— DouglaS PreSton, #1 bestselling author of The Monster of Florence

Murder as a Fine Art Available in hardcover, audio, and e-book formats May, ISBN 978-0-316-21679-1, $25.99/$28.99 Canada Mulholland Books, an Imprint of Little, Brown and Company davidmorrell.net • mulhollandbooks.com David Morrell is an Edgar, Anthony, and Macavity nominee, a 3-time Stoker recipient, and ITW’s 2009 Thriller Master. Illustrations by Tomislav Tikulin WHISTLE by the GRAVEYARD By Laura Kathryn Rogers Hey! Yeah, I’m talking to you! Come on over here, and I’ll tell you something that happened when I was ten years old. Yeah, I’m Junior Hoffman, and you heard right. I’m an old codger. Ninety-six last Spring. I’m the oldest man in Sanford County. That lyin’ sap-sucker George Tucker said that he was, but he wasn’t. Had him beat by a day. And anyway, he got struck by lightning two months ago, right in his own front yard while he was cussing at the mailman. So, now, I’m definitely the oldest man in Sanford County. So, you’re settled comfortable now? Well don’t be comfortable for long. This story is gonna scare the bejesus out of you. Worse part is, I ain’t no good storyteller. This story is just plain true. You know how some folks like to act tougher than what they are? Like they ain’t scared of nothin’, right? Well, let me tell you. Comes a time when someone like that meets up with something they can’t understand nor figure out. And that’s what happened with Jill Ledbetter and Paul James. What they learned sure took the ‘tough’ right outta them. Sure did. It was about June, I think. School had just got out and most of us was working in the fields for our Daddies and such. I had been since it had gotten hot, which as you know, in Florida is about always. So, I didn’t manage to go to school much. But I always hated sitting still, so being out in the fields suited me just fine. I was takin’ a break and drinking some water that my Mam had put some sugar and lemon in. It don’t sound like much, but man, you put a top on that stuff in a mason jar and cool it in the creek, you’ll find it sure hits the spot. But, I was telling you that story. You don’t care about cold sugar water that you can’t taste the like of anymore, anyhow do you? No, of course not. So, here’s what happened. You see there was this old graveyard, Mabsey’s, just off the side of town, where nobody who had good sense ever went after dark. Nobody much went there in the daylight. Weird things happened there. Bad things. At night there were lights where they ought not to be lights, and sounds too. Sounds you wouldn’t expect from a graveyard. No one had been put there for ages. It was an old Indian burial ground. Then a few folks who came over from other places. I think some Spaniards, and old time colonial folks. Well, that yard got full right quick, and someone had the smart thought to put a fence all around it and leave it alone, except for a gate that nobody used, cause no one ever wanted to go in there. There was a story about how this little gal went in there daily to sit at the grave of her feller, one of the boys who fell down fighting for us at Gettysburg against them Yankees. She just about grieved herself down to nothin’ over that poor old boy. Then, one day, she wasn’t there no more. Or sorta wasn’t. She’d sing his favorite song “Listen to the Mockingbird” over his tombstone. Folks coming by at the time she was there got used to hearing it. But then, she wasn’t there anymore, but folks still heard the song. They just didn’t see anyone there singing.

SuspenseMagazine.com 23 Then some no-goods from Mecklin country came over and decided to throw a drunk out at the graveyard. No particular reason, just up to no good. They showed up, sat on a few stones, and started out to have a good time. The next morning, the liquor, hardly touched, was there. They weren’t. No one ever saw them again. But plenty was heard of them. Every once in a while, you’d hear them fellers beggin and pleading to be ‘let out.’ So, the graveyard became a thing to be let alone, and pretty much walked a big circle around. I was just like the rest. I was working for my Daddy, and he said if we brought in a good harvest, he’d give me a dollar bill to spend any way I liked. Now, this was when sixteen dollars would buy my Mam a brand new cook stove. I was planning every durned day out in that heat what I was gonna do with my riches. Well, here came Jill Ledbetter and Paul James, laughing and full of beans. They liked to spend time together, and not cause they was sweet on each other, neither. It was cause they were mean as two snakes in a flour bag, and that was just separately. Put them two together, and there was bound to be trouble. The two were in the same grade, and if they weren’t givin’ each other idears about how to trouble another kid or the schoolmarm, they were laughing about what they did or what they was gonna do. That day, they was headed my way. I stood in the corn, hoping they wouldn’t see me. Part of why I didn’t like school was the way they lit into me and the other kids who hadn’t grown big enough to fight ‘em. I knew that me not bein’ in school wouldn’t slow ‘em down none. Sure enough, they were talking about payin’ me a visit. “Let’s grab some eggs and hide ‘em...and when they get good and rotten...” Jill was saying. “Or maybe some dewberries...they’d never come out of that one shirt he never seems to take off...” Paul was sayin’ back. That day, something just got hold of me, and I decided to take a chance with these two old bullies of the schoolyard. “Ya’ll don’t wanna fool with me like that.” I said, coming out of my hiding place. “Yeah?” Paul said, rearing up to the height that made him the most feared kid in the grammar school. I just about lost my nerve. What was I gonna say? What could I come up with to take their attention away from tormenting me? Then, like the lightning that struck that old lying George Tucker deader than a doornail, the idea hit me. “I bet ya’ll won’t whistle when you walk by Mabsey’s graveyard.” “What?” Jill said, laughing in a way that made her pretty face, well...ugly. “Who cares about old Mabsey’s graveyard. Just old hoodlums and Indians buried there. No one cares about it.” I had to think fast. “Well, I heard that whatever you do when you walk by there at midnight, the graveyard...or something in it, will do back.” The two cohorts looked blank for a minute, minds off whatever misery they planned to add to the berry and egg stoning they had in had in mind for me. “Who told you this, kid?” Paul asked, stepping a foot closer than I would have liked. I was stuck. You see, I was lyin’ a blue streak. I gulped hard. “Why, I heard it myself. I was walkin’ by it on the way home last night. I was whistling as I walked by, so I wouldn’t be scared. And something in there whistled back. Like it was callin’ for me.” I knew it all sounded stupid, gushing out, but I was trying to save my hide from a good pummeling from Paul at this point. One that I knew Jill would help him do. And I might try to hit Paul, but my Mam told me to never hit a girl, even a mean one. Jill squinted her bright green eyes at me, and considered what I said. “Don’t believe you a bit.” She said. Then, she looked at Paul. “I think we should put him in a sack, and tie it up and put him in there to stay the night. Maybe something in there would eat him the way it ate up them bunch of drunks that camped there. Remember?” “Ummm, hummm,” Paul said, considering. “It whistled, you said? Like it wanted you to come to it?” “Sure did,” I said, wondering how long it would take my Daddy to think of looking for me in a tied up burlap sack in a haunted graveyard. “I’m gonna try it. In fact, I’m gonna go right at midnight and try it,” he said, surprising the heck out of me. “But if nothing happens, get ready to like living in a burlap sack.” Well, that night, I went home, ate dinner, and told Mam and Daddy I was sick to my stomach and asked could I go to bed early. Since I didn’t normally take on like that, they let me. Mam came and checked on me before they went to sleep. I climbed out the window and ran to the graveyard, wondering if Jill and Paul would come. I wasn’t much at telling time, ‘sides looking at the moon, and listening for the church-bell and countin’. And they was a little late. But, just after midnight, both of them

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 24 came. Jill first, then a minute later, Paul. I hid behind a tree near the fence of Mabsey’s, scared to be so close, but still watchin’. I knew nothing was gonna happen like what I said would happen, but I wondered if something else would. Paul started up the whistling first. He walked one time the whole length of the weathered old fence, and then back, whistling up a storm. Jill joined him, her own girlish whistle. “See, nothing...I told you...I...” Jill was saying. But then, from somewhere within, a sound was heard. “You hear that?” Paul whispered. “Shut up.” “Listen!” The whistle, sounding somewhat cheerful came from the back of the burying ground. Those two bullies, so quick to pound fear into others, seemed to freeze where they stood. Then, they recovered. They began to whistle back, again walking up and down in front of the graveyard. The whistle, closer this time, got louder. And had a strange quality to it. Even I wanted to leave the safety of my hiding place and get closer to listen. I thought of the story my Mam told me about a pied piper leading children plum out of town ...she told me that story when I was a little feller. I liked it and made her tell me it again and again. I wondered why I thought of it now. Then I saw Paul, as if being pulled by something walking towards the rarely used gate of the cemetery. Jill tired to grab at him. “Stay away from there. It could be anything. Watch, I’ll throw something at it. It’ll stop!” She grabbed some rocks and threw it at the sound of the whistling, which was quite close by this time. The source of the whistling nowhere to be found. When Jill threw them, out of pure idiotic defiance, she began to whistle, loud. “See there, I can do it, too!” She hollered. The whistling was so loud by this time that it was hurting my ears. I looked and saw that Paul had begun to move, quickly towards the gate, though it was clearly not his idea. He had gone into the cemetery. And then, he was just gone. Poof. Like he’d never been there. Jill, half her defiance gone by the sight of that, tried to run, but couldn’t seem to use her feet the way she wanted. The whistle took on a new tone, one that sounded charming, mysterious, compelling. And she moved towards the cemetery...and was gone. It was all I could do not to follow them. The pull from the whistling was so hard that it was like being gripped with the fever and ague. You just don’t feel in control of yourself. I grabbed onto that tree I was hiding behind with all my strength and started saying the bedtime prayer Mam taught me, but that I usually forgot to say. Suddenly, the sound was gone. Shaking to my toes, I took off, ran home, and woke up Mam and Daddy. They was too shocked by my crazy story to be mad at me for leaving home in the middle of the night, and they came out to Mabsey’s. The gate was in place, as if nothing had happened...except for one thing...skid marks up to it, as if the kids had truly been pulled into the place by some huge force. The marks of the struggle stopped just inside the yard...and there was nothing there. “Now this don’t mean nothing. Boy, are you playing a joke? I’ve got a razor strap that will cure that...” Daddy said. But Daddy knew I didn’t tell wild tales. He went into town and stopped at Jill’s house, and then Paul’s. Both kids weren’t in their beds. They were bullies. And none of us other kids ever missed ‘em to be sure. But nothing was ever found of either of them. Except, about a month later, one of Jill’s shoes near an old grave. Now, I’m here to tell you. Ninety-six years old, and never heard of such anywhere else except that in the years since, a few others have tried it...walking by and whistlin’. And these were grown folks that ought to have known better. No one ever saw anymore of them neither. It’s a bad place, Mabsey’s. So, why am I telling you? ‘Cause someone will, sometime or another. And you look like a kid that likes to take a dare. You say you’re gonna try it? Well, son, I’m here to tell you, you’ve been warned. I’m the oldest man in this county. I didn’t get that way by doing foolish stuff. You better listen to me and not do it. Well, durned if he didn’t go. But I’ll tell you folks readin’ this story. If you walk by Mabsey’s tonight or some other time, you better not whistle at the graveyard. Chances are, likely as not, you’ll probably get a response. ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 25 Horror’s new Voice John Mulhall By CK Webb for Suspense Magazine Photo Credit: Provided by Author I am often on the prowl for my next “favorite” book. I sift through bins at every store I come to, hoping to stumble across that little diamond in the rough. So, you can imagine my joy when one of my new favorites landed squarely in my lap via a book review request. When I met John Mulhall just two short months ago, his novel, “Geddy’s Moon” had fewer than forty reviews. It has quite a few more now and 130 of those are five-stars! I suspect this writer will be around for quite some time and that readers will quickly add the book and writer to their list of favs. I caught up with John recently and we sat down to discuss his debut novel, “Geddy’s Moon.” Here’s what he had to say.

Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): How long did it take you to write “Geddy’s Moon” from concept to publication?

John Mulhall (J.M.): This is always a fun question. I started writing “Geddy’s Moon” when I was eighteen or nineteen years old, so if we include that stretch, then it took well over twenty years! [laughs] More than that, actually…I took nearly a twenty-year hiatus from the book! I returned to the idea in 2012, and began writing in earnest on June 24 (2012). I started with the old outlines and chapters, but quickly realized that, while many of the ideas were solid, most everything would have to be re-written. So, I set a fairly aggressive writing schedule and finished the first draft of the book in seventy-seven days on September 9, 2012. The editing phase then took several months. I ultimately utilized four different editors, who all added something invaluable to the process; however, it was somewhat painful at times, not to mention time- consuming. We finally went to print (in Kindle format first) on February 20, 2013. So let’s see, it’s either twenty-two years (give or take), or almost eight months.

S. MAG.: The book has been received by readers with open arms. What is it about “Geddy’s Moon” that stands out from other horror novels?

J.M.: Well, maybe it’s because I admire the genre so much, but I like to think of “Geddy’s Moon” as a novel that actively embraces the things I love about horror, rather than standing apart from them.

Now, I think if you talk to readers who’ve embraced the book—and bless them, by the way—they might say it stands out because it’s got a lot of heart. I’ve had many people approach me and say something to that effect; “I don’t like horror, but I love your book.” I thank them, of course, and I’m truly gratified when people respond to the book in any way. However, there’s a part of me that secretly wants to challenge their position. See, I think horror has gotten a bad rap. I just don’t think people know horror. They’ve come to think of it as being synonymous with B-movie slasher films or torture porn or schlock.

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 26 But I was raised on horror. I grew up relishing stories told by master writers like Matheson and King and Bradbury. And the things I absolutely adore about well-written horror are the nuances, the textures, and most definitely the heart. Horror isn’t synonymous with nihilism, or the bleak. Often you’re talking about stories where average people face extraordinary situations, and you get to find out, as the reader, if they have the strength not only to endure but to overcome and prevail. Those are my favorite kinds of stories.

Yes, I love the macabre. Yes, I love irony. And yes, I definitely love a good chill down my spine. But I also enjoy seeing the little guy facing down all of the things that go bump in the night. I like to think “Geddy’s Moon” is a small part of a grand tradition of horror, and it makes me smile to think that some people may be discovering or rediscovering horror by way of the book.

S. MAG.: In your opinion, what is the most difficult part of writing good horror?

J.M.: I think it depends on what kind of horror story you’re writing, but for me it’s simply maintaining balance. For one, I strive to keep things realistic enough to keep the reader invested, while giving them enough of the “fantastic” to keep them intrigued. So, that’s a balancing act. But I also endeavor to walk the fine line between slowly building suspense, arriving at terror, and then eventually sliding into the horrifying. That’s a huge balancing act.

It’s kind of like good sex, in my opinion; prolonged foreplay builds into a tension that, at a certain point, begs to be released. In horror, I want the reader to be at that point, practically begging for a respite. And as the author, when I grant that release, I know it’s time to start building again. Ever-heightening peaks and valleys. That’s the most difficult part, in my opinion. To do that, I have to be in the moment, in the world I’m writing, going on the journey with the reader.

S. MAG.: If you could take any classic horror tale and rewrite it, making it your own, which tale would you chose and why?

J.M.: That’s a very interesting question to answer, because I typically don’t like to tell stories that have been told before. I do enjoy taking little pieces of the stories I like—character archetypes, motifs, themes—and incorporating them into something new. I think of building a story kind of like creating a Frankenstein’s monster, cherry-picking the very best little tidbits of what’s come before in the service of something new. Even as a child, when I’d play with my brother or with friends, it was rarely reenacting movies or TV shows or pre-existing stories, it was always taking familiar elements—war-torn soldier, quest for treasure, salty ship captain, robot companions—and making something new out of it. Maybe I should just say Frankenstein, huh? [laughs]

But, for the sake of giving you an actual answer to this question, let’s say “Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” simply because I love the idea that something as complex as the duality of man could be explored in a really creepy and fascinating way. Or perhaps “The Time Machine”? The idea of the Eloi versus the Morlocks—the pampered ineffectual “haves” versus the working- class tunnel-dwelling “have-nots”—would take on a renewed and frightening relevance, wouldn’t it?

S. MAG.: As children, we are often frightened of things we cannot see or that simply do not exist. What was the thing that made you tuck your feet in tight beneath the covers?

J.M.: Oh, I was very easily frightened as a child. And I’d have to say the thing I was most afraid of was simply the dark. My imagination has always been very fertile, and so when it was dark, my mind would fill in the blackness with all manner of unpleasant things. Any scary book or movie was fantastic source material for my imagination.

I remember watching this ’70s vampire film called Count Yorga with my mom in the middle of the night once when I couldn’t sleep. I remember thinking I was ready for it at the time; I must’ve been in the first or second grade. Needless to say, I wasn’t. And I used to have a book of poems by James Whitcomb Riley, and many of them are quite creepy; “Little Orphan Annie,” for example, was about goblins coming to get you if you were a bad kid. All of these little seeds would plant themselves in my imagination and take root, and then come to the surface in the dark.

S. MAG.: What are the author and titles of the three books closest to you right now?

J.M.: Answer 1 (closest in proximity): “The Great Book of Amber” by Roger Zelazny; “The Five” by Robert McCammon; and “Intaglio” by Danika Stone.

Answer 2 (closest to my heart): This is an ever-revolving list, as you might imagine. [laughs] Currently, I’m going to say “Lord of the Flies” by William Golding; “Something

SuspenseMagazine.com 27 “My imagination has always been very fertile, and so when it was dark, my mind would fill in the blackness with all manner of unpleasant things.” Wicked This Way Comes” by Ray Bradbury; and “Boy’s Life” by Robert McCammon. I reserve the right to change that completely come tomorrow.

S. MAG.: What is horror for you? Is it gore and disturbing images or is something more?

J.M.: In my opinion, gore is the basest level of horror. It’s visceral. It definitely serves a purpose and is a powerful tool, but it’s easy too, and it shouldn’t be overused. It’s akin to a “jump scare” in a movie. But gore isn’t really innately scary, if you think about it. The stories that I like are the ones that keep you wondering, using your own imagination, for as long as possible. A creaky noise can be so much more frightening than a gaping wound, given the right atmosphere. And so, I try to dwell in suspense for as long as possible, then terror, and then maybe just a pinch of gore, especially if I’m trying to achieve some instinctive reaction.

S. MAG.: How do you scare your readers?

J.M.: My hope is that I scare my readers honestly. By that I mean that I take the time to set the stage, to introduce the characters and develop them a bit, and then to introduce “the threat.” Once there is a credible threat that places characters—whom you believe in and identify with—in peril, then the scares should come naturally. I’d rather my readers get goose bumps at something that grows out of the story organically, than to scream and throw the book at something that comes out of left field, that isn’t earned. My hope is that I’m always serving the story faithfully, and in doing so, I’m serving the reader. And yes, hopefully scaring them from time to time, as well. [laughs]

S. MAG.: If you could co-write a book with any two writers, dead or alive, who would you choose and why?

J.M.: Man, that’s a hard one. Not only in narrowing down the writers I’d choose, but in thinking about enmeshing my will and style with writers who are like legends to me. I think I’d rather just go back in time and watch them work; that would be such a fascinating thing for me. But since that’s not your question [laughs], I’d have to say Hemingway, just for the experience. You have to figure that would be awful and amazing. And also, Dr. Seuss. I think I’d learn a lot from him, how his mind worked. I’d walk away richer from that collaboration, no doubt.

S. MAG.: What is the greatest horror book-to-film adaptation?

J.M.: This may be controversial, given Stephen King’s own loathing of the adaptation, but I’m going to sayThe Shining. Both book and film are utterly fascinating to me, and for entirely different reasons. I’m a lover of books and of film, and I also understand that they are two totally different mediums. It’s almost impossible for a director to make a completely faithful movie adaptation and also make a brilliant film. I thinkThe Shining is about as close as you can get to both movie and book standing on their own as art. Whether you like one or the other is incidental, really.

S. MAG.: If “Geddy’s Moon” was adapted for film, who would be featured on the soundtrack?

J.M.: Oh that would be a fun soundtrack, actually, given that a part of the book takes place in 1983. There are so much fun, classic early-80’s tracks to mine. A couple tracks are mentioned in the book, notably “I Know What Boys Like,” by The Waitresses, and “Leave in Silence,” by Depeche Mode. But I can definitely see that being fun; I can picture some Madness, maybe, and some Psychedelic Furs. For the more contemporary parts of the book, I can see the music being a little darker in tone. Maybe Portishead, or Massive Attack?

S. MAG.: What is the one thing, in your opinion, that is most important for new writers starting out?

J.M.: A sense of humor? [laughs] No, in all seriousness, they need tenacity. The tenacity to continue writing, and to fail, and to write some more, and fail some more. And the tenacity to get their stories read. To persevere, and push, and be their own advocate, again and again, until someone takes notice, sits down and reads and finally says, “hey, you know what, this ain’t half bad.”

Suspense Magazine would like to thank John Mulhall for sitting down with us and letting us get a glimpse into the mind of one of horror’s newest allies. Thanks to his incredible publicist as well! You can learn more about John Mulhall by visiting his website at www.johnmulhall.com. ■

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 28

Suspense Magazine Book Reviews Inside the Pages APOCALYPSE COW CHARRED By Michael Logan By Kate Watterson “The way I see it if the saints can experience divine visions, why can’t the sinners?” Why did I This quote by the elusive pyromaniac/serial killer nicknamed The Burner, provides the decide to pick up chills and thrills in the second Detective Ellie MacIntosh novel by Kate Watterson. “Charred” this book? I hadn’t follows Ellie and her new partner, Jason Santiago, as they traverse the Milwaukee area to catch a read a book in 20 killer with a deadly and fiery agenda. y e a r s — m a y b e Set during an unusually hot summer, the work of a serial arsonist is just the thing to turn longer—but by just up the oven-like heat by several degrees. The killer has mostly struck in broad daylight and uses a form of looking at the cover, accelerant to not only burn the houses he chooses to the ground but also successfully cover up the evidence on Michael Logan the bodies he leaves behind. had my undivided attention. Ellie and Jason do not have much to work on and the only pattern The Burner seems to have left behind is The different approach on an that the remains found at each fire all appear to be female. Each chapter opens with a peek inside the mind of apocalypse was unparalleled the killer. The killer not only seems to be aware of each move the police make but also remains a step ahead of from all the zombie movies and them at each turn. Houses continue to burn, leaving behind charred corpses as the only form of evidence and books recently released. After the police seem incapable of stopping this madman. completing the book, the quote: Kate Watterson has created a novel that builds tension with each passing chapter and drops enough clues “Forget the cud. They want for shrewd mystery fans to piece together. Ellie MacIntosh is quickly isolated in this novel as she even distrusts blood,” didn’t leave my mind. her new partner. Her personal life is already complicated by the fact that her live-in lover was a lead suspect in The burning of a her last case. The fact that the killer may be closer than she can imagine will keep readers frantically turning the pages long into the night with this well-plotted mystery. Here’s hoping Watterson has more Ellie MacIntosh slaughterhouse was supposed to cases up her sleeve. be the end of this virus—or so Reviewed by Ray Palen for Suspense Magazine ■ the British government thought. And it all started with one cow LOOMING MURDER (A WEAVING MYSTERY) and three unlikely heroes. As they By Carol Ann Martin begin their alliances by chance, The first in a brand new series, cozy lovers as well as weavers are absolutely going to love ‘attaching’ the three of them: Geldof, Lesley, themselves to this character. and Terry struggle to bring the Della Wright has just moved into a house in Briar Hollow, which is a small town located near the Blue truth to light. Ridge Mountains. This house belongs to a lifelong friend of Della’s. And this friend, Matthew, has switched All hell breaks loose when with her, moving into Della’s condo in Charlotte, North Carolina because he’s taking a teaching position at the one cow starts spreading a virus, University and wants to be close to work. This seems like the best solution for both of them, seeing as Della not only to other cows but to can’t afford to keep up two apartments and has just been through a more than ‘sticky’ situation at work. other animals as well. Once the Della’s dream has always been to open a weaving studio, and Matthew’s house is the perfect place to epidemic is at an all time high, the introduce her new business that she calls Dream Weavers. Setting up workshops for beginners, as well as those government attempts to rescue who already know how to weave, Della is surprised that on opening day a half-dozen people arrive. Nice folks, the populous, but it’s already but extremely talkative, these particular people seem to know everyone in town and all the ‘darker’ sides of their too late. After being trapped in private business. a house with voracious animals, Things are going well until a local businessman, who is known to have a slightly shady reputation, is found murdered—and one of Della’s students is suspected of the crime. Getting involved in the investigation, Della Geldof, Lesley, Terry, and the rest receives help from Matthew who suddenly decides to return to his hometown. Now, not only does Della have of their motley crew realize that to move out and close up shop, but she also has to solve the crime. they all need to work together A plot that is a whole lot of fun, readers will love Della’s strength when it comes to taking charge. and make a plan if they want to Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense survive. Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ The plan they devise includes piling into a Volkswagen FORBIDDEN SISTER Beetle and heading south towards By V.C. Andrews the English Channel and on to I always love reading new authors, delving into a style I’m unaccustomed with. Then there France. In addition to dodging the are those authors who you pick up again after a long time and feel like you’re back home again. ravenous animals, which seems That’s the way it was for me reading “Forbidden Sister.” It’s been some time since I’ve picked up bad enough in itself, they realize a V.C. Andrews book and I realized how much I’ve always loved her voice, style, and storylines. a secret government agent is on Emmie Wilcox, fifteen years old, has a secret. It’s her sister Roxy who was cast out of the their tail and will stop at nothing family when Emmie was only six. She has few memories of Roxy, but wants to make more. Or to keep the secret he’s protecting. does she? Better question is, should she? The fantasy and mysterious idea of having an older sister Once the action starts, it she can learn from, mimic, and share day-to-day life with is something out of a fairytale book, but one Emmie never ends. Logan knows how to wants to come true. She finds out where Roxy lives and with her at-the-time best friend, spies on her. Roxy’s get someone’s attention, and he world seems glamorous and Emmie wants to know more. definitely had mine. As a debut When the family dynamics change in a grievous way, Emmie strikes out to create ties with Roxy, whether author, his writing style and she wants them or not. That’s when Emmie finds out that Roxy’s life isn’t one consisting of peaches and cream, straight-to-the-point approach is but it’s too late because she’s already thrown into what could become a dangerous way of survival. going to get him far. Andrews’s new series starts with “Forbidden Sisters.” If you liked “Flowers in the Attic” (who didn’t?), you Reviewed by Phillip Reina for will love this new series just as much, if not more. A must read. Suspense Magazine ■ Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Other Side: Melinda’s Story” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 30 DEEPLY ODD A HOSTAGE TO By Dean Koontz HERITAGE With every new Odd Thomas book, fans are offered a true ‘gift’ from an extraordinary By Suzanne Adair mind. This time around, we hear nothing but bells, something that reminds Odd a move may This second be coming. Annamaria, who has a mind as beguiling as Odd’s, announces that his journey to novel featuring Lt. purchase socks and other essentials may just turn into another quest that will have him drawn Michael Stoddard, a like a ‘magnet’ to danger. Although Odd believes bravado is not something needed for a sock- criminal investigator buying trip, the chiming bell, the strange words from the pregnant woman, not to mention a sudden vision in the British army of a violent burning, all combine into a thrill ride of mammoth proportions. during the American Chasing down a cowboy with Alfred Hitchcock popping in every once in a while may sound like a Revolutionary War, plotline from Mars, but when it comes to Odd, this is normal. Odd discovers he must face down an evil comes hard on the being. However, in order to stop this man from the horror Odd has seen, he needs a car. His wish is granted heels of Suzanne Adair’s previous and he teams up with a little old lady named Edie who has a Mercedes limo, a driver who has just passed novel, picking up the action scant away, and a husband on ice. Edie has friends who can help Odd out, so Edie and Odd hit the road in order weeks after the close of “Regulated to stop the madman and his circle of icky friends. for Murder.” The amazing mentions all readers love fromThe X-Files to the Death Star are here, as well as new images It is 1781 and in the colony of to fill the mind, from Casa Bolthole to Lonely Possum. There are mysteries, battles, and a villain beyond North Carolina, the bitter war of committed to his faith that scares us to death. revolution is taking a horrific toll on Koontz is still the only writer who can offer a soliloquy and then effortlessly spin, “A priest walks into its inhabitants. Michael is assigned a bar,” joke into the same paragraph. Odd Thomas is among the hierarchy of the most amazing fictional the task of finding and eradicating characters ever made (and needs to appear on a movie screen NOW!). Koontz is still the master of all he, two bandits who take delight in you, I, and his dogs survey! galloping through the city streets of Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Wilmington, taking shots at redcoats Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ and civilians alike. But no sooner has he begun than the child of a wealthy A FOUNTAIN FILLED WITH BLOOD woman is kidnapped and Michael By Julia Spencer-Fleming must turn his attention toward Reverend Clare Fergusson lives in the small town of Miller’s Kill. Generally, it is a safe, solving the riddle of who is behind quiet place to live, but when the town’s medical examiner is beaten and then there is another the abduction and rescue the child assault, Clare is ready to warn people. The one thing seeming to tie the two crimes together is before it’s too late. Assisting Michael both men are gay. again is Nick Frye, a young man with It is the height of tourist season and Police Chief Russ Van Alstyne would rather keep the surprising skills and a murky past. investigation quiet than call attention to the crimes and risk copycats. Then, a gay real estate How, Michael wonders, did developer is murdered and the investigation heats up. Was the developer murdered because he was gay? Or the kidnappers learn the route of was it because someone wants to stop the project he was working on? The murder seems to be related to the the family’s carriage? Was this an other two ‘hate crimes,’ but is it really? inside job? Complicating matters for Clare and Russ work together to solve these crimes, trying to answer all the questions. They both fight Michael is the identity of the child’s their mutual attraction that makes things tense. Clare’s clerical vows and the fact that Russ is married halt mother. Now a ranking member of them, but that doesn’t lessen the attraction. the landed gentry, she dallied with The author does a good job with her characters, showing the tension and pull between them while Michael a decade before when he keeping them just far enough apart. She also does a great job with the mystery keeping you guessing! was but a falconer’s boy. Reviewed by Ashley Dawn, author of “Shadows of Pain” published by Suspense Publishing an imprint of Over the course of several Suspense Magazine ■ novels, Suzanne Adair has fashioned a cast of characters, sometimes CORRUPT PRACTICES serving as principle characters, other By Robert Rotstein times on the periphery, all occupying There are legal thrillers galore, but not since Grisham’s ‘magic’ with “The Firm” has a the same period and locale and novel been this fast-paced, offering thrills and twists and plot changes galore. with frequent intersections. In Parker Stern (who will definitely become a familiar name to readers everywhere), is a this instance not only do we have lawyer with a mentor and friend by the name of Harmon Cherry—a beloved man who ends Kate Duncan, the beguiling owner up committing suicide. After this horror occurs, Parker begins to experience some unlikely of White’s Tavern but also Helen characteristics in the courtroom. In fact, this once strong lawyer all of a sudden becomes Chiswell, the heroine of Adair’s panicky when he has to face a judge and finds himself unable to work. “Camp Follower.” And of course, His life changes, to say the least, and Parker ends up spending most of his time at the coffee house that no novel by Ms. Adair would be was owned by a former partner. But he can’t hide out for long. Soon Parker is contacted by another former complete without an appearance law colleague, Rich Baxter, who is languishing in a jail cell after being charged with embezzlement. Rich by the urbane and evil Lt. Dunstan pleads with Parker to represent him because he is completely innocent of the charges. Fairfax. Rich has been accused of stealing millions from a church cult that he once joined, and that Parker hates. Suzanne Adair’s novels bring to When the two men meet, however, Rich also lets Parker in on a little secret—Harmon Cherry did not take life the everyday world of eighteenth his own life, he was killed by someone connected with the church. This is more than unbelievable to Parker, century Wilmington and its people until Rich is found dead inside his jail cell. during a turbulent period in our From then on, Parker’s lawyerly traits come back full force and he agrees to represent Rich Baxter’s nation’s history, accomplishing father in a suit brought by the evil church. He fights to discover what actually happened to his friends and a skillful merger of history and why, and works to solve everything while overcoming his own odd fear. suspense. This is a one-day read for fans of mystery and legal thrillers, and any loss of sleep is definitely worth it. Reviewed by Andrew MacRae, We’re talking pure adrenaline! author of “Murder Misdirected” for Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense Magazine ■ Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 31 ANONYMOUS CEMETERY LAKE SOURCES By Paul Cleave By Mary Louise Kelly Standing in a cold, wet cemetery in Christchurch, P.I. Theodore Tate is beyond bored. He stands there as the digger exhumes the casket of a man who may or may not have been the victim of murder. Information has arrived from a two-year old case that may just prove that putting the The tragic corpse to bed, so to speak, and ruling it a natural death might have been Tate’s big mistake when death of a he was a policeman. promising student Unfortunately, what Tate finds is something far worse. The man is not there; instead, the at Harvard pulls casket holds the recently deceased body of a young woman. Tate hasn’t seen the worst of it. When he stands Alexandra “Alex” staring out at the cold landscape, he spots a black bubble emerging from the lake. One after another, the eerie James from her water begins to regurgitate bodies. regular reporter’s A whole new journey ensues as Tate takes on the role of a cop, feeling extremely guilty that his mistake beat and drops her Manolo- may have allowed a serial killer to roam. The whole town becomes a terrifying place to be, as people believe clad feet first into international that the cemetery may be the resting place for many corpses struck down by a homicidal maniac. The only one intrigue. NPR host and new he can turn to for help is the local Reverend when Tate is framed for the killings by both his ex-friends as well author, Mary Louise Kelly has as the media. written an exciting novel that The story takes an even darker turn when Tate discovers a secret tape recorder buried in a confessional. draws on her years of experience As his ex-cop’s instincts take over, he works hard to stop the hideous carver before a fifth girl meets her doom. as a globetrotting reporter. The myriad of characters presented in this novel is amazing, and each and every one has their own little Alex has created a creepy side that’s perfectly written by an author who truly wants readers to be able to feel the chill in that comfortable nest over the past cemetery. Theodore Tate is a great lead; he has more problems than solutions, and the reader will root for his seven years as she tries to rebuild emotional need to serve and protect! her life after a very private tragedy. Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense Reporting on the academic world Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ shields her from the tumult and drama of the world outside the THE ASSASSINS CLUB ivy-covered towers of Boston’s By Dixon Rice universities. Tyler Goode was just bartending, minding his own business in the flatlands of Montana. He served But it is from one of those beer, broke up the occasional brawl, and attended classes at the local community college. He was ruggedly towers that Thom Carlyle has handsome and popular with the local ladies, so when he was attacked after hours by a brute of a man who Tyler fallen to his death and what ought had thrown out of the bar the night before, Tyler was ill-prepared for what came next. to have been a simple human Acting in self-defense and in a fight for his life, Tyler got in a lucky blow. With the man lying dead at his interest story quickly unfolds into feet, Tyler realized that it actually felt great to have ridden the earth of this scourge of wickedness and was a complex tapestry of deception surprised at the good feelings this adrenaline rush provided. and death. Thom had returned Reading in the news about several criminal types who for one reason or another have gotten away with from a year’s study at Cambridge their crimes, Tyler decides to help them see the light and regenerate the rush he gets from killing. The police University only the day before his become aware of these vigilante-style killings and Tyler is always one step ahead of them until one fateful night death. Perhaps, thinks Alex, the when they come knocking at his door; however, when they tell him they know he’s doing it, but have no proof answer lies there. and want in on the action, the assassins club is born. With the permission of Rice, simultaneously, has a secondary story woven into the plot and it becomes apparent that eventually Hyde Rawlins, her very old- the two will become at cross purposes with each other. A ‘Jesus–pretender’ has gathered a crowd of followers school editor, Alex travels from and is literally dragging a cross across country, leaving a trail of death and destruction behind him, Manson- Harvard to England where the style. Just what his link is to his final destination, and to Tyler, is the mystery to be solved. mystery only deepens. Why was Rice has a written a cleverly compelling story that pulls the reader in knowing that final encounter will lead another student searching Thom’s to the ultimate clash of good v. evil. quarters? Where is that student Reviewed by Mark P. Sadler, author of “Blood on his Hands” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of now? And what is she to make Suspense Magazine ■ of Lucien Sly, a titled reprobate who is so awfully clever and CURSE OF THE PTA DEATH OF THE DEMON By Laura Alden By Anne Holt handsome—perhaps too much I realized after finishing this book, I don’t read enough so for her own good. American readers will love the Hanne cozies. I forget how delightful and entertaining they are. Wilhelmsen series of mystery novels written by “Anonymous Sources” “Curse of the PTA” is definitely one of those. rings true with a verisimilitude Anne Holt. Beth Kennedy is a bookstore owner, mom, President In “Death of the Demon,” Detective Hanne that comes from a writer who of the PTA, and police consultant. Police consultant, you has been there and done that Wilhelmsen is promoted to chief inspector. Her ask? Sounds rather odd for someone who seems to be a homicide team investigates the stabbing murder as Kelly’s resume attests. Her wholesome, small town woman. True, but apparently Beth reporter heroine chases the story has a habit of coming across dead bodies and has an ability of the director of a foster home for difficult from lofty bell towers at Harvard, to find out some of the most inane information that to children and the disappearance of a frightening to taking tea at Claridge’s; from most, would seem like nothing, but ends up leading her to young resident. Morbidly obese Olav is only the busy newsroom of a major suspects. Some right, some…not-so-right. twelve, but has the sinister eyes of a demon. newspaper to the ultra secure Dennis Halpern is a financial consultant and Beth He is discovered missing the same night as the Situation Room deep beneath the has him at a PTA meeting to discuss possible choices of murder. At first, no one except Olav seems to White House. But as sometimes investing the PTA’s money. But before he gets too much of a have a motive. As Hanne’s team digs deeper, they happens, the pursuer becomes chance to actually say a few words, he’s shot and killed. How discover several people who committed crimes the hunted and it isn’t long before bad is this PTA anyway? that might be covered up by the murder. Alex finds herself running for her Alden’s story is enjoyable and I love the wit she throws The numerous twists and turns in “Death of life. in. Definitely recommended. Make it your next book you the Demon” will keep readers guessing until the bring to the beach this summer. surprising ending that no one will see coming. Andrew MacRae, author of Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Other “Murder Misdirected” for Reviewed by S.L. Menear, award-winning author Side: Melinda’s Story” published by Suspense Publishing, of “Deadstick Dawn” for Suspense Magazine ■ Suspense Magazine ■ an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 32 SUCKERPUNCH ONION STREET By Jeremy Brown By Reed Farrel Coleman Aaron “Woodshed” Wallace is a heavyweight mixed martial arts fighter who is looking for his big break, and whether you are a heavyweight fighter or a ballerina, the opportunity for In this eighth the elusive “big break” will lead you to take chances. Woodshed, known as Woody, agrees to a mystery featuring fight with only two days notice that could be his opportunity to move up to the big time, but former Brooklyn by the time he realizes that the organizers who offered him the big break are just using him for policeman and their own game, it is too late. present-day PI, Moe “Suckerpunch” by Jeremy Brown is a wild ride through a rough sport. The author’s terse style and Prager, the author unrelenting pace keep the reader in the ring, waiting for the next punch. His sentences pack a “one, two” takes the reader by the punch of their own that create a relentless rhythm. His ability to draw the reader into the not so gentle world of mixed martial arts is clear evidence of both his skill as a writer and his own training in several types of hand and goes back in martial arts. He even manages to include some romance, as Marcela, the cousin of Brazilian fighter Edson, time. gets involved in the behind the scenes action, and she and Woody become more and more attracted to each Attending a funeral held in other. 2012, Moe starts to reminisce about The world that is depicted in “Suckerpunch” is a violent one, both in and out of the ring. And it is clearly the history that he shared with the early on in the story that the most violent confrontations take place on the streets and back alleys of Las dead man, Bobby Friedman. The Vegas, where the big fight happens. Once you are in this world, you must keep turning the pages until the remembrances date back to the year dramatic conclusion. 1967 when Moe was in college and Reviewed by Kathleen Heady, author of “Lydia’s Story” for Suspense Magazine ■ his girlfriend, Mindy, was attacked on the street and beaten into a coma. LOYALTY When Moe’s good friend Bobby By Ingrid Thoft also loses his girlfriend—Samantha With this debut author’s first novel, she has definitely followed in the footsteps of the Hope—in a car explosion on Coney great female writers with their determined female detectives, and readers are going to have a Island, things get even more insane. ball. Introducing…Fina Ludlow. The story takes place in the “Cradle of Liberty” and there are some parts of Boston that The explosion ends the life of should never be entered into without having a lion on a leash by their side. However, the one other person, Martin Levitz, Ludlow family loves Boston and has made a name for themselves by being top-notch lawyers, who is a student at Brooklyn College except for one. Fina didn’t want to be a lawyer, so she chose to work for her family as a private investigator, with Samantha. The key factor and is very good at her job. suddenly becomes the fact that In this tale, Fina’s sister-in-law has disappeared, and Carl Ludlow (Fina’s father), wants her to solve the both he and Sam were well-known case without having to deal with any police interference. As Fina begins to look into the case, however, she radicals with the antiwar movement comes across a bevy of secrets, lies, and betrayals that are at the core of her dysfunctional family. But as she on campus. digs even deeper, she discovers some seriously dangerous links between the Ludlows and Boston’s more The theory put out by the ‘criminal’ element. These links run from a local mobster to a local madam, and as the story progresses, Fina authorities is that a bomb went off reaches out to her loyal friend, Detective Christian Menendez, and her masseur, Milloy, to help her figure too soon; a bomb that was meant to out who or what caused her sister-in-law’s disappearance. blow up a draft board office. This is This novel is beyond gripping, and describing the characters as well written or fascinating simply one theory, but Bobby and Moe are doesn’t cut it. This is one of those books that a reviewer reads and wants nothing more than to offer up all sure that something else is going on the twists and turns, because they are absolutely delectable. However, not wanting to spoil anything, the and that the police simply don’t care review will stop here. All that can be said is that it’s a true blessing to have Fina Ludlow join the team of enough to investigate. Soon after the fun, intricate, and spellbinding female detectives in the literary world. Readers will welcome her with open explosion, Moe is able to save Bobby arms! from getting hit by a speeding car, Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by and he begins to delve deeper into Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ the case through the misinformation SILKEN PREY and lies in order to get to the truth. By John Sandford With this prequel, the author It’s blackmail, murder, corruption, scandal, and political shenanigans in the great state of is catching readers up with what Minnesota. That’s right. Sandford has a new Prey novel featuring Lucas Davenport. This one happened to Moe early on, and all covers it all and features the return of some favorite characters from previous novels. the factors that turned Moe to a Porter Smalls. Minnesota Democrat re-running for the U.S. Senate. When a child life of crime fighting. This book is pornography scandal breaks against him, the governor calls in Lucas Davenport, agent for the a fascinating read that could easily Minnesota Bureau of Crime Apprehension, to investigate. Smalls’s opponent, Taryn Grant, be finished in one-day considering one of the multi-millionaire success stories, is a narcissist who has stepped into the muddy political waters... the fast-pace and riveting scenes. If and found them a bit too deep. In desperate straits because she played a hand that came back to squeeze her, you haven’t read the other books, she’s now using what powers and connections she has to outwit everybody...including her own staff. The this one will immediately have you problem runs deeper because there may be a Minneapolis police connection to the controversy. The web running out to get the others. grows more intricate and while one side tries to untangle it, another is trying to destroy strands which may A dyed-in-the-wool mystery prove damaging. And the election is looming. My dad read and recommended “Rules of Prey” many years ago and from that first book, I was hooked. reader will eat this up and will smile, I’ve enjoyed Lucas Davenport from his time in the police department to the scandals and politics of the knowing that there is far more to BCA. Sure, you know who the bad guys are from the beginning, but it’s how Davenport extracts the clues come from Moe Prager! through determination and gut instinct that make the Prey mysteries worthwhile. And after all these years, Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author the characters are just as exciting and fresh. I also was thrilled to see the return of Kidd the computer whiz. of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Even Virgil Flowers, who has his own series, gets involved. “Silken Prey” is slick and I long to read Sandford’s Lowery Book Two” published by next book. Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Reviewed by Stephen Brayton, author of “Beta” for Suspense Magazine ■ Suspense Magazine ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 33 AUNT DIMITY AND NO WAY BACK THE LOST PRINCE By Matthew Klein By Nancy Atherton You know those theme-park rides that hurl you up and around at breakneck speed until you don’t know which way is up or down, and all you can do is hang on, enjoy the ride, and pray that Nancy Atherton has created in the end you keep your lunch? a marvelous confection with Reading “No Way Back” by Matthew Klein evokes a similar feel. Where most books hint her eighteenth entry in the Aunt at an ending, Klein manages to deceive the reader until the big reveal. You won’t know who to Dimity series. Like the Russian trust or what is going on. It is a superb pleasure to turn each page, ‘guessing’, in this very smart Tea Cakes that are a part of the mind-bender. mystery (the recipe for which is Jimmy Thane is flawed. He is an alcoholic, a drug addict, and has problems remaining loyal to his wife. included in the book), the story Despite these barriers to success, he has managed to land himself a job as CEO to a technology start-up that almost melts in your mouth, seems strife with problems. The former CEO disappeared and Thane has seven weeks to turn it around in any is pleasantly sweetened with a way he can. Pretty standard procedure until he discovers an embezzlement of millions. covering of powdered sugar, and Not only that, the company appears to have a faulty product, staff with dubious, unprofessional behavior is filled with plenty of delicious and the police keep turning up to question him. The neighbor is spying on him and his wife is not her usual self, nuts, otherwise known as some of which he can put down to the years-prior accidental drowning of his son. On some occasions, though, characters. she seems to be terrified of him. It’s February in the West Jimmy begins to realize that nothing is what it seems and that his life is in danger. Are the company Midlands, and Lori Shepherd’s investors simply businessmen or do they have an ulterior motive? Is he paranoid or does everyone know a husband Bill is away on a secret and he’s the only one clueless? When you discover the answers, they will haunt you for days after. business trip to Majorca. A cold Matthew Klein writes a brilliant corporate thriller reminiscent of the 1997 film, The Game. It is a ride and snap causes Lori’s sons Will a half and, after this trip, Matthew Klein is now on my list of authors who are worth every penny of the entry and Rob to be stuck inside with price. a bad case of cabin fever, but Reviewed by Susan May http://anadventureinreading.blogspot.com.au/ for Suspense Magazine ■ they’re all rescued from terminal boredom when Bree Pym comes BLACK CHERRY BLUES to stay. In an earlier book, Lori By James Lee Burke had helped the young Kiwi out Ever the fan of a good detective novel, I wasn’t disappointed when I picked up Burke’s of a bad situation at the behest “Black Cherry Blues.” Released in 1989 and the winner of an Edgar Allen award, the book has all of Bree’s great-grandaunts and the earmarks of a mystery we’ve come to expect. Lyrical and bold, Burke’s writing evokes images with assistance from the ghost of of the south from the past, a different era brought to life with subject matter and the use of words Lori’s Aunt Dimity. Bree suggests that in this day are taboo, and quite frankly, it’s refreshing in that Burke makes no apologies. they all take a trip to a nearby Burke’s larger than life protagonist, Dave Robicheaux, appears in no less than twenty books country house that’s been turned in the Robicheaux series. The ex-cop is damaged by a tragic past and determined to grasp on to into a museum. While Bree and a life without interference from others, especially the law. Additional characters such as Cletus (Clete) Purcel, the boys explore more macabre and Dixie Lee Pugh are developed with traits and flaws that both endear and repulse the reader. displays, Lori discovers a room Alcoholism and drug use and criminal activities factor prominently within the plot, which seem to be the filled with beautiful silver pieces, rule in southern crime novels. However, that fact in no way makes the book a stale read. There are moments of including a saltcellar designed blatant violence that would give the squeamish pause, but is necessary in setting the tone of the book. like a Russian nobleman’s sleigh. “Black Cherry Blues” involves the murder of two lease men in Montana brought to Robicheaux’s attention There Lori meets Daisy by his old acquaintance Dixie Lee Pugh, a down on his luck, alcoholic has-been from the music scene. Not Pickering, a precocious nine- wanting to be involved, Robicheaux sends Pugh packing. But a threat against his family has him retaliating year-old who spins a story about against the men responsible for ending up on the wrong side of the law, and on the run hell-bent to find the a captive Russian prince. Later, killers, seek retaliation, and clear his name. In the process of the case Robicheaux pits himself against a crime Daisy’s winter coat turns up at family replete with hit-men looking to silence him. the charity shop Lori runs, with Final thought: The book is a swift read that is entertaining and one that I recommend detective mystery the silver saltcellar in its pocket. fans to pick up and read. When Lori and Bree look for Reviewed by Jodi Chapters (Chaptersandchats.com) for Suspense Magazine ■ Daisy, they find she and her mother have disappeared. THE EXECUTION OF NOA P. SINGLETON Lori suspects that there may By Elizabeth L. Silver be truth in Daisy’s story, so she Books are adventurous, suspenseful, romantic, but it’s still rare to come across one that is and Bree set about finding the actually fascinating, giving readers an in-depth look at how life can change in a millisecond. lost Russian prince. It’s a journey At only twenty-five-years-old, Noa P. Singleton was sentenced to death and placed on Death that leads them to surprising Row for the murder of Sarah Dixon. Unlike most people, Noa has never spoken a word in her discoveries and tangled secrets own defense before, during, or after her trial, which is most likely the reason it ended in a ‘guilty hidden behind the walls of stately of first-degree murder’ verdict. Sitting on the Row now for ten years, Noa’s execution is coming English manor houses. With Aunt closer; in only six months she will bid farewell to the world. Dimity’s wise guidance, Lori Out of the blue, Marlene Dixon appears to visit Noa. She is the mother of the victim, yet she’s intending to uncovers a story with its roots in start an appeal for clemency to be granted. Ms. Dixon is a lawyer and announces that she has changed her mind the Russian Revolution. about the death penalty and tells Noa she’s going to do everything within her power, which is considerable, to Atherton’s prose and try and convince the Governor to alter Noa’s sentence from death to life-in-prison. The only ‘catch’ is that she characters sparkle like finely wants Noa to reveal why she committed the crime in the first place. But did she commit the crime or is Noa polished silver. While the mystery simply a woman who is stuck waiting for a ‘House of Cards’ to fall apart? is compelling in itself, you’ll find A definite page-turner, this book starts slow and haunting before building up to a climax that will have all you can’t help but smile with readers telling the rest of their family to ‘go fend for themselves.’ It is also a breath of fresh air to read about two delight as you read this wonderful such strong female characters. Knowing that this is a debut author, it will be thrilling to see the next ‘gift’ she book. gives to the rest of us. Reviewed by David Ingram for Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Suspense Suspense Magazine ■ Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 34 MUSIC OF GHOSTS SOVEREIGN By Sallie Bissell By Ted Dekker & Tosca Lee There’s a cabin located deep in the Appalachian woods that’s referred to by locals as the Fiddlesticks Cabin. It was here, in 1958, that a man by the name of Robert Smith came home Tomorrow the one night and found his wife having fun with another man. Slashing both, it was said that world will change. Smith, who was a fiddler by trade, sat and fiddled while he watched the blood drain from his Genetic study will victims. ultimately release a A group of young people decide to head up to the cabin in order to perhaps spot the virus that will strip entity and get it on camera. During the night one of the girls hears a fiddle playing in the woods and goes out all emotions from to investigate…alone. She, of course, ends up mutilated with odd symbols slashed in her skin. humans. Every Jerry, the local deputy, is a nice man who still shivers when he thinks about his own high school one except fear. experience at the cabin. Jerry’s mom informs him that Robert Smith died in the gas chamber long ago; Hundreds of years from now a therefore, the bloody crime that has now been committed could have nothing to do with the old fiddling special individual will come along slasher. who will try to change humans Unfortunately for Jerry, the girl who gets butchered is the daughter of a former N.C. governor who truly back. From him, dark forces will loved this neck of the woods and even fought to get them everything when he was in office. Now the ex-gov is more than mad and heads up to the county to find the scum who’s taken his daughter’s life. arise and humanity will be split into Mary Crow returns as the entertaining attorney when a man running the Raptor Center in town, Nick factions. Sovereigns, who continue Stratton, is accused of the crime. But Mary is also dealing with problems in her own life that are causing to practice the teachings of their issues in her marriage. savior. Immortals, who rejected The characters that appear from those dark Appalachian woods are truly creepy, so readers will definitely the teachings and became mighty find themselves engrossed in the tale. Although the ‘college kids in a haunted cabin’ is an old concept, this warriors. Dark Bloods, who form an great author definitely shines a new light on the subject. army led by a maniacal leader who Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by wishes to destroy any opposition. Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ When the story picks up, a Sovereign alchemist has developed THE GIRL WHO MARRIED AN EAGLE a virus to kill the Immortals and By Tamar Myers the Dark Bloods, but which may This is a delightful book, a chance for a glimpse into the Belgian Congo, when it was still leave the Sovereign as Corpses, the called that. The cover says this book is a mystery, although it’s a mystery to me why that label mass of humanity still left almost is there. Be sure and read the Acknowledgments before diving in. There’s a family story that emotionless. Jordin, one of the gives background. Next is the Preface, which puts the reader deep inside the Bashilele tribe few remaining Sovereigns, thinks and introduces us to Buakane, a member of the tribe. there is another way: by killing the The story starts in 1959, a year before the country gained independence from Belgium leaders of both the Immortals and and became the Democratic Republic of the Congo, as it’s known today. Buakane’s beauty is her burden; the Dark Bloods. She sets off with it has attracted the attention of Chief Eagle. The chief, not a young man by the tribe’s standards, is on the an unwanted companion on what lookout for his twenty-third wife. When Buakane is betrothed to him, the vivid image of her future—being buried alive with him when he dies, after her arms and legs are broken—prompts her to take rash action. could be a suicidal journey. Rom, Chapter One takes us to Oxford, Ohio, where the young, impressionable, idealistic Julia Newton is the leader of the Sovereigns wishes bewitched by a traveling missionary who convinces her that her college degree can be used for the Lord’s to appeal to the Dark Blood Queen, work in the Belgian Congo. Even though the tribe is made up of former headhunters, who practice both Feyn. Both Rom and Jordin race polygamy and polyandry, and the school consists of young brides who have run away from their older against time and impending death, husbands, and conditions in the mission are primitive, Julia decides, on the spot, she will go to Africa. prepared to make the ultimate The American who greets her and takes her to the mission, Hank, is so good-looking he threatens her sacrifice-giving up their existence Christian goals. She tries to ignore her attraction and get on with the business of saving souls. as Sovereigns. The history is woven into the storylines unobtrusively as Julia regrets her decision many times after Intricate and well thought she arrives. But adventures with the other missionaries, the living conditions, and the tribe, and those of out are Dekker’s tales. “Sovereign” Buakane, make for a great read. is heavily laced with religious Reviewed by Kaye George, author of “Eine Kleine Murder” for Suspense Magazine ■ parallels, but they only added extra life and depth to this book. I could PROPHET OF BONES mention there is plenty of action By Ted Kosmatka and interesting characters, but that Paul Carlsson, a DNA researcher, takes the lead in this interesting thriller. His intellect is would be an understatement. There beyond amazing when it comes to the world of science, and when he’s called to an archeological is so much more here, material and dig in Indonesia a strange mystery begins. A collection of bones has turned up; the bones may belong to an entirely new species that ideas and concepts that made me could change the long-held beliefs when it comes to the evolution of man. A dig is financed think as well as enjoy the book. and Paul becomes absorbed in his work. Soon, he begins to get that odd feeling that danger is This is the first in a series, so be in the air, as he comes closer and closer to an answer that will make absolutely no one happy. Just when Paul sure you take the time to delve into believes he has the information correct, the dig is suddenly shut down by paramilitaries and Paul is sent back “Sovereign.” It’s a different sword home. Unable to let go of the puzzle he unearthed, the killing begins and a dangerous game unfolds. and fantasy novel, unlike anything The eccentric billionaire, Martial Johansson, who financed the dig, has some ties to Paul’s past. Living out there. Which is good, because I in an isolated location, Martial is the mastermind behind some very unsettling experiments—experiments didn’t want to read another rehash that will put Paul and Martial on a collision course that will come to no good. of swords and magic. Dekker and The characters are truly memorable in this story. The good guy is too good sometimes and you want to Lee definitely set the bar a bit help him be a little tougher; while the bad guy is beyond bad, yet you can’t help but like him. It may just be higher with “Sovereign.” wishful thinking, but hopefully these two men will one day come together again for another blockbuster. Reviewed by Stephen Brayton, Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by author of “Beta” for Suspense Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ Magazine ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 35 THE DOLL DEATH CANYON By Taylor Stevens By David Riley Bertsch Thriller readers are always on the lookout for a new character to get to know, and Jake This New York Trent is definitely a good bet. This is the first in a debut thriller series that will have millions Times Bestselling jumping on board to stand beside Jake as he heads through many a crime. author is back…with Jake was a prosecutor back east and now lives in Jackson, Wyoming. Working as a fishing a truly spellbinding guide, Jake loves his new life, but what he doesn’t know is if fate is plotting against him. The story. relaxing days for the angler turn sour, as killings begin taking place around Jackson Hole. Vanessa Michael Although Jake changed careers, his dedication and diligence as an officer of the court comes back Monroe was born into when three deaths occur in one day. First, a skier gets caught in an avalanche—simple nature, right? Then, a life that shouldn’t a couple of French-speaking tourists are discovered mutilated on a trail located in Grand Teton National have happened to anyone. The child Park—perhaps a crazed bear? That’s the general assumption until Jake finds another dead body, a tourist of parents who were missionaries in fisherman on the Snake River. To top it all off, a series of small quakes as well as a heated disagreement between a group of environmentalists and some land developers, have upset this small tourist town and Africa, Vanessa was kidnapped by made the natives restless. gunrunners and tortured when she When the true explanations for the three deaths come to light, evidence is found to blame Jake for the was very young. The good thing was killings and he wonders why anyone would want to frame him. Jake has to investigate to save his reputation. that she grew up with the strength Teaming with Park Ranger, Noelle Klimpton, Jake works day and night in order to get to the bottom of these to live on despite everything that killings because he will have to return in the next tale to claim his spot as the ‘go-to’ investigator in Jackson. happened to her, and promised A true thrill ride, readers will definitely look forward to the next book in this series. From this first tale, herself that she would do whatever it it looks like Jake Trent will be the next in line for suspense/thriller readers to adore! took to stay alive. Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Having that solid soul has Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ worked well for her, and after growing up and getting past the darkness, THE NAMES OF OUR TEARS she has been transported across By P.L. Gaus the world working for corporations Much credit should be given to this author for the immense amount of research he does and private clients who can use her in order to present an Amish-Country Mystery. For the scene of the crime, it is very clear that brand of strength. Sadly, however, the author studied locations in Holmes County, Ohio to find that perfect spot readers will never forget. Add to that the fact he presents the Amish ways in a realistic fashion all readers this never-say-die attitude and all her can understand, and you have a writer who most assuredly ‘knows’ his subject. talents have caused Vanessa to build Ruth Zook, a young Amish girl, has returned to her home in Ohio after spending some up a list of enemies. time working as a waitress in an Amish village located in Florida. Unfortunately, she should have stayed in One day, on the streets of Dallas, the Sunshine State… Vanessa finds herself kidnapped again One Sunday morning the girl’s body is found by a neighbor and the hunt for her killer begins. and pushed into an underground Apparently, when Ruth returned home she was carrying an old suitcase that her family said did not belong world of human trafficking. The head to her, and when that particular bag is found destroyed in the stream near her home, the mystery becomes honcho, known as the ‘Doll Maker,’ even greater. is intent to control her every move. Police soon realize that the contents of the suitcase had been actual bricks of cocaine, and when the Vanessa’s friends are on the hunt to young girl had finally opened the bag out of curiosity and looked inside, she had immediately gotten rid of locate where she is and why she was all the horrific drugs. This one move led to her death. kidnapped, but Vanessa is about to But when another Amish girl comes to the police station and says that she was also asked to carry a find out. She’s told to use her skills suitcase from Florida to Ohio, the police watch a truly odd drug ring come to light. Their investigation soon to deliver a young woman into the goes south, as in Florida, where many people appear to be in dire danger from a group that’s determined to same fate she once had to endure succeed. herself. If she doesn’t, the person The action never stops in this mystery, and keeps the reader extremely busy trying to figure out ‘who’s she cares for above everything else who.’ Enjoy! will be tortured and killed. Cut off Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by from all help, Vanessa searches for Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ solutions so that she can stop a very SWEET TEA REVENGE determined man who seems to be By Laura Childs holding the winning hand. Theodosia Browning is much more comfortable serving customers in the Indigo Tea Let’s just say readers have finally Shop, her Charleston, South Carolina restaurant, than being in a fancy wedding. But when found a ‘Bond girl’ that is actually one of her dear friends, Delaine Dish, asks Theodosia to be her bridesmaid, Theo agrees. Bond, himself. Vanessa is a heroine Reluctantly. When the big day arrives, so does a big storm. And Delaine’s sister is late for that will face the worst facets of the ceremony. But that’s nothing compared to what happens to the poor groom, Dougan humanity and will fight to the finish Granville. He’s late, period. As in dead. Of an apparent overdose of cocaine. to save a soul from following in her Delaine is devastated. And she insists that her dear dead fiancée did not use cocaine. In fact, she believes blood-soaked footsteps. Readers will he was murdered, and enlists Theodosia to prove it. find Vanessa a fabulous character As Theodosia comforts Delaine, she also needs to sort out the suspects on the groom’s side from the that will hopefully be around for suspects on the bride’s side. It appears that Dougan had more enemies than anyone ever realized. And at many moons to come! least one other intimate woman friend, since the lingerie Delaine finds hanging in the victim’s closet doesn’t Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author belong to her. of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & “Sweet Tea Revenge” is the fourteenth in the Tea Shop Mysteries by New York Times bestselling author Lowery Book Two” published by Laura Childs, and includes many of the favorite characters Childs has used in previous books. One of the Suspense Publishing, an imprint of brightest stars of the series is the city of Charleston itself. Suspense Magazine ■ For me, it was like a visit with old friends. And I’d welcome another visit very soon. Reviewed by Susan Santangelo, author of “Marriage Can Be Murder” for Suspense Magazine ■

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 36 THE BOY WHO SAID NO SWIMMING WITH By Patti Sheehy SHARKS “The Boy Who Said No” is a true-life story about Frank Mederos living in Cuba in the By Nele Neuhaus late ’50s and falling in love with his childhood sweetheart Magda. He watches his beautiful country fall apart under Fidel Castro and longs to eventually escape to the USA and freedom. This novel, A thriving country under the leadership of San Juan Batista, Cuba changes when Fidel written by a German Castro comes into power. Cuba was once rich with industry and tourism, but Castro closed author, has no the doors to outsiders. Private enterprise was not allowed. Instead, everything became the problem whatsoever property of the Cuban state and individuals lost the right to own property or businesses. Unemployment identifying with the was high and goods were scarce because of a US Embargo. The country was thrown into poverty. American public, As a young man, Frank Mederos was forced to serve in the Cuban Army. He quickly rose to the position especially because of Anti Tank Guided Missile Operator and was privy to top intelligence information. When his love, Magda the mystery is and her family left Cuba for the United States, Frank was devastated. Missing Magda, and longing for ‘homegrown’ in the U.S.A. For all those who love the freedom, Frank decided to desert from the army and escape to the United States. Because of his knowledge financial game—the twists and turns of army secrets, the Cuban Army is relentless in trying to stop him. that come with money, greed, and The book tells the harrowing story of Frank’s attempt at escape and the people around him. It’s a power—this title takes place on the riveting story that gives you a look into what life in Cuba became under Fidel Castro’s rule. It’s the story of a ‘center stage’ of greed: Wall Street. country Christopher Columbus called “The most beautiful land that human eyes had ever seen.” It is the late 90s and Alexandra I would recommend this true-life novel, and am looking forward to the author’s next effort. Sondheim, who has a great Reviewed by Jerry Zavada for Suspense Magazine ■ reputation in the field of Mergers and THE CRYPT THIEF Acquisitions, has been newly hired By Mark Pryor by the firm of Levy Management “The Crypt Thief” by Mark Pryor opens in Paris with a double murder at Père La Chaise Investments. She’s hired when the cemetery, just next to the grave of Jim Morrison. Two young people have been shot—a young previous ‘star’ of M&A is killed in an man who just happens to be the son of an influential U.S. Senator, and his companion, a young accident. woman with some tenuous connections to a terrorist organization. But tenuous connections Alex is extremely intelligent are just enough to bring the attention of law enforcement to her background, rather than and upsets some of the men who investigating the circumstances of the murder. have been working at LMI for years. While authorities treat the double murder as a high profile terrorist case, the American They’ve become jealous of the fact Embassy’s head of security, Hugo Marston, works quietly with the French police to pursue that a mere woman can command another angle. It soon becomes clear that Marston was correct all along, as bones from a long-dead dancer so much attention, and because she at the Moulin Rouge are stolen, and more murders occur, with mutilations that are frighteningly similar to is so learned, she can name her own the first killing. price. To make matters worse, the killer seems to follow a pattern. He works under cover of darkness, Unfortunately, all that glitters is not gold, and she soon finds returning night after night, relying on the darkness of the new moon to hide his nefarious activities. But just herself running up against some very when Marston and his friend and associate in the French police think they have him, he simply disappears. unsavory characters. One is a major Author Pryor uses this truly creepy scenario to create a nail-biter of a novel. It has enough bizarre twists power player—a so-called silent to keep you reading into the night. The setting in the famous Paris cemetery gives the story just enough of partner in LMI who is also the head a sense of the exotic to pull the reader in, and to anticipate something far different from a run of the mill of a drug cartel. mystery. “The Crypt Thief” leads us on the trail of a cold-blooded killer to a truly fiery conclusion. Sergio Vitali, said to be a shark Reviewed by Kathleen Heady, author of “Lydia’s Story” for Suspense Magazine ■ in the real estate realm, takes Alex THE LOST under his wing, keeping his other By Vicki Petterson business in the shadows. Sadly, dead ‘Shooting me up’ to a point where I don’t think I can be any ‘higher’ only to be brought to bodies start piling up and Alex soon greater heights then plummeted back to earth at the end of the book—that’s how I felt when realizes she is in over her head and I closed “The Lost.” You’ll understand my euphemisms with ‘shooting me up’ and ‘higher’ as tries to get away from Vitali. As Alex you read on. does her best to gain freedom, her Griffin Shaw was murdered fifty years ago and is now a Centurion who graces the living job and her reputation slowly turn again with one major agenda—to find out who killed him and his wife, Evie. Well, two agendas. to dust right before her eyes, and the only thing left is to find a way to save The other beingwhy . Along the way, he rescues and falls in love with Katherine (Kit) Craig, a reporter. her own life before it’s too late. While Grif investigates his own murder, loves Kit, and saves the dying from becoming a ‘Lost,’ he and This is very different than most Kit run around the city trying to solve the murder of Jeap Yang, a drug addict who became addicted to that of the ‘Wall Street’ books that came which became his demise. Kit’s emotion was what placed she and Grif in harm’s way. Because Grif can see out after the crash. It’s much more the plasma around the dying, it was he who knew the path Kit put them and her good friend Dennis on personal and really makes the reader while trying to bring to justice the people responsible for Yang and many others’ deaths. stop and think about what really The race to find out if Kit, Grif, Dennis, and many other humans will come out of this alive was too goes on in these money factories. much to handle. I had my own duel with day-to-day demands and “The Lost” won out as I placed all else Nele (and her translator) have done on hold just to finish this novel. I was sorry to have read the last page, but only because the story was over. a fantastic job! At least this one. Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author Pettersson is one author who can glue me to the page until the very last word. Absolutely 100% of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & recommended. Ten stars. Lowery Book Two” published by Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Other Side: Melinda’s Story” published by Suspense Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ Suspense Magazine ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 37 UNTOLD YESTERDAY'S ECHO DAMAGE By Matt Coyle By Robert K. Matt Coyle has crafted a wonderful debut novel. “Yesterday’s Echo” evokes the spirit of James Lewis M. Cain’s twisty stories of characters in bad situations while also being a thoroughly modern story that drives along at a breakneck pace. Mark Mallen, Former cop Rick Cahill was branded a murderer by the press in the death of his beloved wife, the hero of this even though the police had to drop the charges for lack of evidence. Seven years later, he’s carved tale, is a former out a new life for himself as the assistant manager of a steakhouse and bar in upscale La Jolla, just San Francisco undercover north of San Diego. He carries extra baggage in the town because his father had been a La Jolla cop until he was policeman. The focus of Mark’s thrown off the force on corruption charges. Still, it’s a decent life—until Melody Malana walks into the bar. job was to infiltrate the drug Melody is a television anchor in San Francisco who tells Rick she’s in town pursuing a story. Rick is drawn market in order to keep an eye on to her, and he finds himself wondering if he might have a second chance at love. The beautiful, exotic woman, the slimy cesspool of members though, has a number of old ties to the community herself, one of them an ex-husband who turns up dead. who made up the industry. Rick is pulled into a spider web of entanglements that include a mob-connected former casino owner, a However, Mark became so good candidate for the governorship of California, a crooked cop, and Melody herself, who may not be telling him at blending in with the local the truth. The past is dredged up, and soon Rick finds himself back on the front page, and the target of a police users and pushers that he was manhunt. To save himself, Rick must unravel the connections and expose the lies. Even as he loses everything taken off the force and, for the he’s worked for, Rick might have a shot at redemption, if he can stay free and stay alive. last few years, has been locked in “Yesterday’s Echo” is plotted with a sure hand, and the prose flows fast and crisp like a mountain river. It his own drug-induced haze. will captivate you so that you don’t want to put it down, and you don’t want it to end—at least not until the next All seems negative in Mark’s installment is available. life, without a hope that he will Reviewed by David Ingram for Suspense Magazine ■ ever return to his former glory. REVIVER But when a true friend of the old By Seth Patrick days, Eric Russ, is found dead An intriguing concept, “Reviver” by newcomer Seth Patrick is sure to be a hit with those who with Mark’s name in his pocket, prefer their police procedural mixed with a heavy-hand of darkness found in the best paranormal. the ex-cop turned drug addict Jonah Miller is a Reviver. It’s a relatively new advance in forensic science and entails a small finds the determination to beat team used in specific circumstances to garner additional information after someone dies—from the drugs and investigate what the deceased. In the simplest terms, the deceased is given one final opportunity to speak, though happened to his friend. this process is by no means effortless. The Cornerstone Bar, a Jonah is one of the best. Young and not yet jaded by the rigors of life—or death in Jonah’s case—he finds very cold, harsh place to hang his job rewarding. He lives to work and seek justice even at a personal cost to his own well-being. And this is not out, is the setting for Mark’s a position that just anyone can hold. turn around, as he learns how to Called to a particularly gruesome crime scene, with very little evidence, it’s imperative to the detectives on get cleaned up and convince his the case that Jonah learns more from the victim herself. He’s able to successfully revive her, but something isn’t old friends that the drug scene right. She’s afraid and they’re not alone. Someone is watching. Someone is waiting from the other side. is over for him. Finding a friend Daniel Harker, the journalist and now novelist, who broke the original story of Revivers, sits at home in a named Gato, who he meets in deep depression. He permits himself to wallow each year around the anniversary of his wife’s death. He’s nearly jail, this character does his very ready to pull himself together, as is his process before his daughter returns home from the UK, but a strange best to take care of Mark and knock on the door will forever change his course. bring him out of his funk in As Harker’s daughter, Annabel, returns to an empty house, she finds clues that lead directly to sinister order to capture the killer. possibilities and the world of Revivers. She and Jonah will risk everything to discover who’s lurking in the dark Being the first in a series, recesses and save innocents. the reader will definitely begin Crafted with layers that add depth to the characters and their fascinating situations, it’s no surprise that at the beginning, watching “Reviver” has been optioned for the big screen. It doesn’t read like a debut and I’ll be watching to see what’s next Mark Mallen’s past unfold as he for this talented newcomer. struggles with the wrong choices Reviewed by Shannon Raab for Suspense Magazine ■ he’s made in order to produce a FORTUNE FAVORS comeback. The author has done By Sean Ellis a fantastic job with research, and Nick Kismet is back! From the harrowing first page until the climactic last, Sean Ellis takes us the scenes of San Francisco and on an adrenaline filled, heart pumping ride. its drug trade are riveting. “Fortune Favors” entwines the reader in a knot of history, legend, greed, espionage, and But when it comes to the Biblical lore all wrapped up in the promise of eternal life. At stake, the infamous Fountain of Youth. end, let’s just say the reader will Until the earth shattering climax, Kismet has a hard time figuring out his allies and his be extremely anxious for the enemies. The only known in this stew of characters is that Dr. John Leeds, part historian, hypnotist, next installment to be released. and Svengali is unadulterated evil. Leeds is so slick that Nick can’t seem to figure out who or what organization As Agatha Christie’s famous he works for. Hercule Poirot once said, “Not “Fortune Favors” will take you from the opulent riches of the Mid-East to the elegance of New York City to all can be revealed.” And in Mark the swamps of the Florida panhandle as Nick tries to outrace and outwit Leeds and the mysterious organization Mallen’s case, there are far more known as Prometheus in order to try and locate the mythical Fountain of Youth. revelations to come. You will be on the edge of your seat as you rush to turn each page as the action amps up with each nail biting Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author twist and turn. of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent Sean Ellis outdoes himself with this Nick Kismet adventure and Nick does not disappoint. & Lowery Book Two” published If this is your first Nick Kismet adventure, you will rush to read the others. If you are already a fan, you will by Suspense Publishing, an fall further in love with the character and will beg the author to write the next installment. 5 star review! imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ Reviewed by J.M. LeDuc, author of “Cursed Days” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 38 UNNATURAL ACTS THE INNOCENCE By Kevin J. Anderson GAME Dan is a detective…and a Zombie. His world is filled with werewolves, ghosts, vampires, By Michael Harvey and all sorts of ‘unnatural’ creatures. Most work the night shift at dead end jobs just trying to survive while they suffer persecution. For those readers Senator Balfour is completely against unnaturals and is pushing the ‘Unnatural Acts Act.’ who are used to the A stage for Shakespeare in the Dark is destroyed. Golems complain about sweatshop work Michael Kelly series conditions. An interracial couple is being discriminated against. These are just a handful of that this author is the storylines woven into one. famous for, this new Dan is juggling his caseload and trying to solve mysteries right and left. Just when he is close to an standalone novel is answer, there is a twist that sends him another direction. a definite change of Witty characters and monsters with twisted up lives/deaths. The author does a great job of entertaining pace. throughout the book. Featuring three Reviewed by Ashley Dawn, author of “Shadows of Pain” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of students attending Medill School Suspense Magazine ■ of Journalism/Northwestern VIRUS THIRTEEN University, readers find themselves By Joshua Alan Parry engrossed with the trio of highly This thriller, which was five years in the making, smacks us with a dramatic beginning intelligent graduate students who and doesn’t let up. The story is set in a future world where cancer has been cured and most are attending a summer course there. disease eradicated. Overpopulation and pollution are the biggest human problems now. The course is more than interesting The book opens with a talented medical husband and wife team making a dramatic as it focuses on cold cases (the announcement in Austin, at the University of Texas, about a new, better way to prevent cancer. deaths of young people), that were (The old way is pretty awesome, but expensive.) However, the male half of the team, Dr. James put into filing cabinets and basically Logan, is unable to continue his speech, falling ill on the stage. He has, in fact, developed a cancerous brain forgotten about. tumor, even though his body is supposed to be cancer-proof. Ian is a very smart, very edgy I don’t want to give too much of the science away, so I’ll just tell you that, to this lay person, the medical boy who asks many questions that part is fascinating and sounds all too possible. Since the author is a medical doctor, I assume it just might really don’t make a lot of sense… be. The plot consists of these two doctors, James and his wife, Dr. Linda Nguyen, and their struggle; Pat at first. Jake graduated from the Henderson, a man being sentenced to brutal punishment for committing the crime of becoming too fat University of Chicago Law School (illegal in this health-conscious society—in fact, agents of the Department of Homeland Health come and at the top of his class, but has no take you away if you gain too much weight); the two DHH agents, Marnoy and Macdonald; and a brand desire to be a lawyer. He’s a tough new lethal virus that threatens to wipe out most of the earth’s population, something like a modern-day (or guy who throws away parking future-day) biblical Flood. tickets, fights people far bigger than Reviewed by Kaye George, author of “Eine Kleine Murder” for Suspense Magazine ■ he is, and comes across as a definite outlaw. Last, but definitely not least, THE DEATH RELIC is Sarah—extremely attractive, she By Chris Kuzneski earned an almost perfect score on Jon Payne and David Jones are back together again in this action-adventure romp by six- her LSATs. time international bestselling author Chris Kuzneski. If you have read his work before, you’ve probably met these two elite, military-trained heroes, who constantly make the reader laugh This riveting group comes with their witty banter and keep us amazed with their prowess at outwitting their enemies. together to study and investigate The two badass best friends get together this time to save a damsel in distress and who an old crime that had a victim and doesn’t like that. From Mexico City to the Yucatan Peninsula, the team is on a mission to save a killer, but the killer, according to Mayan and Aztec treasure and an artifact so powerful, it is known as The Death Relic. Jake, was absolutely innocent. As this Lies, deception, and kidnapping bad guys add to the story and compel the reader to turn the pages case expands, bodies and questions faster to keep up. Breakneck pacing and surprising revelations make this story grab the reader by the throat start piling up. There may be a secret in true Kuzneski style, while bringing together a varied and realistic cast of characters. buried in the justice system—a Perfect timing, great personalities, fluid writing, and action, action, action, bring “The Death Relic” to secret involving many innocent life and keep Chris Kuzneski at the top of the action-adventure genre. people who are being framed by an Reviewed by DJ Weaver (WebbWeaver Reviews) co-author of “Collecting Innocents” published by authoritative group in Chicago that’s Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ been getting away with murder. As the three students continue THE LIGHT KEEPER'S LEGACY to seek the truth, they soon realize By Kathleen Ernst that they’ve become targets on Chloe Ellefson’s life, both work and personal, has gotten complicated and stressful. someone’s hit list. From the calm When the opportunity to help with a project arises, she jumps at the chance to get away campus of Northwestern U. to from it all for a week and help in a lighthouse restoration project. Her expertise as a museum the mean streets of Chicago to curator is exactly what is needed for the job and the time away is exactly what she needs for the bottom of Lake Michigan, this her peace of mind. thriller has it all. The plan is for Chloe to stay in the lighthouse on Rock Island and dive into the history Michael Harvey remains a of the island. What she finds is a young woman’s dead body washed up onshore, the apparent victim of fascinating writer. Having him move an accidental drowning…or is she? Chloe has a sixth sense about things and the lighthouse’s history is away from his popular series to intriguing blended with the two amazing women who used to live there. offer this unforgettable plot is truly When a second body is found, Chloe is determined to figure out exactly what is going on, on this a ‘fresh’ thrill for fans everywhere. almost deserted island. The more she researches, the more she realizes there could be a link between the Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author history she is reading and the present she is living. The author does a delightful job of weaving two separate time periods into one great cozy mystery! of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & Lowery Book Two” published by Reviewed by Ashley Dawn, author of “Shadows of Pain” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine ■ Suspense Magazine ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 39 THE PARIS AFFAIR THE FORT By Teresa Grant By Aric Davis In everyone’s life there comes a time when you lose your innocence and step into This latest book by adulthood. However, twelve years old is too early for that to happen. Author Aric Davis crafts one of the ‘best’ when a beautiful story of intrigue and suspense with his current book “The Fort.” it comes to delivering Someone is killing women and leaving nothing for the police to go on. Three boys: Tim, thrills, is focused Luke, and Scott witness the abduction of sixteen-year-old Molly Peterson, a friend of Tim’s again on the Rannoch sister. Not only is their summer about to change but so are their lives forever. family: Malcolm, an Aric has written a lot more than a coming of age story, as it is much deeper emotionally and paced aristocratic British perfectly. “The Fort” is the perfect summer read, and should be on your reading list. diplomat, and his wife, Reviewed by John Raab for Suspense Magazine ■ Suzanne, whose family was ruined by Napoleon’s war. These two are spies THE KILLING HOUR and have many secrets they keep By Paul Cleave from the public—not to mention It just wasn’t Charlie Felman’s day. Waking from a dream in cold sweats surrounded by each other—with a back story that’s ghosts, he is relieved to know the worst is over until he discovers a large bump on his forehead extremely engaging. and blood all over his clothes; blood that does not belong to him. Finding themselves in the Seemingly on the run from Cyrus, a man who authorities are unable to locate any record middle of an investigation of a of, Charlie has a dickens of a job convincing the police, and his ex-wife Jo, that he is not losing French informant (double agent, his marbles and that the bodies that keep showing up in his wake are Cyrus’s victims not his. Count Antoine de Rivere), these Forcibly kidnapping Jo, and stuffing her in the trunk of the car probably is not the easiest way to show his innocence. However, it is the only way he knows how to keep her safe. spies uncover even more secrets that Inspector Landry has nothing to lose. His body racked with cancer, he only has a short time left on are at the core of their own family. this earth. He doesn’t believe Charlie’s innocence and drags him into the woods meaning to take care of Going into a lower-class bar him vigilante-style. Not until Cyrus shows up, also trying to dispatch Charlie, does Landry realize the error located in a part of the city that they he made and the focus switches to helping each other escape from the claws of the madman in order that don’t frequent, the spies try to get the Christchurch’s latest serial killer can be bought to justice. double agent away from danger and This is a recent U.S. release of Cleave’s first novel and although it does not involve his trusty and true into a safe house. But while in the detective Theo Tate, it does involve the Christchurch police force and so again, Cleave has managed to link bar, the Count hints to Malcolm that together his collection of works into a malleable group of thrill-a-minute novels that are not to be missed. Malcolm’s murdered sister, Princess Reviewed by Mark P. Sadler, author of “Blood on his Hands” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint Tatiana Kirsanova, might just be the of Suspense Magazine ■ mother of a child the family never knew about. THE DARK BEFORE DAWN Demanding safe passage out By Laurie Stevens of the country to a safe destination, Gabriel McRay is a good cop, but when you have anger issues sometimes that is not the informant threatens Malcolm. enough to keep you on the job. After several incidents had been made public in the local Unfortunately before he can win newspaper, McRay had to seek the assistance of a psychologist and even then his superiors the argument, a fight breaks out and where ready to suspend him, until the serial killer they were tracking suddenly linked the causes the Count’s demise. reasons for the murders to an alleged past history between McRay and himself. Back at the British Embassy, the Like it or not, the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department is suddenly dependent upon Duke of Wellington asks Malcolm McRay looking into his past to figure out who is the killer. Unfortunately, the past is the last place McRay and Suzanne to find the truth. As wants to go and it is only with the help of Dr. Berkowitz that he is able to dredge up recollections and visit they begin looking for answers, the the dark places he has blocked since his less than stellar childhood. The killer is striking fast and furiously using the seven chakras, a body’s energy centers, as the clue to couple finds that the Princess was his mindless bloody disfigurements and the disposal of the bodies. Not for the faint of heart, this blood- more than mysterious—the birth curdling thriller kept me up at night. With so many potential suspects, including the protagonist himself, we of a child was only a small part are left grasping at straws to the final pages to discover the final clue that brings it all home for McRay as he of her vault of secrets she’d kept is forced to confront the evil done to him as a child in order to discover the true murderer. hidden from her family. The biggest Stevens nicely weaves together a troubled mind of the protagonist, the tentative beginnings of a surprise? The child they go hunting relationship between him and the medical examiner Dr. Ming Li, and the start to a new police procedural for may just have been fathered by series. Napoleon himself. Reviewed by Mark P. Sadler, author of “Blood on his Hands” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint A true romp through Paris of Suspense Magazine ■ offering readers thrills, chills, and surprises around every dark corner, RUMOURS OF WAR this tale keeps up a fast pace. By Michael Snow Following Napoleon’s defeat at Michael Snow has written an espionage thriller that will have you biting your nails and begging for a Waterloo, the investigation into the Prozac prescription. Princess, and when and if she did I was a bit leery when I began reading “Rumours of War.” I have read quite a few novels lately that dealt have a child with the failed Emperor, with terrorism in combination with the Israel-Iran conflict and have been disappointed time and time again. makes for a great adventure. Keeping Not so with Michael Snow’s epic new book. “Rumours of War” delivered where others fell short. readers on the edge of their seats Justin Alexander owns and runs a resort in the sunny Isle of Barbados. He is content to live out his days throughout, this is one book that is in his private world with his wife and daughter. What they don’t know is that he had a past much more secret unforgettable. life. His past comes back to haunt him when his wife and daughter are kidnapped. He is told he must pilot Reviewed by Amy Lignor, author an unmarked plane from Barbados to Dakar if he ever wants to see his family again. of “The Sapphire Storm: Tallent & This is just the beginning of a taut story that will take you from Barbados to Dakar to Tel Aviv. Lowery Book Two” published by “Rumours of War” combines espionage with biological warfare and shows us just how far a man will go Suspense Publishing, an imprint of to save those he loves. Excellent read! ■ Reviewed by J.M. LeDuc, author of “Cursed Days” published by Suspense Publishing, an imprint of Suspense Magazine Suspense Magazine ■

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 40 Movies Star Trek Into Darkness 2013 Genre – Adventure/Action (PG-13)

BOLDLY GOING WHERE IT’S GONE BEFORE In forty-seven years since the launch of the original three-season series, Star Trek has sparked five television series including an animation, eleven motion pictures, and a fan base that continues to grow. I grew up a trekkie. As a child of the sixties it was one of my favorite shows. Then, oh joy, oh bliss, cameStar Trek Next Generation and all the fabulous follow-on series after and then the series of eighties and nineties movies. In my previous life, the company I owned even sponsored the eleven p.m. Thursday night series of Star Trek Voyager. It was pretty cheap to run ads at that time of night. So, this reboot was always on my must see list. The 2009 J.J. Abrams’s first Star Trek reboot film was a hoot and despite my concerns after Abrams’sLost series finale letdown, he managed to deliver a great start to the new series. Too, was the fun of watching the new younger versions step into their iconic sixties characters. That guy who plays Doc really looks like the original, doesn’t he? So, I was bouncing in my seat for Into Darkness. In this voyage we are immediately thrown into a mission going wrong when, in order to save Spock, the crew must expose their existence to the primitive inhabitants of a planet; a no, no on the prime directive. This sets up the exploration of the complex friendship between Captain James T. Kirk (Chris Pine) and his First Officer Spock (Zachary Quinto). Subsequently, Kirk is relieved of his duty and demoted to first officer on another ship and Spock (Zachary Quinto) is also reassigned. However, during a Star Fleet headquarters meeting, they are attacked by a new super nemesis, mysterious intergalactic terrorist John Harrison (Benedict Cumberbatch). Kirk is re-commissioned by Star Fleet Admiral (Peter Weller) to gather his original crew to take off in pursuit of the terrorist who has wreaked havoc and killed some of the nearest and dearest of Star Fleet. The truth they discover when they find Harrison is not what they are expecting. Returning to The Enterprise is the crew that brought it so viscerally to life in the original, Karl Urban as Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy, Simon Pegg as Chief Engineer “Scotty” Scott, Zoe Saldana as Communications Officer Uhura, John Cho as Helmsman Hikaru Sulu, Anton Yelchin as Pavel Chekov, and Bruce Greenwood as Admiral Christopher Pike. Whilst it is an enjoyable blockbuster, it didn’t beam me up as I’d hoped. Some of it felt like a bunch of scenes we have seen before mashed together; one I think taken from the 1982 Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, but with a reversal of characters. Gene Rodenberry’s (the original creator of Star Trek) vision of the future was one of optimism and hope. He created Star Trek to explore charged political topics such as racism, greed, and violence, and as an exemplar of how much is achieved when we work together for the betterment of all and not just expansion of power. He had an unusual optimism of the future considering the cold-war, nuclear fearful era in which he lived. I think it is the lack of optimism where the problem lies for me in Into Darkness. Whilst there is much to enjoy here and most trekkies and sci-fi buffs will revel in it, for me it is missing that special ingredient. Regardless, it’s still a must see because let’s face it, any Star Trek is better than no Star Trek. Are you a trekkie and what do you think of the reboot franchise? Reviewed by Susan May http://anadventureinfilm.blogspot.com.au/ for Suspense Magazine ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 41

Featured Artist

Living Her Art Sara HelweInterview by Suspense Magazine Can't Live Without You

elf-taught digital artist, photographer and designer Sara Helwe Swas born and raised in Tripoli, Lebanon, where she still resides with her family. Considering the political upheaval of her hometown—constant battles, unreliable electricity, and dangerous financial and economical turmoil—we were surprised to find Sara such a positive and inspiring woman. With little artistic direction or opportunity during her formative years, Sara discovered her passion for digital art in 2009 and in a short time, she’s garnered quite a bit of attention. Honored for her work in digital media, Sara has been featured in Photoshop Creative Magazine (issue 88) and her work can be found across the web at deviantArt, Shadowness, and Behance, among other digital-art sites. Engaged and impatiently waiting to begin her married life, we were lucky to get a few moments of her time. We hope that you’ll enjoy this taste of Sara’s work and insight into what propels her as much as we do.

Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): We were shocked to find that you’re self-taught. What drove you to learn?

Sara Helwe (S.H.): Thank you! I was amazed seeing fantasy images on the internet. I first thought they were painted until I discovered that they were photo manipulations. I started experimenting on Photoshop and practicing a few tutorials from time to time.

S. MAG. How long does it typically take to design a new piece? Can you describe your process?

S. H.: It used to take me almost two days on and off. Now it’s around six to eight hours.

I start by separating the model from the background then applying many backgrounds until I see them matching. I try adding extra elements. I fix or paint the hair. I do the dodging/burning and fix shadows and highlights. I finally adjust colors and blend

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 44 “My day-to-day life is always about art. I’m designing, taking photographs, or working on an art piece with Photoshop.” the whole elements together.

S. MAG. Do you have an emotional connection to your pieces?

S.H.: Sometimes when I’m emotional about a certain situation I’m going through, there would definitely be a connection to the piece.

S. MAG.: Who is your favorite artist? Why?

S.H.: In photo manipulation, it’s Nathalia Suellen. She’s definitely one of the leading international photo manipulators. I admire her work because she always comes up with new ideas and high quality work.

S. MAG.: What advice can you give to aspiring artists?

S.H.: I’d like from them to avoid imitating their idol artists. Each artist should depend on their feelings and imagination. Otherwise the work is not theirs. As Brooke Shaden said: “If you try to take someone else’s journey, you will only achieve someone else’s dream.”

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

S.H.: It’s actually a bit from each one. It started as a fun thing, then I felt like I’m artistically known by noticing the amount of fans, comments, and watchers. I couldn’t help but love and enjoy it. And of course since I don’t have a full-time job, I decided to consider it my job. But “fun” is always there.

S. MAG.: Creatively, what brings you joy? What about in your day- to-day life?

S.H.: Finishing an artwork and being completely satisfied with the outcome brings me joy.

My day-to-day life is always about art. I’m designing, taking photographs, or working on an art piece with Photoshop.

SuspenseMagazine.com 45 S. MAG.: What is your biggest challenge professionally?

S.H.: I’d love to become a well-known book cover artist.

S. MAG.: What do you think are your three best qualities? Worst?

S.H.: My three best qualities are: patience (when it comes to working with art), supportive of every artist that has potential, and determination.

My three worst ones are: I don’t like to read, lazy, and sometimes too ambitious.

S. MAG.: Where do you see yourself in five years? Ten?

S.H.: In five years, I see myself as a fine art photographer. In ten years, hmm, well, I wish to become famous internationally and locally.

To learn more about this talented artist, please visit Sara’s deviantArt account at: http://sara- hel.deviantart.com/?rnrd=19660. ■

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 46

Stepping out With... Hank Steinberg

By Suspense Magazine Photo Credit: Lara Porzak Hank Steinberg was the acclaimed creator, writer, and producer of the award-winning, hit television series Without a Trace and screenwriter of the acclaimed HBO film 61*. He has been nominated for an Emmy Award and Writers Guild of America Award for screenwriting as well as a Humanitas Award. He lives in Los Angeles and is currently working on the screenplay for Out of Range for Paramount Pictures, and writing and producing the TNT series The Last Ship. Now Hank is stepping outside of Hollywood and has written his first book, “Out of Range.” Bestselling authors Harlan Coben, Andrew Gross, Douglas Preston, and Kathy Reichs agree that Hank Steinberg’s debut is an explosive, well-executed thrill ride. Let’s take a closer look inside his debut book “Out of Range.”

On the way home from a trip to Disneyland, Julie Davis vanishes, leaving behind her two young children locked in the car. It soon becomes clear to her husband, a political journalist at the Los Angeles Times, that her disappearance isn’t a random kidnapping. Something has gone horribly wrong.

Charlie Davis’s worst fears have just been realized. Haunted by an incident in Uzbekistan six years ago when he and Julie had barely escaped with their lives, Charlie traded his globe-trotting endeavors for a cushy, suburban life to ensure that no harm would ever come to them again.

Now, determined to bring his wife home at any cost, Charlie is forced to face the past that he has tried so hard to escape.

Yet the further he goes to find her, the more it becomes clear that Julie isn’t quite the person she seems to be. She’s been harboring dark secrets from the past—secrets that have come back to terrorize them all.

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 48 Masterfully combining the domestic suspense of Harlan Coben and David Baldacci with the international intrigue of Robert Ludlum, “Out of Range” is a scintillating tale of suspense and secrets, mystery and marriage—a complex puzzle full of twisting misdirection and surprises that will keep readers guessing until the final page.

We caught up to Hank and asked him some questions about this newest adventure. Check out the interview below.

Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): What can you tell us that is not on the back cover about “Out of Range”?

Hank Steinberg (H.S.): Though the storyline and characters don’t have any resemblance to me or people I know, the kernel of the idea actually came from my real life. It was about three years ago. My wife was driving home from Disneyland with my one- year old son in the back seat of her car. We were on the phone and I was helping her figure out how to get home. My son starting freaking out—an exhausted toddler tantrum—and my wife, sounding kind of panicky, announced that she was going to pull off the freeway. We hung up with her promising to call me back in five minutes. Within two minutes, I was already imagining all of the terrible things that might happen to them on some deserted, random exit off the freeway at night. Thirty seconds later, I began to wonder what I would do if she didn’t call me back. How long would it take for me to jump in the car and drive to the exit where I knew she’d gotten off? Another minute later, she called back. But in my neurotic anxiety, I’d just gotten the beginning to a thrilling story.

S. MAG.: Writing screenplays is much different than novels. How was the transition?

H.S.: For this kind of novel, the narrative structure was very similar, though stylistically they are so different. In a screenplay, one tries to be sparse, to leave room for the director and production designer and costume designer to interpret and create. It’s really a blueprint for another medium. In writing the book, I was daunted by the amount of detail and specificity that was required. But being able to dive into long internal monologues to get inside the characters’ heads was inordinately fun. It is very difficult in a screenplay to convey what a character is feeling without telegraphing it with on-the-nose dialogue. Overall, writing a novel was much more gratifying—and a lot more work.

S. MAG.: What makes a main character memorable to the reader?

H.S.: The character’s central dilemma. In this, Charlie has to decide whether he should risk everything to save the woman he loves when he knows that she’s lied to him. I think that’s a very compelling situation. The rest of him—his job, his background—are important details, but it’s the struggles he has with the decisions he needs to make in the course of the story that I think people will hook into and hold onto.

S. MAG.: With so many books today being character-driven, did you put together the cast of characters first or did you create them around the plot for “Out of Range”?

H.S.: In this case, I had the idea for a thrilling inciting incident—a narrative hook that I then had to back my characters into. Sometimes it works that way, sometimes it doesn’t. There were several iterations of who Charlie was before I settled on him being an international journalist because I needed a character who was a rugged individualist but also an underdog. I wanted his wife Julie to be from a different culture and I happen to love how women sound when they speak with a British accent. It almost always makes them sound smarter than they may actually be. Byko is in a way my favorite character. The bad guys often are for writers. I always appreciate when the antagonist is multi- dimensional. In this case, his nefarious actions are grounded in pain and rage and confusion. Which I think makes him more compelling and oddly relatable.

S. MAG.: Which is more difficult for you, watching the Yankees lose or reading a bad novel?

SuspenseMagazine.com 49 H.S.: A bad novel I will put down the moment I realize it’s bad. The Yankees OUT OF RANGE may be losing 10-2 in the eighth inning and I will keep watching, bathing in my By Hank Steinberg torment. I will even watch the post-game in vicarious self-flagellation. It’s a bit depraved. Charlie and Julie Davis live a more-or- less happy—if a little boring—suburban life S. MAG.: What is your favorite word, and least favorite word, and why? in Santa Monica, California, but it wasn’t always that way. Charlie used to pursue his H.S.: My opinion on this one would probably change on any given day that you journalism in hot spots around the world, ask me, but at the time of writing, my favorite word is “oh.” That’s because my such as Uzbekistan as it teetered on civil war two-year-old daughter says it about thirty times a day every time we explain in 2005. Julie fit right in, pursuing her own something to her or she has a realization. It’s the most charming thing in the activist causes alongside him. But when the world and I hope she never stops saying it. government crackdown came, with soldiers opening fire on unarmed protestors, they My least favorite word would have to be “progressive,” but that’s because we’re made their way back to the States to lead a scouting all of these different elementary schools for our kids and they all describe safe family life. They now have two kids, but themselves as “progressive” and they all seem to mean something different when are growing apart, both unsatisfied in their they say it. own ways, with Charlie getting pressure from his boss at the paper to step up his reporting S. MAG.: They say that writing is in the blood. When did you first realize this and get back out in the field. was the profession you wanted to get involved in? Suddenly the safety net that Charlie has spent years keeping in place falls away H.S.: I was interested in writing from a very young age. In high school, I was when Julie is snatched from her car, the editor of the school magazine. In college, I wrote sports for the daily paper. It kids left behind and unharmed. The police wasn’t until my junior year that I officially decided to try to earn a living as a suspect Charlie has killed Julie, but secrets begin to be exposed: Julie’s recent trip to writer. I’m not sure if it was really in my blood or I just have an interest in how New York wasn’t to New York at all, but to we relate to one another through storytelling. In any case, I think that everyone Europe. Was she having an affair with her old has their own unique voice; it’s only a question of whether or not one wants to flame, a powerful man in Uzbekistan she’d mine it. dated in college in London? Charlie knows something more is going on, but the police, S. MAG.: When you create a TV show like you did with Without a Trace, you convinced of his guilt, aren’t pursuing other have a much longer time to ease the character development process along. leads. Charlie takes matters into his own Was it tough for you to “speed” up the process with “Out of Range”? hands. This is the point—as is common in H.S.: No, not really. I started writing films before I got into television. In a film, the genre—where the reader really has to you need to establish character in the first five pages. So that’s pretty similar in suspend disbelief, as a suburban dad races off a novel like this. into a shadowy world of spies, mercenaries, terrorists, and political intrigue in the former S. MAG.: What one mystery would you like to solve for yourself? Soviet Union. But Steinberg has done a good job of developing the character; Charlie isn’t H.S.: I’d like to figure out when and why the American people became so apathetic special ops, but his father taught him how to and cynical about our political process—why we feel so disempowered to change use firearms, he learned some things while things, and why we don’t march in the streets when we know something is wrong. being a journalist in war-torn countries, and he has friends with well-placed connections. S. MAG.: What can fans expect to see next from Hank Steinberg? As the bullets start flying, a little bit of luck and some street smarts keep Charlie alive, H.S.: I’ll be very busy in the next year. I have a new TV series, which will appear and the right amount of detail helps keep it on TNT in the summer of 2014, entitled The Last Ship; a stage play which I all believable. wrote that will hopefully be produced in New York this year; I’m developing Plot twists, double crosses, last-second the film version of “Out of Range” for Paramount Pictures; and lastly, the next escapes, unlikely allies, surprising enemies... all are served up at a page-turning pace that installment in the travails of Charlie Davis should be published by the end of make “Out of Range” a satisfying thriller. next year. Reviewed by: Scott Pearson, author of “Star Trek: Honor in the Night” and cohost of We would like to thank Hank for speaking with us and you can also hear the Generations Geek podcast, for Suspense him on Suspense Radio on June 1, 2013 on demand at www.blogtalkradio. Magazine ■ com/suspensemagazine. ■

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 50 The Methuselah Root By Doward Stevens am often charged by my employer to assess his business ventures wherever they are located. Such was the case with my Itrip to his lumber mill in Barrow, Ohio, in the year of our Lord, 1824. A more remote site I hope to never encounter. Transportation by carriage was not advisable per the livery agent I entreated upon my arrival in the village of Franklintown. I was instead provided a mare and thus directed toward a breach in the forest that could barely be described as a path. The heat of high summer was near to rendering me prostrate against the sweating flank of the beast to whom I was confederated. I was informed this would be a journey of some few hours and, as such, I was outfitted with the appropriate accoutrement to best serve me. I daresay the attire proved no comfort in this hellish climate. A drove of insects beset upon me with such tenacious intent, I felt heady amidst their foraging swarms. Equally, my equine companion was not spared this frenzied assailment. In the woods, copse of elm, sugar maple, and white oak remained unyielding despite mankind’s drive toward development. They stand resplendent in a brume of intangible light filtering down from the tree tops. Up hills and down hollows they abide, some pulling roots from the unforgiving soil as though striving for a more accommodating station. One root in particular caught my fancy; chalky-white with tendrils like splayed geriatric fingers, each digit striated with bluish veins. It was quite abundant in the spongy loam. An indeterminate amount of time later my destination was revealed. In the gloaming, my weary eyes beheld the town of Barrow. Trees had been leveled to clear land for the half dozen or so structures built from the cleaved timber. It sat alongside an agitated river fed by distant falls. A giant wooden wheel joined to the lumber mill served to harness the power of the water. Yet this feat of engineering was for naught. Barrow appeared to be deserted. Given the hour, I expected flickering candlelight in homes and street lanterns. In these woods, the dark is oppressive, malevolent, shrouding this rural community in blackness that is as pitchy as Lucifer’s temperament. It has always been mankind’s desire to push back the night, asserting his dominance as a means of coping with the unknown that lurks in the shadows. Barrow made no such declaration. It embraced the darkness. My eyes had yet to fully adjust and I was without a torch for illumination. The mare expressed her trepidation to proceed, pacing nervously and gouging the ground with her iron shoes. Her muscles were taut and quivering. I feared she would bolt given the slightest provocation. “Easy, girl,” I said. No words of comfort were bestowed to sooth my ills. It took some effort to convince her. At last, I grew tired of her obstinacy and berated her harshly, digging the heels of my boots into her haunches. She begrudgingly carried me through the brush until we reached the town limits. A crude sign that once displayed the name Barrow had been vandalized and now read Barren, written in black paint. A chill enfolded me. The road into town was perpendicular ruts, the result of heavy wagon traffic. On my left was the General Store, simply a larger version of the dwellings that passed for houses. These crude shacks lined either side of the row. They consisted of knot-riddled planks for walls and roofs made of straw thatching. All the doors were missing. A pail closet sat to the rear of each lot; the effluvium of human waste assaulted my senses. I was appalled by the squalor. Further on, a blacksmith, boarding house, and the burnt remnants of a church constituted the remainder of this settlement.

SuspenseMagazine.com 51 I thought it wise to dismount and continue on foot. First, I needed to secure the mare a prudent distance in the event of misfortune. A hundred paces or so in the direction we came should suffice. Tethering her reins to the trunk of a fallen oak, I rooted through my parcels for something serviceable as a weapon. Sadly, my options were lacking. The oak, however, had no shortage of heavy limbs so I chose the most stout and put my considerable weight towards liberating it. It separated with an audible snap, not unlike a human appendage subject to equal force. I felt confident with its heft and parried it about, thinking myself a nobleman defending the honor of his lady. Pity the miscreant that crosses swords with me. As darkness extended its hold, Barrow’s silhouette melted into the interposing twilight. A few yards further and it would be completely cloaked, retreating from this world into the one beyond. It occurred to me I hadn’t heard any nocturnal creatures since I arrived. Perhaps they too sensed the aberrant nature of the place. But if this was true, why did I feel I was being watched? “Hello?” I said, feeling foolish almost instantly. “My name’s Peabody. I’ve come regarding the lack of production at the Mill.” The only reply I received was the susurration of the wind in the trees. Very well, then. I indulged my patience longer than I would have liked given the task at hand. The answers awaited me in Barrow, not out here speaking to the foliage. I would leave the interrogation to the mare. My intention was to search every building. However, it was the burnt-out church that drew my interest. How was this the only damaged structure in town? Certainly, the close proximity of the surrounding property would have encouraged the spread of the flames. It wasn’t until I approached the threshold that I truly understood the nature of this tragedy. The opening to the church was secured with lengths of that strange, chalky root! In fact, the charred, skeletal framework was completely entwined by it. Yet the root itself showed no indication of scorching. I make no claims of botany, but even a layman such as I knows this type of growth takes years to achieve. Setting aside my broken bough, I pried loose some planking near the narthex and clambered through, taking care not to injure myself on the splintered edge. The once welcoming vestibule now smelled of soot and an underlying corruption. The walls were textured in flaking, charcoal scaling. The nave leading to the altar was littered with broken beams and sections of collapsed roof. I would be forced to climb over upended pews to reach the sanctuary ahead. Unsure what I hoped to learn at the altar, I felt compelled to continue forward. Until I saw the dead. Dozens of them; men, women, children. Their bodies contorted and nearly ash. Faces protracted in gaping grimaces. Flesh turned to tallow on fractured bones. All of them seeking salvation at the altar of God. I beseeched our merciful Lord and Savior to heed their prayers and deliver them to the Kingdom of Heaven. Who would commit such Blasphemy? These damnable roots were complicit in this heinous act; yet, not entirely to blame. No more so than a sword is able to inflict harm of its own accord. This was the work of several madmen and, thus, left me at some disadvantage. I would return to Franklintown at once and notify whatever authority held jurisdiction. Firstly, I would gather evidence to corroborate my assertion. A gruesome undertaking, I admit. But it would serve these poor souls no justice were I to summon the constabulary with no more than my outlandish accusations. They would think me mad! With my handkerchief, I wrapped small fragments of bone and cinder and placed them in the pocket of my trousers. I decided to add a section of the root, as well, and retrieved it by using a torn swatch from the lining of my long coat. I put this in my breast pocket. All that remained was for me to make my exit from this gutted shrine. The redolence clung to my clothes like the embrace of a ghoul, permeating each fiber and penetrating through to my skin. I could only surmise the reaction I would receive from the mare. Her misgivings, in hindsight, proved to be correct. I retraced my steps through Barrow, my trusty bough again in hand. I was perhaps midway through the darkened town when I detected movement in the shadowy buildings around me. Furtive motions possibly meant to illicit fear and unease from me. It merely served to strengthen my resolve to expose these heathens and their paganistic ritual. Maintaining my current pace, I began whistling a favorite tune of mine, Home Sweet Home. My surreptitious audience followed me with, I imagined, extreme interest at my lack of concern. Let them observe a true gentleman who does not cower before madmen. “Wait,” a ghastly voice issued from within the General Store. Like the intonation of a serpent should one demonstrate the ability to speak. What was this? A plea? I stopped with a show of impatience. “Step forward and address me properly,” I said, asserting my higher station. I stared into the nebulous doorway and the

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 52 pitiless character concealed therein. “You would do well to reconsider that request.” “And you, sir, should understand I care little for the opinion of murderers.” “Murderers, you say.” The words were delivered with a level of insolence to which I was not accustomed. Especially from petulant laborers who forgo manners. “What an interesting accusation.” “My benefactor, your employer, has concerns with the operation of this lumber mill,” I said. “I also have concerns with the operation of this lumber mill.” The exchange was proving quite exhausting. “I doubt your concerns were presented appropriately. Little can be gained from violence. The laws of society extend to even these distant regions. You will answer for your crime.” “AND YOU WILL ANSWER FOR YOURS!” The words and the speaker both exploded from the shadows. It was an aged, cadaverous creature equally human and plant that stood recalcitrant before me. Its limbs were pale and elongated to the point of gigantism by the chalky-white root fused with its skeleton. It moved with spidery grace and fixed me with eyes more fibrous knots than windows to the soul. But burning there was a profound hatred. “Dear God,” I said, collapsing to my knees. “We are the Lignum.” They emerged from the buildings; its progeny. Similar in form, but not size. Hundreds of them, loping about like yearlings. I could not differentiate the male from female. Akin to the larger beast, these monstrous beings were ancient. Silvered hair covered crowns blemished in rampant liver spots. “What have you done?” I asked, cringing as several groups converged upon me, curious about me as I was of them. “It is the Root. It is older than all civilizations. Birthed in the fires at the core of this world. Then rising from the depths, establishing dominion in the forest, thriving within the trees. Hosts whose lifespan can accommodate the accelerated aging incited by the symbiosis.” The mill workers unwittingly released the parasites when clearing the woods. And paid the price. I was sickened at the thought. “There was no other recourse. Unable to survive the corrosive oxygen in the atmosphere, the Root required new hosts. The adult humans matured too quickly and perished. It was the children who endured.” I watched the smaller Lignum capering about, tussling with each other, moving in troops through the abandoned town. Mentally, still adolescents; physically, older than Methuselah. Soon, they too would join their parents as the symbiosis stimulated their metabolism, burning through their formative years like a wildfire. “What about the people in the Church?” I asked. “Why were they murdered?” “They resisted assimilation. They destroyed most of the initial symbiotes. They ripped the Root from the bodies and cast It into the woods to die. Then they hid in their temple.” The elder creature descended the steps and approached. I wanted to stand before It, to face whatever fate had in store for me. But my will was diminished like a man who stands in the shadow of the gallows. “You were not satisfied in your world and encroached on Ours. Your arrogance is your undoing. It is only fitting that you suffer the same fate as the Root.” The Lignum enveloped me and forced me onto my back, tittering excitedly. My arms and legs were spread and held securely in place. The elder creature straddled me and raised high the ax. “OTHERS WILL COME!” I screamed. “LOOKING FOR ME!” It smiled. “Let them.” ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 53

Chevy Stevens On Life & Writing

By Starr Gardinier Reina for Suspense Magazine Photo Credit: Suzanne Teresa Perhaps I’m not the person who should be writing this interview, as I’m a Stevens fan. But perhaps I am the one who should be doing it, as I’m a new fan. Having read Stevens’s books, I can assure that if she writes them, I will read them. It’s sort of like the Field of Dreams—“If you build it, they will come.” Well, I’m here! For those who may not be familiar with Chevy Stevens’s work, let me take a few minutes and tell you something about her. She’s a New York Times bestseller and rightfully so. With “Still Missing” followed by “Never Knowing” and “Always Watching,” Stephens enthralls readers with her poignant yet thrilling words. (No, “Always Watching” isn’t out until June, but I was truly lucky enough to have been able to read and review it in advance.) You’d think she’d been writing all her life, but before her debut into the literature world, she worked in sales as a representative for a giftware company and then went on to become a realtor. But selling houses apparently didn’t satisfy her enough and it’s to our delight that it didn’t. Now, she can be found all over the Internet, including many other countries. I could go on all day about her, but I figured you would want to know what her latest book is about and hear from her instead of my droning on, singing her praises. Here’s a bit about it, but also check out my personal review of that in this issue:

She helps people put their demons to rest.

But she has a few of her own…

In the lockdown ward of a psychiatric hospital, Dr. Nadine Lavoie is in her element. She has the tools to help people, and she has the desire—healing broken families is what she lives for. But Nadine doesn’t want to look too closely at her own past because there are whole chunks of her life that are black holes. It takes all her willpower to tamp down her recurrent claustrophobia, and her daughter, Lisa, is a runaway who has been on the streets for seven years.

When a distraught woman, Heather Simeon, is brought into the Psychiatric Intensive Care Unit after a

SuspenseMagazine.com 55 “I always try to walk the line when I write about any sensitive subjects.”

suicide attempt, Nadine gently coaxes her story out of her—and learns of some troubling parallels with her own life. Digging deeper, Nadine is forced to confront her traumatic childhood, and the damage that began when she and her brother were brought by their mother to a remote commune on Vancouver Island. What happened to Nadine? Why was their family destroyed? And why does the name Aaron Quinn, the group’s leader, bring complex feelings of terror to Nadine even today?

And then, the unthinkable happens, and Nadine realizes that danger is closer to home than she ever imagined. She has no choice but to face what terrifies her the most…and fight back.

Sometimes you can leave the past, but you can never escape.

I was able to ask her a few questions and here is what she had to say:

Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): Your website tells what your inspiration was for “Still Missing.” What made you write “Always Watching”? Any specific inspiration for this latest novel?

Chevy Stevens (C.S.): I wanted to write about Nadine, the psychiatrist who is in my first two books though she never speaks, and about cults. I was also interested in repressed memories, which is a controversial subject in the psychiatry field, and how I could work that into Nadine’s past. I also wanted to set this book partly in Shawnigan Lake, B.C., which is where I grew up. There used to be a hippie commune by the side of the river in the seventies and I became intrigued with the idea that Nadine might have lived there for a while. I wondered what could’ve happened if a stranger with dark motives had come to that peaceful commune and how he might’ve slowly taken over.

S. MAG.: Your books are sold in many other countries. It appears that each of your books have their own covers in other countries, such as the U.K., etc. Do you have any say in what those covers may look like and the same as the titles as I see some of them are also different in other countries? If so, to what extent do you decide on the alternate title/book cover?

C.S.: Each publisher creates their own cover and some do consult with me, but unless I really don’t agree with a design, I leave it up to them, as they know their market best. What might work here, might not work overseas, and vice versa. The same thing goes with titles. Some of my titles don’t work the same once they are translated so they need to try something else.

S. MAG.: In terms of your lifestyle, feelings, or the like, how has your life changed from the publication of your first book “Still Missing” to this latest release, “Always Watching”?

C.S.: Personally, my life has changed a lot! When I started writing “Still Missing,” I was single and a real estate agent. Then I left real estate and was living on savings. Now I’m married with a baby. Professionally, I’m more comfortable with the process and

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 56 understand the craft better, but I still want to continue to learn and grow with each ALWAYS WATCHING book. By Chevy Stevens

S. MAG.: Besides your own, what books are on your shelves? What do you like “Heart-pounding,” (Lisa reading? Jackson) “Harrowing,” (Linwood Barclay) and “Chilling” (William C.S.: I read many genres, literary, memoirs, humor, but probably not as many thrillers Landay) are just a few of the words as people might assume. There are some authors I really love, like Gillian Flynn, Chelsea others have used to describe Stevens’s Cain, Megan Abbott, Emily Giffin, Tana French, and Rosamund Lupton. I haven’t had newest book “Always Watching.” as much time to read for pleasure lately, but hope to bring some books with me when we They are all true. Add one other: go camping this summer. “Spellbinding” (Starr Gardinier Reina). That’s what I thought. This S. MAG.: When you’re not writing, what do you enjoy doing? Tell us about some of was one tough book to put down. your hobbies. Psychiatrist Nadine Lavoie meets a patient who brings to surface C.S.: My daughter was born in December so I haven’t had much free time. But typically, Nadine’s own terrifying past, one her psyche protected her from. But now I like watching movies, taking long walks, camping with my family, and canoeing. And that she’s remembering, she has to reading, of course. face her past. Her mother, tired of the abuse by S. MAG.: Which one of your characters “speaks” to you the most when you are the hands of her father, brings Nadine writing them? and Robbie, her brother to live in a commune when they were thirteen C.S.: I only write from first person, so it’s the main character who speaks to me the most. and sixteen, respectively. Aaron, the I like writing in the first person because it feels like I’m living the story, not just telling it. ‘leader,’ preached about living life purely and demanded his ‘residents’ S. MAG.: Now that you are internationally known, does it cause you more pressure follow his every rule. When they when you put out a new novel? Do you feel your newest book must be your best? didn’t…well, they were punished. Finally, Nadine’s father comes and C.S.: I try not to focus too much on which book is my “best” because it’s so subjective, takes them out, away from the horror but I try to challenge myself each time, taking on a subject matter that scares me or that of the commune. needs lots of research—and I always feel pressure to put out my best work. Whatever I Nadine, in her adult years, suffers from claustrophobia and hasn’t been do, I give it my all. able to find the root of the fear. But as she digs deeper into what the S. MAG.: Do you ever push back from the desk thinking that you might have gone commune is up to now, she finds out too far with a storyline or character? Do you have personal limitations? more than she can handle. A violent rage bubbles just C.S.: I always try to walk the line when I write about any sensitive subjects. The first below the surface when Aaron and time around I just let things flow, but as I revise and edit, I take a lot of time to think his brother Joseph are threatened by things through. I want to make sure that I’m making my point without upsetting my Nadine’s quest to bring to light the readers or being too graphic. ugly side of Aaron and his ‘lifestyle.’ Torment can describe what Nadine S. MAG.: What’s next after “Always Watching”? Can you give us a hint as to what you goes through as she recalls what are planning next and have you already started it? happened to her as a little girl and anguish when she discovers her own C.S.: I’m currently finishing revisions on my fourth book, which is called “That Night.” missing daughter is now calling the It’s a standalone, also set on Vancouver Island, but in Campbell River, which is a small commune home. As I said, “spellbinding” is a great community in the north end. “That Night” is about a woman, Toni Murphy, who was descriptor of Stevens’s story. There falsely convicted when she was just eighteen, along with her boyfriend, for the murder aren’t many other words to do this of her younger sister. After spending almost fifteen years in prison, she’s finally on parole book justice. Highly recommended. and trying to rebuild her life, but someone has different plans for her. . . . Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “The Other Side: Melinda’s We at Suspense Magazine, and specifically me, would like to thank you, Chevy Story” published by Suspense for taking the time to talk to us and your fans. To find out more about her, please Publishing, an imprint of Suspense visit her website at: http://www.chevystevens.com. We will “always [be] watching” Magazine ■ for your next release. ■

SuspenseMagazine.com 57 By Thomas Scopel

While I can’t say operatic music is my thing, monsters are, and therefore, I must admit that the Phantom is what truly drew me to beautiful clear voices filled with emotion in the first place. However, the awe when stepping into the Paris Opera House nearly forced me to forget my objective. From the massive and majestic chandelier hanging high in the center, to the heavy, red velvet curtains draping the walls, to the delicate fringed screen hiding the stage, I felt as if I had been transported back in time over a hundred years and began to wonder how horror could possibly have infected something so profound and beautiful. Having researched this phantom quite substantially, I knew there were tale conflictions, with some accusing fire and others blaming chemicals for his disfigurement. So I intended to take it straight to the soprano’s mouth and obtain the true answer. Nonetheless, as the lights went down and curtains parted, I nearly lost myself with the exquisite opening voice. So much for not being a fan! Regardless, I managed to regain focus as the evening’s dramatic melodies unfolded, surging both high and low, and made a conscious effort to continually look into the shadows. From my balcony seat I was able to overlook all the stage and much of the rising catwalks circling the perimeter up to the rafters and there was one instance when, while scrutinizing the small walkway leading to the darkened area directly above the hall’s crystal centerpiece, I thought I had seen a lurking and crouching silhouette. Squinting hard trying to verify what my eyes indicated, I cursed my fine arts ignorance of not stopping in the lobby to rent a pair of those long stemmed binoculars like many others had. But etiquette dictated that rising and leaving during a performance would be rude and draw attention. The third act began and drawn to the changed set of a lovely meadow with a well-built wishing well at the center, I lost sight of my quest for a moment. When I realized and peered back at the chandelier, with the set’s lighting change, the shadow now appeared to be nothing of interest and I put it from my mind. As a soprano contralto duet cascaded upon the audience, I looked about into every dark nook and cranny, seeking anything resembling someone quietly watching from the obscurities. But there was none. The program ended and I remained seated, watching and waiting to implement my strategy of hiding behind the wall curtains. Before long, both the balcony box and the theatre were void of patrons and I was at the wall feeling about, seeking a seam to slip behind. I heard someone moving about through the immediate area and since the lights were still up, could only assume that it was an usher. Holding my breath, not wanting to cause a ripple to flow through the sheeting, only taking little puffs of air when needed, I waited and listened. Twenty minutes went by and with sweat beginning to trickle in a continuous stream down the sides of my face, the echoing click of a power breaker switch being thrown was a relief. Looking down at my feet

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 58 again, they were in near total darkness. Out from behind the curtain, the cool air was refreshing and wonderful and I savored the moment to allow the perspiration to begin evaporating. I overlooked the emptiness of the place and was glad to see the chandelier, center aisle walkway, and front stage lighting still lit, but set very low. I went to the double doors leading out of the balcony into total darkness and a shiver went down my spine. Fumbling for the penlight flashlight I had the forethought to bring, its beam brought courage as it aided in my trek down a side of the massive double sided staircase. At the bottom, I turned right and found another set of double swinging doors that led into the main seating area, and just as I pushed through them, I heard it! I was surprised at how it suddenly affected and chilled me to the bone, causing me to freeze in my tracks. It was the dark and intense choice of notes that I could only assume came from one musician. Somewhat muffled, the sound came from below, but remained authoritative and powerful, reverberating throughout. I approached the stage, my feet and lower extremities were tingling with each note. I attempted to scale the edge of the stage, which, from my balcony seat, didn’t appear all that high. But looks are deceiving and it took me a couple of tries before I was finally able to drag myself up onto it. Taking a single step forward, the organ suddenly stopped and I found myself in deathly silence. Fear, like none I’ve ever felt before, invaded. A baritone voice from the opposite side of the stage asked, “What is it you seek?” I slid the button of my flashlight on and shined the beam toward the direction the voice came. He stood there silently and dark, peering back from behind a dingy white half-mask. He came toward me, his hard shoe heels clicking evenly against the wooden floor and echoing through the silence. Standing before me, the soft stage lights reflected off the side of his mask, making him appear quite menacing. I finally found my speech and blurted out, “I want to interview you for a monster series I’m writing.” “Monster series!” he cried out and I was taken aback. “I am no monster, contrary to what is believed or told in the tabloids. Of course, while I don’t deny causing death, I still contend it was for love, not like Jack the Ripper going about slicing up and butchering innocents. Does that make me a monster?” It was clear he was agitated and I countered with logic. “It’s not for me to judge, and I only request an audience to converse.” His head bowed. “Follow me.” He moved through a maze of backstage hallways, and I followed. We came to a large, iron grate. With a yank, the hinges squealed and it opened. He offered me entrance. I was leery, but deduced that had he wanted to dispose of me, the deed would probably have already been done. I stepped into the arched stone passage. He pulled the door closed with a loud clang. After a number of steps, we went down a set of concrete stairs and by the time we reached the bottom, the temperature had cooled and a preponderance of dampness, filled with the odor of burnt mold and mildew. We continued into medieval darkness. Screams of scampering frightened rats filled the air as we splashed through a shallow flowing stream, into another tunnel, and up a stone staircase. At the top we entered into a good sized room that appeared to be no more of a bricked or stoned cave, complete with flaming torches donning the perimeter walls. On the opposite side of the room, up on a level plateau above a jagged and worn pathway was the organ, nestled up against a glistening sheer rock wall. There was no doubt to its majesty. I wondered how such a massive instrument had come to be in such a place and glanced up at the ceiling, questioning how the sound appeared so vibrant when permeating the opera house before concluding that we must have somehow circled about to finish directly below the grand stage. I viewed the tunnels we had traversed as his version of a blindfold; an attempt to keep his sanctuary a secret. Taking a seat at the organ’s bench with his back to me, he began to play and was quite animated doing so, the black cape fluttering about with each movement. A crystal vase of long-dead roses stood alongside a flickering, eight-tiered candelabra atop the instrument. After the impromptu concert for one, he rose and came to me. “Tell me, what is it you seek?” Now, while my initial thought of wanting to ask him to remove the mask and show what was underneath was certainly morbid, I didn’t stoop to that level and simply asked, “What is your real name?”

SuspenseMagazine.com 59 He grinned ever so slightly. “I could tell you, but it is insignificant. And, since I’ve gained considerably more fame wearing a mask, please, if you will, address me as Phantom.” “There is no doubt that the mask has done just that. Is it an extension of your feelings?” “After looking in a mirror and seeing how burnt and disfigured I was, the mask was the only way to hide my gruesome appearance; make me appear more normal; allow me to look upon myself again. However, people can be rather cruel and it rapidly added an unintended consequence, which I’m sure you are aware. That is when the phantom persona came about.” “Why, I would think that with your expert caliber of playing, any opera house would be proud to have you . . . even with the mask and murder hanging over your head.” “Fear is what stops them. Believe me, if I could take it all back, I would. I went a little crazy after the accident. Nonetheless, the stigma will now forever reign and therefore, my destiny is to remain hidden down here with the rats and the worms.” “What brought you to this place? How did you find it?” “After the acid was tossed on me, I stumbled blindly into these sewers, continuing downward through the darkness, my palms leading the way and eventually collapsed into a vibrantly flowing trench.” (He pointed to a darkened area of the room and I saw the rippling stream flowing by.) “When I awoke, I was laying in this room…my coffin…my tomb.” My empathy grew. “How did the organ get to this terribly lonely place?” “It was an old discard, left draped and covered in the house’s back room. I learned of it while being part of the production. It dates from the late seventeen hundreds. With my passion sorely missed, night after night and piece by piece was brought here. By day, cleaning and polishing, assure working order and rebuilding. Eventually, my task was complete. Playing that first note was nothing short of exquisite and I found myself giddy. Over time though, a growing sense of seclusion invaded and the songs now reflect.” Just as I was about to ask where he studied, he abruptly turned and went back to the organ, but didn’t sit down. With arms stretched wide, he played four single notes. The first was an extremely low note, followed by an equally opposite high note and then another low and then another high. However, the notation wasn’t all that important. What was, was that those distinct notes allowed a cleverly disguised door to open. He beckoned for me to follow and stepped into the passageway. And I did. The path spiraled wide, with a gradual upward sloping and I was gentle with my steps, maintaining assured footing on the damp and slick rock. A number of passages along the way led off into darkness, but being more concerned with keeping up with his long strides and the light he carried, I strode past them with little glance. At the end, we came to a decrepit but sturdy heavy wooden door loaded with webs from long-gone spiders. He reached out, clasped the knob, turned, and pulled. The door broke free and creaked open in a cloud of dust. A draped cloth covered the opposite side opening and he sat the candelabra on a nearby ledge before reaching toward the cloth. A seam parted and as he held it open for me, I saw beyond and realized exactly where we were. Stepping through the doorway onto the rear of the opera house’s stage, behind a row of permanent lampposts, was a bittersweet relief. Before I was able to turn around and face him, out of the corner of my eye, his mask came sliding by on the floor and the door slammed shut. I whirled around only to see the red velvet wall covering’s final ripples and was amazed at how inconspicuously hidden this door was. Bathed in soft glow of stage lighting, I picked up the mask, held it to my face and peered out from behind it. A secluded, lonely and trapped feeling overwhelmed me. I stepped toward the exit and the organ again began playing. While the dark and dreary tones remained, I couldn’t help but smile and I listened for a few more minutes before letting myself out into the evening drizzle. Tucking the mask under my jacket, I contently walked away down the dark alley. At home, while typing up this piece, compassionate scars of our meeting remained, something I assumed would be lifelong. Of course, in the event of forgetfulness, I need only offer glance to the top shelf of the curio cabinet for reminding. With my first rewrite completed, I went to the kitchen for a replenishing snack of cheese and crackers. Back at the desk, I finished both the snack and the tale. When I pushed away from the desk, the mess of crumbs fell from my lap to the floor below and I went and fetched the broom. Not only did the broom clean the mess, but also forced a preponderance of thought toward the next installment, to a clan of characters that may very well be the most terrifying of all and quite capable of attacking without being near. While I’ve never actually studied witchcraft, I’m going to at least delve. And probably start with a trip to Salem. ■

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 60 Meet police superintendent Malin Fors: Talented. Troubled. With a sixth sense for the truth.

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Facebook.com/AtriaBooks Twitter.com/AtriaBooks Alafair Faces her Fears Burke Interview by Suspense Magazine Photo Credit: Deborah Copaken Kogan

hen Dennis Lehane calls Wyou “One of the finest young crime writers working today,” you stand up and take notice. And that is what we did in talking with author Alafair Burke about her latest book “If You Were Here.” Alafair is the author of two popular series, with characters NYPD Detective Ellie Hatcher and Portland Deputy District Attorney Samantha Kincaid. Her latest book, however, introduces us to a new character, Manhattan journalist McKenna Jordan. A graduate of Stanford Law School and a former Deputy District Attorney in Portland, Oregon, Alafair is now a professor at Hofstra Law School, where she teaches criminal law and procedure. Alafair’s fascination with crime started at an early age when her family moved from the southern Florida to Wichita. No sooner had they arrived than the Wichita police announced a connection among seven unsolved murders of women and children. The killer was named BTK, which stood for “Bind, Torture, Kill,” and Alafair’s new home was within the killer’s territory. Alafair uses her professional experience to bring complex characters wrapped up in a web of intrigue. Let’s take a closer look at her latest book, “If You Were Here.”

Manhattan journalist McKenna Jordan is chasing the story of an unidentified woman who heroically pulled a teenaged boy from the subway tracks. When she locates a video that captures part of the incident, she thinks she has an edge on the competition scrambling to identify the mystery heroine, but is shocked to discover that the woman in the video bears a strong resemblance to Susan Hauptmann, a close friend who disappeared without a trace a decade earlier. What would have been a short-lived Metro story sends McKenna on a dangerous search for the missing woman—a search that will force her to unearth long-buried truths much closer to home….

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 62 In real life, that lack of common history made it fun to get to We caught up to Alafair and interviewed her about the know each other from true scratch. But as a writer who spends book—and more. time occupying a fictional world, I have always wanted to find a way to mine the potential for secrecy in a relationship where Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): What can you tell us about “If either party could by lying about the past. How much do we You Were Here” that is not on the back cover? each really know about the lives the other led before we built one together? What events and people have we chosen to filter Alafair Burke (A.B.): The book jacket describes the main from the present? characters as McKenna Jordan, a former prosecutor turned writer, and her husband Patrick, a West Point grad who now S. MAG.: When you sit down and think of McKenna Jordan, manages security at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The what one word comes to your mind and why? plot involves McKenna’s relentless search for their close friend Susan Hauptmann—her husband’s West Point classmate who A.B.: Obsessive. McKenna’s mind is constantly racing, vanished a decade earlier. wondering what is going to happen next, how it is going to affect her, and how she can shape her own future. Her thoughts What most readers won’t know is that I borrowed McKenna’s live elsewhere in time. One of her biggest flaws is the inability and Patrick’s professional biographies from my own marriage. to appreciate the present or accept the status quo. That’s why I spent five years as a prosecutor before turning to law teaching she has never been able to accept Susan’s disappearance. Other and writing, and my husband went to West Point, served in people in Susan’s life were willing to accept the real possibility the military, and now works in security at the Metropolitan that she may have simply chosen to start a new life somewhere. Museum of Art. McKenna never accepted that, and it’s unclear to the reader whether it’s because of any real evidence, or simply because My previous eight novels all drew heavily from my prior McKenna is unable to accept the unknown generally. experience as a prosecutor and the knowledge I gained there about the courthouse and police precinct cultures. After nearly S. MAG.: When you go back and re-read the book, do you ten years with my husband, I finally felt ready to bring the put yourself in the fan’s perspective to see how it feels? same verisimilitude to the military and private security worlds I’ve been privileged to learn about secondhand. A.B.: I find it impossible to read my own work objectively. I already know the ending. I know what the characters learn More important than the professional biographies, though, is about themselves. I know the larger themes that go beyond plot the fact that McKenna and Patrick share only one common and character. The most I can do is check it for flaws and ask link in their pasts—their mutual friend Susan. My husband myself if I wrote the best book I could possibly write. and I met despite completely non-overlapping paths to New York City. Unlike most couples, we did not meet at work or This book is especially personal to me, in light of the main through overlapping circles of friends or family. Had we not characters’ back stories. I wanted McKenna, Patrick, and met online, we may never have met at all. Susan to feel absolutely real.

SuspenseMagazine.com 63 S. MAG.: The pacing of a “suspense” book has to be like personal connection to the action. In some respects, McKenna climbing a mountain, with some twists thrown in. Do you is acting as an investigator in “If You Were Here” by looking for find it tough keeping up with the pace? her friend Susan. But her actions put her own career and safety in jeopardy. They also make her wonder how much she really A.B.: Too often when we think of suspense and a quick pace, we knows about her husband’s past. As an Ellie Hatcher novel, the think of a book with constant physical action on the page—car same plot would have been about Ellie and Susan. chases, fist fights, explosions, and gunfire. That’s not the kind of suspense I tend to enjoy, and it’s certainly not what I write. S. MAG.: Which sentence or scene in “If You Were Here” do you think captures the essence of the book? Suspense comes whenever you can successfully make the reader care about what happens next. “If You Were Here” A.B.: There’s a chapter early on in the book that has McKenna tells the story of Susan Hauptmann’s disappearance, and remembering the night Susan first introduced McKenna potential reappearance, from the vantage points of three to her future husband, Patrick. Susan drinks too much and different characters: Joe Scanlin, the detective who originally predicts that someday McKenna and Patrick will get married. investigated Susan’s disappearance (and therefore only knows McKenna says she was too distracted at the time to take Susan’s the past); a man named Carter who is looking for Susan now prediction seriously because her entire focus was on getting the (and knows only about the present); and McKenna, who knows attention she felt she deserved at the D.A.’s office. McKenna different information—sometimes less, sometimes more—than says that both of them turned out to be right, but that neither the other two about both the past and the present. Getting of them was prescient enough to know that it would also be the readers to care about how those narratives eventually merge is year when Susan would disappear without a trace. the real challenge. If I can manage to do that, I’m confident that I have some surprises in store for even the most experienced That early scene signals to the reader that the lives of these crime readers. three characters are entangled in complicated ways that have to be traced back a decade. S. MAG.: Do you have any superstitions when you write? S. MAG.: The beginning or the end of the book—which do A.B.: I’m always convinced that I won’t finish, and that if I you feel has more impact on the reader, but which is more do, the book will be awful. I don’t voluntarily choose to believe difficult to write for the author? that, but I do. And nine times, I’ve managed to finish. And nine times, I’ve read the book and been happy with it. And nine A.B.: I know everyone says that the beginning of a book is times, after I’ve finished and been happy with the work, I’ve everything. It’s the writer’s opportunity to pull readers in and had to admit to myself that it’s my own doubting, critical voice keep them with the story. Unfortunately, I’ve read a lot of books that kept my butt in the chair and made the book happen. I with great opening hooks that fail to deliver on all the other suspect that if I ever actually start to believe I know what I’m things that make a book wonderful. doing, everything will fall apart. How’s that for neurosis? A satisfying ending is so much harder. A good ending not only S. MAG.: McKenna Jordan is sitting in front of you right pulls together the plot threads in a surprising and credible now. What would you like to ask her? way, but also provides some kind of closure for the characters. Most ambitious of all, it keeps readers thinking about those A.B.: I would ask her to go away. “If You Were Here” is a characters and the larger themes of the book long after they’ve standalone. Now that I’m done with the book and working on read the last page. the next Hatcher novel, I need her to stand down and get out of my head. I do keep hearing her voice, though, so I hope she’ll S. MAG.: What is next for Alafair Burke? stick with readers, too. A.B.: I’m working on my tenth novel, the next entry in the Ellie S. MAG.: Your last book “Never Tell” was part of the Ellie Hatcher series. She gets pulled into an exoneration claim by a Hatcher series. Why was “If You Were Here” not the book to man who was convicted years earlier of a series of murders. As have her in and be a standalone? always, I’m convinced I’ll never finish. Stay tuned.

A.B.: I love procedurals. I hate that word because “procedurals” We would like to thank Alafair for taking the time out to sounds boring, but I love books with cops and lawyers as the speak with us. You can find out a lot more about Alafair and lead characters. But twice so far, I have written standalones all her books at: http://alafairburke.com. ■ because the plot called for the main character to have a more

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 64 By Donald Allen Kirch “THE PARANORMAL LIFE OF GEORGE WASHINGTON”

hen most people Americans have ever had! Wthink about George First, Washington became Washington, they visualize the responsible for the very “taxation famous painting of him Crossing without representation” that had the Delaware, the folktale of him caused the Colonies to inspire chopping down the cherry tree, his themselves to form “a more image on the dollar bill, or as the perfect union” and face their first President of the United States parent nation of Great Britain, of America. seeking the unorthodox prize of Washington was all those and a independence. lot more. He was a deeply spiritual Long before the revolutionary man, a loving husband, and a thoughts of John Adams, Thomas brilliant military leader. Facing the Jefferson, and Thomas Paine, impossible, he became the ideal Washington was a not-so-well- image of the Colonial Army against known major in His Majesty’s the indestructible might of the Colonial Army. Assigned to a British Empire. In some colleges diplomatic mission, Washington today, professors, comfortable had fired the first shots of what with their fifteen-hour-a-month America would call The French workload, re-educate their and Indian Wars, and what Great students by labeling this important Britain would remember as “The figure as a “terrorist.” They do not Seven Years’ War.” Britain had see the importance of the man, invested a lot of protection into because they no longer believe. life. That much was certain. her North American colonies at Nor do they have to, given current Washington, quite possibly, was great expense. These expenses, after the politics in Washington, D.C. the most paranormal president the war, had to be paid. What better way George Washington had a secret for the colonialists of the Americas to

SuspenseMagazine.com 65 show their gratitude towards their king, Rumored, because no “official” spreading through me. I would have than through taxes? The result sparked document was allowed to be made. risen but the riveted gaze of the being rebellion. Later, that rebellion would However, for over two centuries, the before me rendered volition impossible. give rise to a nation. story is still told: George Washington I assayed once more to address her, but All by the start of George once confessed to having seen the my tongue had become useless. Even Washington firing a musket! Virgin Mary. The original telling of this thought itself had become paralyzed. Later in life, the First President encounter had first been recorded in “A new influence, mysterious, claimed to have seen visions in his sleep journals of Washington’s officers and potent, irresistible, took possession of about the aforementioned moment, and friends, saved, treasured, and at last me. All I could do was to gaze steadily, that “enlightened angels” stated for him retold in a written report in volume 4, vacantly at my unknown visitant.” to fear not—he would be protected. number 12 of an old Nineteenth Century At this time, one of the men let out veteran’s publication known as National Washington feared no battle. a short laugh, thinking that Washington Tribune. Today, this publication is was playing a joke. Commanding The man firmly believed that he known throughout the Armed Services was impervious to bullets! officers were known to do this at as Stars and Stripes. The story was told meetings to lighten the blow of harsh An Indian Warrior who had stood by an aide of Washington’s named news. Upon hearing the chuckle, the beside Washington in battle testified to Anthony Sherman. general glared hard at the unfortunate Congress years after the Revolution that During the harsh winter, General officer who had delivered it. “Chief Washington was never born to Washington was known to take solitary be killed by a bullet.” Another warring One must remember that Sherman walks around the slopes and hills himself retold this story at the ripe Indian Chief named Red Hawk had shot of Valley Forge. Each soldier knew at and missed him eleven times. Up to old age of ninety-seven. There was what their general was doing. He was a movement at that time to make that moment, the chief had been well- praying. But on one particular evening, known for his marksmanship. Many Washington’s birthday a national Washington failed to take his daily trek. holiday, and it faced much opposition. Indians believed that Washington was Instead, he spent all day in his quarters. being protected by the Great Spirit. Perhaps, this old soldier was trying to Sherman later wrote in his journal, At one point in battle, Red Hawk had paint a glorious picture of his former “When he came out, I noticed that ordered all of his armed men to fire Commander-in-Chief? his face was a shade paler than usual, upon the general. ALL missed. Red Washington continued with his and there seemed to be something Hawk then ordered his men to retreat, story: on his mind of more than ordinary stating that Washington would one day “Gradually the surrounding importance.” rise to “find a mighty nation.” atmosphere seemed as though Sherman could read Washington. During the Revolution, a British becoming filled with sensations, and After all, the two men fought by side by soldier, who had been the head of a luminous. Everything about me seemed side for most of the Revolutionary War. squadron of sharpshooters, took aim to ratify, the mysterious visitor herself at Washington, had an overwhelming That night, Washington told becoming more airy and yet more urge NOT to fire, and resigned Sherman, “I do not know whether it distant to my sight than before, I now himself upon the field of battle. When is owing to the anxiety of my mind, or began to feel as one dying, or rather confronted with this fact, Washington what, but this afternoon as I was sitting to experience the sensations which I gave the soldier three days’ worth of at this table engaged in preparing a have sometimes imagined accompany food and water then released him. No dispatch, something seemed to disturb dissolution. I did not think, I did not explanation was ever given as to why me. Looking up, I beheld standing reason, I did not move; all were alike the general had been so charitable. opposite me a singularly beautiful impossible.” female. So astonished was I, for I had After the war, Washington tallied It was then that George Washington given strict order not to be disturbed, his losses: twelve horses were shot out was said to have heard the woman say, that it was some moments before I from under him, he lost eight prized “Son of the Republic, look and learn.” found language to inquire into the hats—shot off his head—and three of Washington grew silent again. cause of her presence. his favorite field jackets were ruined This time there was no laughter. “A second, third, and even a fourth by several bullet holes. Perhaps, just “What did you see?” an officer perhaps, he WAS bulletproof? time did I repeat my question, but received no answer from my mysterious inquired. In 1777, during the Army’s fateful visitor except a slight rising of her eyes. Washington, who was not one trial at Valley Forge, it was rumored that By this time I felt strange sensations to openly show emotion, started to Washington had his greatest encounter.

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 66 tremble. “With the mysterious woman are brethren.’ Instantly, the inhabitants, water from the ocean and sprinkled it there appeared a rather dark and casting from them their weapons upon America. Instantly the dark cloud distinguished...man.” became friends once more, and united rolled back, together with the armies it The men around the general were around the National Standard. had brought, leaving the inhabitants of nothing but attention! “And again I heard the mysterious the land victorious! “ ‘Son of the Republic,’ said the voice saying, ‘Son of the Republic, “Then once more I beheld the same mysterious voice as before, ‘look look and learn.’ At this the dark, villages, towns and cities springing up and learn.’ At that moment I beheld a shadowy angel placed a trumpet to his where I had seen them before, while dark, shadowy being, like an angel, mouth, and blew three distinct blasts; the bright angel, planting the azure standing, or rather floating in midair, and taking water from the ocean, he standard he had brought in the midst between Europe and America. Dipping sprinkled it upon Europe, Asia, and of them, cried with a loud voice, ‘While water out of the ocean in the hollow Africa. Then my eyes beheld a fearful the stars remain, and the heavens send of each hand, he sprinkled some upon scene: from each of these countries down dew upon the earth, so long shall America with his right hand, while with arose thick, black clouds that were the Union last.’ And taking from his his left hand he cast some on Europe. soon joined into one. Throughout this brow the crown on which blazoned the Immediately a cloud rose from these mass there gleamed a dark red light word ‘UNION,’ he placed it upon the countries, and joined in mid-ocean. by which I saw hordes of armed men, Standard while the people, kneeling For a while it remained stationary, and who, moving with the cloud, marched down, said, ‘Amen.’ then moved slowly westward, until it by land and sailed by sea to America. “The scene instantly began to fade enveloped America in its murky folds. “Our country was enveloped in this and dissolve, and I at last saw nothing “Sharp flashes of lightning gleamed volume of cloud, and I saw these vast but the rising, curling vapor I at first through it at intervals, and I heard armies devastate the whole country beheld. This also disappearing, I found the smothered groans and cries of the and burn the villages, towns and cities myself once more gazing upon the American people. that I beheld springing up. As my mysterious visitor, who, in the same “A second time the angel dipped ears listened to the thundering of the voice I had heard before, said, ‘Son of water from the ocean, and sprinkled it cannon, clashing of swords, and the the Republic, what you have seen is out as before. The dark cloud was then shouts and cries of millions in mortal thus interpreted: three great perils will drawn back to the ocean, in whose combat, I heard again the mysterious come upon the Republic. The most heaving billows it sank from view. A voice saying, ‘Son of the Republic, look fearful is the third, but in this greatest third time I heard the mysterious voice and learn.’ When the voice had ceased, conflict the whole world united shall saying, ‘Son of the Republic, look and the dark shadowy angel placed his not prevail against her. Let every child learn,’ I cast my eyes upon America and trumpet once more to his mouth, and of the Republic learn to live for his God, beheld villages and towns and cities blew a long and fearful blast. his land and the Union. With these springing up one after another until “Instantly a light as of a thousand words the vision vanished, and I started the whole land from the Atlantic to the suns shone down from above me, and from my seat and felt that I had seen a Pacific was dotted with them. pierced and broke into fragments the vision wherein had been shown to me the birth, progress, and destiny of the “Again, I heard the mysterious voice dark cloud which enveloped America. United States.” say, ‘Son of the Republic, the end of the At the same moment the angel upon century cometh, look and learn.’ At this whose head still shone the word Some claim that the Virgin Mary the dark shadowy angel turned his face Union, and who bore our national flag had shown the future of the “republic” southward, and from Africa I saw an in one hand and a sword in the other, that Washington and his men were ill-omened spectre approach our land. descended from the heavens attended risking their lives to create. Still, the It flitted slowly over every town and city by legions of white spirits. These story and speculations are just that, for of the latter. The inhabitants presently immediately joined the inhabitants of now. Perhaps, one day, Washington’s set themselves in battle array against America, who I perceived were well vision will be found upon an as of yet to each other. nigh overcome, but who immediately be discovered paper or journal? taking courage again, closed up their “As I continued looking I saw a There was also an episode of broken ranks and renewed the battle. bright angel, on whose brow rested a Washington narrowly avoiding being crown of light, on which was traced the “Again, amid the fearful noise of poisoned by a member of his staff. word ‘Union,’ bearing the American the conflict, I heard the mysterious The general had been suffering from flag which he placed between the voice saying, ‘Son of the Republic, look a terrible cold, which took from him, divided nation, and said, ‘Remember ye and learn.’ As the voice ceased, the momentarily, his sense of taste. A shadowy angel for the last time dipped loyalist cook took this opportunity to

SuspenseMagazine.com 67 prepare for Washington a dish filled In that story, the unfortunate cook’s focus a loosely held confederation with a “then considered” deadly plant. letter lay hidden, discovered, upon a of visionaries, who believed in the The meaty stew had been a favorite remodeling of an old house. independent destiny of both their at the general’s table, and he ate three The “then considered” deadly plant people and future nation. That “great hearty helpings of the dish. used in Washington’s stew? Tomatoes! experiment,” although extremely Although loyal to his king, the In those days, tomatoes were challenged today by people in power villainous cook considered Washington considered a distant cousin to the who have seriously lost their way, still a man “of considerable and honorable nightshade plant. Indeed, Thomas endures. Facing impossible odds and character,” and could not live with the Jefferson once ate a tomato in front of dangers, Washington prevailed. guilt of having killed such a person. So, a horrified group of onlookers, just to “History is written by the victors,” he wrote out his suicide note, taking prove that the vegetable was safe to eat. Napoleon had once said. Perhaps, just a carving knife, and like Washington The third president grew the plant at perhaps, General George Washington before him, he believed, ended his his home in Virginia and considered had a little ghostwriting provided by a existence later that same night. tomatoes important to proper blood superior power? Who can blame one Washington awoke to the horror of flow. for thinking that he had “help” along his cook dead. Today, it is impossible for us to the way? ■ The note was later discovered. envision the fear Early Americans had The affair was somehow forgotten, in this all-too-familiar side dish! If you are interested in reading more of until author Richard M. Gordon wrote George Washington, the soldier, this author’s work, please go to www. about it in an April 1959 issue of Ellery the president, and the man was a donaldallenkirch.com. Stay tuned for Queen’s Mystery Magazine, entitled remarkable figure in North American “STRANGER THAN FICTION” coming “The Murder of George Washington.” history. He helped to bring into soon to Suspense Magazine Radio!

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 68 Special Preview from Taylor Stevens The Doll By Taylor Stevens Press Photo Credit: Alyssa Skyes

ar along the street on either side and in both directions were squat block buildings, businesses divided one from the next by narrow windows and truck bays. The signage on one, scripted Fin large metallic block letters, read LOGAN’S, and Bradford pulled to the front of it. The parking area was empty, and from the ground level the building appeared quiet, if not deserted. Concrete steps under a roofed walkway led up to a mostly glass front door. Beyond the entry, all was dark, and daylight reflecting off the glass created a mirrored effect. The door’s latch rested against the frame as if someone in a hurry hadn’t realized the spring was broken. Bradford reached for the weapon holstered under his arm and toed the door open. Walker, following suit, went in behind him. The hallway was a straight, empty shot forty-five feet back to another door, which led to the warehouse area. Off the hall on both sides were the four rooms that made up the entire office—two in the front for workspace, two to the rear that had been used as a kitchen and a bedroom for as long as Logan had leased the place. At the moment, the only light was what filtered through the front door. The interior was silent, the floor littered with glass shattered from one of the large framed posters that had once hung high and now lay disjointed at the base of the wall. Bradford stepped beyond the shards, moved from one room to the next, staying in each just long enough to confirm it empty. The primary evidence of a struggle was in the kitchen, where the table was broken and dishes lay shattered on the floor. Dried blood streaked across the floor and counters. He found a light switch and elbowed it on, adding a garish illumination to the mix, and then, seeing what he needed to see, backed out, nodding for Walker to take a look. She stopped just before the chaos, and after a moment her eyes cut to his. He continued down the hall to the door that led to the warehouse and the restrooms, though he knew he’d find nothing out there. Whoever had done this had come for Logan, found him in the kitchen, taken him, and left. The warehouse, double the width of the front office, was spaced with machines, tools, and storage. Bradford stood in the oversize area listening to the buzz of electricity that ran through unseen wires to powerful lights. In the silence, he holstered the weapon, then turned a slow circle and willed the facts to come to him. The events of today were too connected to be coincidence, were too well informed to be new. There was a history that pulled everything together, something from their past, someone who would have known where to look and who to grab, and somehow all of this tied in to today. The events of Argentina tumbled inside his head. He pushed past Walker, who guarded the egress. In Logan’s bedroom, he dug through dressers and drawers, scanned the walls and surfaces, added almost as much to the mess as those who’d come before him, searching for photographs, artwork, personal touches, anything that would lead from Logan to Hannah, Logan’s daughter, who’d been the catalyst for Munroe’s infiltration in Buenos Aires. He found nothing. Like Munroe, Logan was careful not to leave anything that traced back to the ones he loved, and this one relief was drowned out by several more destructive possibilities. Bradford paused, then looked up to find Walker studying him. He straightened, ignoring what she left unsaid. No matter how it might appear to her, his weren’t the actions of a man who’d witnessed the abduction of his girlfriend. Walker didn’t know Munroe’s history, didn’t understand how Logan factored into the equation, and without having seen it, lived through it—survived it—she could never understand the place from which his fear was born.

SuspenseMagazine.com 69 Vanessa Michael Munroe was a killer with a predator’s natural instincts; she could take care of herself. What scared him—terrified him—was what would happen if she was pushed too far. He’d seen that place of destruction, had witnessed firsthand what the darkness could do to her mind, and if whoever had taken her had also taken Logan . . . Bradford let the thought die and cut off the murky places to which it led. He stood in place, deliberating, analyzing, then whispered, “Surveillance footage.” Walker’s head tipped up and around. He said, “Fiber optics.” They found the security system racked inside the kitchen’s closet, the miniature cooling fans still blowing and signs of hurried disturbance along the walls. The recording tray was empty. Bradford scanned behind the equipment, where clusters of wires fed to and from machines through the wall. He used the closet walls to brace himself and shimmied up to the faint outline of a cutaway. Pushed up, and the segment of ceiling lifted and slid away on rollers. The area above the kitchen was clean, had been decked, and the heating and cooling air vents redirected to include this small area—everything opposite what one might expect in an unused crawl space. A foot away from the opening were two servers and next to them a small rack of jacketed DVDs. He punched the button to open the recording tray, ejected an unmarked disk, slid it into a sleeve, and dropped it down to Walker. They moved from the kitchen back to the front area, where the computers had been destroyed and the hard drives removed. Hunted for logs, journals, notations on paper, anything that might direct them to Logan’s last visitor, but what they were searching for, if it had ever existed at all, had probably ended up on a scrap of paper tossed out with yesterday’s trash. They didn’t speak again until they were back inside the Explorer and Bradford had found a random pay phone from which he made an anonymous call to 911. “What’s the connection?” Walker asked. “Michael and Logan?” Bradford, eyes fixed on the road ahead, didn’t respond. He didn’t have the words to articulate the jumbled confusion of experience and history, the obscure paths Munroe had trod, from them the murky depths they were about to wade. Walker sighed and turned back to the window. Said, “You know things I don’t know and I can’t help solve this thing if you insist on playing the role of grieving boyfriend.” Bradford stole a glance in her direction. Said, “Whoever did this came after Michael and took Logan as collateral, as a hostage.” Paused. “Either that or they took him as a setup to a revenge killing—for Michael to witness before they kill her, too. One of those two.” A long, heavy silence filled the car and eventually Walker said, “Wow.” “It’s all just conjecture,” he said, “but you wanted to know.” She shifted in the seat so that she faced him. “I don’t understand. Logan races motorcycles for a living. Why the hell does he need his place wired like that?” “He races, he retools performance engines, but he’s also got a supply business that has nothing to do with his machine shop. Logan’s kind of a go-to guy. If you need something military-grade and difficult to get, he’ll do the getting.” “But no alarm system?” “Nothing that would bring law enforcement to his doorstep.” “And you don’t think what happened today might possibly be because of him and”—Walker air-quoted—“his supply business?” Bradford shot her another glance and turned back to the road. Whoever had done this had taken Munroe clean while Logan’s place was trashed and bloody. Even without knowing the history, it didn’t take a genius to follow the logic. He waited until he’d exited the freeway and stopped at a traffic light before answering. “It may be intertwined with his business somehow,” he said, “but ultimately this is about Michael.” “And you know this how? More gut instinct?” “Stop sniping at me,” he said. “I know you see it. Whoever did this grabbed Michael in public and in broad daylight, went through a hell of a lot of effort to create a diversion. This is not an amateur, so let’s just assume that if all he wanted was her dead, Logan would be here grieving over her body with us, but instead he’s missing, too. The only reason to take Logan is to control Michael.” “Fine for a theory,” she said, “but why take Logan specifically? Sure, he’s her friend, but if the idea is some sort of hostage situation, why not take you? Why not me for that matter, or some kid on the street?” Bradford waited again before speaking. How to explain who Logan was to Munroe? “Holding Logan hostage is the best weapon they could have come up with,” he said. “She’s tighter with him than with any blood bond.” “Someone knows this?” Bradford nodded. Someone knew. Who was the big fucking question. ■

Taylor Stevens is the New York Times bestselling author of “The Informationist” and “The Innocent.” Both featuring Vanessa Michael Munroe, they received critical acclaim and have been published in seventeen languages. Raised in communes across the globe and denied an education beyond the sixth grade, Stevens broke free of the Children of God and now lives in Texas. Her third book in the Munroe series, “The Doll,” will be published by Crown in June 2013.

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 70

The “Secret’s” out as the Clifton Chronicles continue with JeffreyArcher

Interview by Suspense Magazine Photo Credit: John Swannell Bestselling author Jeffrey Archer’s most recent book is his third entry in the Clifton Chronicles, “Best Kept Secret.” In 1975, Jeffrey burst onto the scene with his book “Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less” and over a career of nearly forty years, his writing is stronger than ever. His life story alone would be a very interesting book. From athlete to greater London councilman to Member of Parliament in the House of Commons, his life experiences have found their way into his writing. However, it is his Clifton Chronicles that we are focusing on now. Jeffrey will have five books in the series that started with, “Only Time Will Tell” and then onto book two, “The Sins of the Father.” The series has received rave reviews and topped the bestseller charts all around the world. Let’s take a closer look at each book:

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 72 “Only Time Will Tell” covers the years 1920 to 1940, and includes a cast of memorable characters that The Times has compared to those in The Forsyte Saga. Volume one takes us from the ravages of the Great War to the outbreak of the Second World War, when Harry must decide whether to take up a place at Oxford, or join the navy and go to war with Hitler’s Germany.

“The Sins of the Father”: The book opens in New York, 1939. Harry Clifton, under the new identity of Tom Bradshaw, finds himself arrested for first-degree murder. When Sefton Jelks, a top Manhattan lawyer, offers his services for nothing, penniless Harry has little choice but to accept his advice. After Harry is tried, found guilty and sentenced, Jelks mysteriously disappears, and the only way for him to prove his innocence is to reveal his true identity—something that he has sworn never to do in order to protect the woman he loves.

“Best Kept Secret”: The third novel is set in 1945. The vote in the House of Lords as to who should inherit the Barrington family fortune has ended in a tie. The Lord Chancellor’s deciding vote will cast a long shadow on the lives of Harry Clifton and Giles Barrington.

Harry returns to America to promote his latest novel, while his beloved Emma goes in search of the little girl who was found abandoned in her father’s office on the night he was killed.

When the General Election is called, Giles Barrington has to defend his seat in the House of Commons, and is horrified to discover who the Conservatives select to stand against him. But it is Sebastian Clifton, Harry and “Personally I find the beginning of the book the most challenging— it’s literally a case of sit down and stare at a blank sheet of paper until the first words come.”

Emma’s son, who ultimately influences his uncle’s fate.

In 1957, Sebastian wins a scholarship to Cambridge, and a new generation of the Clifton family march onto the page. After Sebastian is expelled from school, he unwittingly becomes caught up in an international art fraud involving a Rodin statue that is worth far more than the sum it raises at auction. Does he become a millionaire? Does he go to Cambridge? Is his life in danger?

We are pleased to be able to talk to Jeffrey about his series and other things, check out the interview below.

Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): “Best Kept Secret” is your latest release. Can you give us a little something not on the back cover?

Jeffrey Archer (J.A.): I think people identify with a character’s struggle to make something of their lives, to see someone fight to overcome the daily challenges that life throws at them. This still fascinates me, and I hope entertains my readers.

S. MAG.: “Best Kept Secret” is the third book in your Clifton Chronicles series. Will fans learn something new about Harry Clifton?

J.A.: They most certainly will—in the next book Harry is faced with a terrible dilemma, but does he solve it?

SuspenseMagazine.com 73 S. MAG.: You mention on your site that “Best Kept Secret” will answer a lot of questions. Did you feel that the third book was the right time?

J.A.: Yes, there were certain family issues that needed to be resolved before I could continue the main characters’ journeys into the next decade, and I also wanted to introduce some new characters. I have ended each book so far with a cliffhanger, but have always resolved that in the next book, to leave the reader with a new, and I hope, an even more dramatic ending.

S. MAG.: When writing a series, what is the one trap as an author that you didn’t want to fall into?

J.A.: To get lazy with the story and characters. In each book of The Clifton Chronicles, the reader will be introduced to new characters, new plot twists and action that moves between the UK, Argentina, and America.

S. MAG.: What made you go back to the 1920s to start Harry Clifton?

J.A.: I wanted to write a saga, a powerful story that took a character through one hundred years of his life, and as I didn’t want to write too far into the future, and get into the realms of science fiction, I had to go back to a realistic date. Also the twentieth century was such a period of change and upheaval not only with two World Wars, but with tremendous innovation. I thought it would be both challenging and exciting to write a story through those ten decades.

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

J.A.: Personally I find the beginning of the book the most challenging—it’s literally a case of sit down and stare at a blank sheet of paper until the first words come. I only ever have a basic plan of where I want to end up with each book, but inevitably this changes as you write, when new characters appear and you suddenly come up with a new twist. But I think for the reader, the ending is the most powerful.

S. MAG.: With the world of publishing changing so fast, how have you been able to handle the changes?

J.A.: The rise in e-books has been phenomenal and has made it increasingly difficult for conventional retailers, particularly the smaller, independent bookshops, to compete on price. But my publishing house has a great digital team who regularly brief me on the changes that are happening in that world. I have an e-reader, which has proved very worthwhile on long flights when I download several books before I travel. However, I’ll always prefer to go into a bookshop and browse the shelves and buy the book itself. I have also embraced the world of social media, and write a regular blog and tweet every day. I’ve also got a Facebook page.

S. MAG.: What scares Jeffrey Archer?

J.A.: Only sickness and death, and maybe the thought of having to sit through Wagner’s Ring Cycle.

S. MAG.: For fans new to the Clifton Chronicles series, where do you suggest they start?

J.A.: Although I’ve tried to write it so that each book in the Clifton Chronicles can be read as a standalone novel, I would always suggest a new reader starts with book one, “Only Time Will Tell,” at least so they get to meet Old Jack, who was one of my favorite characters to write. They also learn the backstory of how Harry and Emma meet.

S. MAG.: What is your favorite word and your least favorite word and why?

J.A.: Favorite: yes, because I’m positive. Least favorite: no, because it’s so negative.

We would like to thank Jeffrey for taking the time to speak with us. You can find out a lot more information about Jeffrey on his website: www.jeffreyarcher.com or follow him on twitter at @Jeffrey_Archer. ■

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 74 A Kidnapping

By Hannah Friend

ain shot through her head and continued down to her arms as she returned to consciousness. The girl slowly opened her eyes to find herself in a small room; the only light coming from under what she assumed was a door. The girl tried to move toward the light only to feel a tug on her wrists. She looked down to find that her wrists appeared to be bound and were connected to some object that she couldn’t quite make out in the low light. Why was she tied up? And where was she? The girl wracked her brain, trying to figure out how this could have happened to her. PMoments later it came to her; she had been kidnapped. She had been walking out to her car after spending the day with some friends and when she got to her car, a hand had shot out from underneath and grabbed one of her ankles. Before she could scream in fright, the hand had already pulled her feet out from under her and she was falling. She had landed hard, her hands taking a good amount of the force from the fall. Her attacker then moved out from under the car as quickly as a cat and leapt at her. She remembered fighting against her attacker, but they had slammed her head against the ground and forced a piece of cloth to her face. After that, the girl tried to recall the terrible turn of events, but her memory failed her and she remembered nothing. With this new memory freshly remembered, the girl’s mood quickly turned morose. How had this happened? She had always been so careful thanks to her parents’ many lectures about how dangerous the world could be. The girl even recalled that there had been pepper spray in her purse which she had left in her car. Why hadn’t she taken her purse with her? If she had, she might have been able to fend off her attacker. She might not be tied up in a room she had never seen before. The girl became more somber as she looked back on all of the things she could have done differently, all of the ways she could have saved herself. After an hour—at least she thought an hour had passed; she really couldn’t be sure because there was nothing to track time with—noises came from the other side of the door. The girl perked up and moved to face the door as at some point in her moping she had laid down. The noises were getting closer and she realized it was the sound of feet hitting the floor as the person got nearer to the door. The girl noticed a shadow pass in front her small source of light before she heard the doorknob turn and the door slammed open. The sudden bright light blinded her and she turned her head away, trying to block her eyes with her hands, but not quite succeeding because of the duct tape. The feet walked toward her and she soon had her face roughly grabbed and she found herself looking into the face that belonged to the feet. It was a man’s face. The man was fair

SuspenseMagazine.com 75 with a contemptuous expression marring what otherwise would have been an average face, a face that someone could have seen anywhere and not think it out of place. He turned her face this way and that and then proceeded to look her up and down. The contempt in his face morphed into a smirk and the girl wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor and leave the man’s incisive gaze. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” The man had a slight southern accent and the girl found herself wondering why he was here, in the north, kidnapping her. The girl was too shocked to speak, too much had happened for her to process his question and then figure out how to move her mouth to form the correct sounds in order to answer him. The man raised his hand as if to slap her and she cringed in fear. When no slap came, she peaked at him through her eyelashes to see him staring her down. “I said, what’s your name?” The man repeated himself, obviously angered that she had not answered fast enough. The threat had brought the girl out of her shock for the moment and she realized what he had asked of her. But for just a moment she paused. What was her name? It felt like it had been years since she had last heard someone say her name. Only a second passed before she could recall her name, but it was enough to make her even more afraid. “Giselle, my name is Giselle.” The girl managed to croak those few timorous words out and realized she hadn’t spoken since she had been at the party. How long ago could that have been? The man roughly grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “You’ll look at me when I speak to ya, got it?” Jodie Renner Editing Giselle nodded quickly, too scared to answer more than she had to. Fiction Editing and “Good. Now, how old are ya?” Critiquing Services Giselle endured the man’s battery of questions as best she could, but near the www.JodieRennerEditing.com end, he started to ask questions that she wasn’t comfortable with and she ended Specializing in thrillers, up getting threatened a few more times. romantic suspense, Throughout the questioning, the girl backed & other crime �iction herself up further away from the man, but he only followed her and now she had her back pressed into what she was connected to, which she now realized was an old- Look for Jodie’s craft of �iction articles on these blogs: fashioned radiator. Crime Fiction Collective, Blood-Red Pencil, The Thrill “Now, this is your new home. You ain’t Begins,“Jodie Writer’sRenner worked Forensics, with me and to transform Suspense my Magazine. thriller, going to try to run. No one else has tried , from an exciting book to a tight, to run and you aren’t goin’ to either. Do ya suspenseful, heart-pounding thrill ride.” The Lonely Mile understand?” His tone was menacing as he “Jodie edited my last three novels and - Allan did aLeverone stared her down. terri�ic job. … Highly recommended!” Giselle nodded her head quickly, her “I rate Jodie 6 stars out of 5!” - LJNo Sellers Remorse fear of the man increasing each time he silently threatened her. - Ian Walkley, Free sample edit for new clients The man nodded and turned to leave. He was halfway out of the door when he

Suspense Magazine June 2013 / Vol. 048 76 turned around and the smirk returned to his face. “One last thing: you ain’t getting away from me. This isn’t Taken, no one’s comin’ to save ya. Either ya stay here with me or you ain’t going to survive; your choice.” With that last sentence hanging in the air before the girl, the man left the room, slamming the door behind him. With the man finally gone, Giselle sunk into a lugubrious mood and began to cry mournfully. This couldn’t be happening. She was just an average girl! Average girls don’t have things like this happen to them and things like this don’t happen to an average girl! Was this how Anne Boleyn had felt when she had been locked up in that tower? Had she cried like this and feared for her life? The girl shook with each sob that wracked her body. Her mind was unable to wrap around the idea that this was reality, that she had been kidnapped. Just yesterday she had been arguing with her mother over something she couldn’t even remember. How she missed her mother. But then this man, this devil with his evil ways, had taken her, and now she would never see her mother again. Fresh sobs washed over the girl as she thought of her mother. She was always so jocund and candid, never afraid to give her opinion on any subject. Not unlike her mother, Giselle was also very candid, but no one compared to her mother. Her mother was also beautiful. Giselle remembered her long, dark hair that just reached her mid-back and how her mother always had it up it some fashion, whether in a chic chignon or barely held up with a pencil. Nostalgia welled up in her as she thought of her mother and all of the happy memories they shared together. She wanted more than anything to see her mother again. The girl stretched out on the ground, allowing herself to imagine she was back in her bed at home and her mother would be in any moment to wake up for school. She wanted her musings to be true with all of her being. She reached her hands out further, imagining she was reaching for the picture of her mother and her on the shelf in her headboard. The girl felt a white pain race across the tips of her fingers and brought them to her torso, cradling them. She cursed under her breath and looked toward where she had been reaching and saw something glint in the faint light from the door. What was that? The girl stopped her fingers from bleeding to the best of her abilities and then reached toward the glinting object, having wrapped her small shrug around her hand to protect it from more harm. She felt an oddly shaped object through her shrug and grabbed it, bringing it out where she could see it. The slightly jagged bit of glass glinted at her, showing her the faint reflection of her eyes and nose. Incredulity swept over the girl as she stared at herself in the shard of glass. All at once her thoughts turned to escape and to images of her reunion with her mother. Quickly, she began maneuvering the shard so that she would be able to cut the duct tape from her hands. The shard cut her hands, but she focused her attention on the duct tape, of cutting it from her wrists so she could be free. She would be free again. She would free herself to see her friends. She would free herself to see her mother. She would free herself for her own sake. She thought again of how she was an average girl. Average girls were free. By that reasoning, she would be free. It was this thought, along with the thought of her mother, she clung to as she cut the duct tape. The duct tape slowly began to separate, but the man had added many layers and so she had a lot of work to do. Suddenly the shard slipped and made a small gash in her hand. She cursed quietly and paused, breathing heavily. “Come on, you stupid shard! Work with me! I just want to be free and you are the key to my freedom. Please just help me.” The girl whispered intently, staring at the shard. After another moment of waiting for the pain to ebb, she again began to cut the duct tape. This would work. It would work because there was no other choice for her, because she believed it would work. The shard cut deeper and deeper into the duct tape and the girl felt a nervous excitement start to overcome her. It was working. She would be free again! She worked even harder to free herself and in the next moment the glass sprang through the duct tape, freeing her hands. A silent scream of joy burst from her lips and a triumphant smile plastered itself on her face. Giselle tore the duct tape from her wrists and examined her now bloody hands. Each hand had at least four scratches each and one had the small gash, but they were not as bad as she had thought they would be. Before she could revel in her victory more fully, she heard footsteps outside the door. He was already coming back? But she hadn’t thought of a plan yet! The girl looked from side to side and saw the faint glint off the shard of glass. She grabbed the glass again and hid both her hands behind her back. Hopefully he would not notice that her hands had changed position. She put her back up against the radiator and stared at the door, waiting for it to open. What would she do when he came through? Would she be able to attack him? A shadow passed in front of the door and she heard the door knob begin to turn. Her grip on the glass tightened slightly and her entire body tensed in anticipation and she saw the door swing open and light poured into the room. ■

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