Heartbreaking Authors

Transcription

Suspense, Mystery, Horror and Thriller Fiction
Heartbreaking
Authors
Allison Brennan
Lisa Jackson
Tasha Alexander
Jayne Ann Krentz
Meet Debut Author
Leslie Tentler
FEMME FATALES
OF PHOENIX
with
Robin Cain
Leslie Kohler
Deborah Ledford
US $5.99 / Canada $6.99
N e e d a k i l l e r n e w re a d ?
ur thriller
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Thes
fix.
When NYC private eye Leonid McGill
is hired to check up on a vulnerable
young woman, he discovers a bloody
crime scene—and the woman gone
missing…
“The newest of the great
fictional detectives.” —Boston Globe
ALSO AVAILABLE FROM PENGUIN AUDIO
When two former agents are gunned down, CIA
agent John Wells learns that they were part of a
secret interrogation team. He must find out who is
after them—but the trail of blood leads him to a
place he couldn’t have imagined.
“A bullet-paced, psychologically engaging tale.”
—New York Times
Scotland Yard’s Richard Jury
is assigned the case of an
unidentified woman who was
murdered on the grounds of a
pub called The Black Cat. The
only witness? A black cat...
“A rollicking plot.”
—The Washington Times
The first thriller in a new series featuring
Inspector Kari Vaara—the haunted,
hardened detective who must delve into
Finland’s dark underbelly.
“Masterful.” —Michael Connelly
ALSO AVAILABLE AS E-BOOKS
j
s
Members of Penguin Group (USA)
penguin.com
CREDITS
John Raab
President&Chairman
Matt McElreath
ExecutiveVicePresident,
Marketing
Shannon Raab
CreativeDirector
Romaine Reeves
CFO
Starr Gardinier Reina
ExecutiveEditor
Terri Ann Armstrong
ExecutiveEditor
Contributors
Tiffany Colter
Donald Allen Kirch
Scott Nicholson
Mark P. Sadler
Karen Jensen
Susan Santangelo
DJ Weaver
CK Webb
Kiki Howell
John Walker
J.S. Chancellor
Kendall Gutierrez
Kaye George
Tiffany Cole
Weldon Burge
James Guy Roberts
Julie Dolcemaschio
Karolina Avalon
John H. Muller
Ashley Wintters
Carl Isonhart
Scott Pearson
D.P. Lyle M.D.
Claudia Mosley
Christopher Nadeau
Shauna Honadel
Kim Cole
Catherine Peterson
Kathleen Heady
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From the Editor
The ever-changing world of publishing is
coming, are you seeing the signs? Bookstore revenue
is declining at a rate of two to three percent per month
and Amazon is saying that the Kindle can’t stay in the
store. What does all of this mean?
Let’s look at it this way, go into a Best Buy and
look at the CD section, if you can find it. Shelf space
is down at least fifty percent from last year, while the
DVD section has been growing. Music has changed in
becoming digital; in fact I don’t even by CD’s anymore,
because I can buy my favorite albums for $5.00 less and
have it in under one minute.
This is the same thing with eBooks to printed books. The playing field is changing
and bookstores will continue to drop in sales and the total amount of books, because many
authors will publish eBooks only, simply based on the cost of printing. This is a black and
white issue.
What makes more business sense? A publisher spends a million dollar advance on
an author for their next book. The publisher then prints 500,000 books at a cost of five dollars
per book for a total of $2.5 million. Before one book is even sold the publisher has spent $3.5
million dollars on this one book and that doesn’t include marketing yet. We will round that
up to $4 million spent for this book. Now the publisher has to get the books in the store and
only get paid forty percent of the retail value of $27.95 of each book or $11.18 per book sold.
If every book sells they get a little over $5 million dollars or a profit of $1 million. But they
still have to pay the author an average of eight percent royalty. So the profit on that book is
$900,000.00 or so, not bad money but then you have to pay all your expenses from that money
to keep your business open and recover the costs of books that don’t do well.
Now look at this, take the same book and cut out the printing costs of $2.5 million,
because they decided to only eBook this title. That $900,000.00 is now at $3.4 million dollars.
What makes more sense? If you don’t think the book industry will go this way, you will be left
behind. I know that spending $140.00 dollars for a Kindle is very expensive, but that is the
cost of seven hard covers per year at Barnes and Noble. How long did it take you to buy an
iPod to hold your music?
I’m on the band wagon of digital and hope it comes sooner than later. I don’t need
to hold an actual book to love a great book. The story is the same in digital form as it is
in paper form. Music is the same way, iTunes is the same
as CD. Think about this also, how many books does a
bookstore give away? I’ve not received a free book yet from
a bookstore, but I can get a free book from Amazon for a
Kindle all the time. This is a great way to discover a new
author and expand your library of authors.
The future is all about simplicity. Make your life a
little simpler and organize your library into one little eBook
reader, instead of five hundred books sitting on shelves, in
closets, in boxes and in your garage. Heck, you will also save
the trees and help eliminate waste! The digital revolution is
coming, are you ready?
John Raab
CEO/Publisher
Nemo
SuspenseMagazine
By Kadri Umbleja
Cover
Image
"Reviews within this magazine are the opinions of the individual reviewers and are provided solely to provide readers assistanceindetermininganother'sthoughtsonthebookunderdiscussionandshallnotbeinterpretedasprofessionaladvice
ortheopinionofanyotherthantheindividualreviewer.Th
efollowingreviewerswhomayappearinthismagazinearealso
individualclientsofSuspensePublishing,animprintofSuspenseMagazine:MarkP.Sadler,StarrGardinierReinaandTerri
AnnArmstrong.”
1
IN THIS ISSUE
48
SUSPENSE MAGAZINE
February 2011 / Vol. 019
Spotlight . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Romance Takes a
Suspenseful Twist with
TASHA ALEXANDER
53
3
The Crash by Rose Sefton . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4
The Tale of the Thriller By CK Webb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
Contributor's Corner: Susan Santangelo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
9
Femme Fatales of Phoenix By Mark P. Sadler . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
12
Author HallofFame: Mary Shelly . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
15
LOVE Kills by Gary Lovisi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16
JAYNE ANN KRENTZ
Three Bestsellers
in One
58
............
19
LESLIE TENTLER: ChasingherDream . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
23
On Location: Villisca Iowa Ax Murder House by John Raab . . . . . . . . .
26
Stranger than Fiction: "Get Out" by Donald Allen Kirch
Ask Your Writing Career Coach by Tiffany Colter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
A Room at the End by Rebecca Sherman . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
32
Featured Artist Kadri Umbleja Let's her Artwork do the Talking . . . . . . 35
LISA JACKSON
Wickedly Inspired
61
ALLISON BRENNAN
Fall Prey
Inside the Pages: Suspense Magazine Book Reviews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
Suspense Magazine Movie Reviews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
Survivor Types: Indie Success Stories by Scott Nicholson . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
The Forgotten Story: Robert "Yummy" Sandifer by John H. Muller
66
My Struggle & Journey with Suspense by Karolina Avalon. . . . . . . . . . .
72
Another Highway Fatality by Weldon Burge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
74
Just for Fun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79
spot l
i
g
h
t
Murder by the Book
2342 Bissonnet Street
Houston, TX 77005
Phone: 888.4.AGATHA
www.murderbooks.com
Photo Credit: Walt Bistline 2002
Our February bookstore spotlight takes us to Houston, TX.
Murder by the Book (MBTB) has been operating since 1980
and is still going strong. You can’t go wrong with a bookstore
whose phone number is: 888-4-AGATHA.
Their website, www.murderbooks.com, lists out all events that are going on, along with lists of
great reads. This very active bookstore hosts book signings, events, monthly selection discussions,
mystery author lunch events and much more. Here are a few facts from the owners:
Martha Farrington was always a fan of murder mysteries, but in the late 1970s she found there
weren’t many places to find them. So in 1980, Martha opened one of the earliest mystery bookstores in the country. She worked to stock every mystery that was in print, including a small number imported from England. A third of the store’s space was devoted to used books.
In January 2009, MBTB manager McKenna Jordan bought the store from the retiring Martha Farrington. In the last year, they’ve dedicated energy to developing young readers, tripling the stock
in their children’s section and offering imports of children’s books that can’t be found elsewhere in
Houston. Even the paranormal fiction section has exploded.
Now, MBTB is one of the world’s largest mystery bookstores with over 3,200 hundred square-feet
devoted to new and used mystery/detective/crime/thriller/espionage/fantasy fiction. They even
import books from Australia, Ireland and England. You can order by calling (713) 524-8597 or
(888) 424-2842 or by emailing them at order@murderbooks.com.
Upcoming Signings:
Michael Kortya - February 7th, 6:30 p.m.
Deborah Coonts - February 15th, 6:30 p.m. (for the launch of Lucky Stiff )
Randy Wayne White - March 4th, 6:30 p.m.
Patricia Briggs and Kim Harrison – March 5th, 6 p.m.
Jacqueline Winspear - March 23rd, 6:30 p.m.
February
4-6 2011
LOVE IS MURDER
Chicago, IL
http://loveismurder.
net/
Alexander McCall Smith will be at the store April 5th for a luncheon event at 11 a.m.
Independent bookstores are getting thinner across America and the bigger chains are moving in
and forcing them out. Even though business is business, it is very sad that those who love books
are no longer able to help out the customers they know by name. Support your local independent
mystery/suspense bookstores and not only discover new authors, but new friends who love the
genre that keeps you up all night. 
February 5,
2011
CAPE FEAR CRIME
FESTIVAL
Wilmington, NC
http://capefearcrimefestival2.com/
3
The
Crash
By Rose Sefton
Samantha Elaine Rice was a woman of means. She wore expensive clothing, did lunches with her friends, who
called her Sam when she was in a good mood and was an avid tennis player. She had it all, including her ex-husband’s
red Jaguar, the five-bedroom house that was far too big for her and a maid to clean it. Yes, she had it all: the television
set in the living room that took up half the room, a stereo system that could be managed with a push of a button from
the kitchen, which she rarely visited and a maintenance crew for the lawn, pool, cars and anything else she needed.
Basically, all she had to do was snap her fingers and whatever she wanted arrived by special order. All the best restaurants
knew her on a first-name basis, so even without a reservation, she always got the best seat in the house. Other patrons
would be moved to accommodate her and her guests. She tipped well. Of course, her hair and nails were flawless, done to
perfection at least once a week, with a touch-up as needed by a girl who drove an old Toyota to the side entrance.
To say that Ms. Samantha Elaine Rice was a banshee was putting it mildly, but no one who wanted to stay on her good
side—and yes, she had one when it came to donations to animal charity—would call her that to her face. Queen Elizabeth
came to mind when meeting her. Commoners felt the impulse to bow or curtsey. She demanded and got respect. Perhaps
it was the way she walked, or carried her purse. The whole persona of a rich, overbearing single woman on the prowl
was intimidating. Samantha had a gold bracelet embedded with diamonds that read, ‘Bitch’. It summed up who she was.
Samantha Elaine Rice was a scorpion.
What she didn’t have was a decent sex life. Of course, gigolos were a dime a dozen in California so when and if the urge
struck her, she paid handsomely for services rendered. How else could she get someone to lick caviar off her thighs? Again,
she tipped well, so word got out that there was a rich bitch looking to get laid. She had men approaching her from all angles
until it got to be a joke. Naturally, they were all good-looking, had tight six-pack abs, trim bodies and devilish eyes. She
figured half of them were bisexual, but if they wore their boots, it didn’t matter. In fact, it made it more exciting. Sometimes
she treated herself to a sleaze motel with a janitor or truck driver, but generally, that was beneath her social status. She was
starting to get bored. A trip to Paris or Spain was in order. Spain probably. Italy on the side. Maybe Greece. Those darkskinned Mediterranean men were absolutely gorgeous. She could lose herself on a beach, let the waves wash over her and
get some sand between her toes. She could easily afford a month abroad. Samantha would be someone else, a lonely widow
struggling to make ends meet. Perhaps a dedicated, but poorly paid, secretary. It would be easy to change her identity. She
had done it dozens of times. It’s exactly what all the men in life taught her: if you want something, go get it and to hell with
the peons.
She would travel light, leave the expensive luggage at home. Samantha could certainly buy whatever she wanted or
needed on the fly and she was well-skilled in getting previously worn clothing past customs. She left LAX wearing midpriced jeans and decent walking shoes. Her carry-on bag contained only a change of clothing and nothing fancy at that.
Before she left, she put her entire collection of fine jewelry in the vault under the stairway in the basement. She was however,
flying first class. Regular or coach seating caused a retching reaction. While she had the means and opportunity to hire men
to service her, by appointment, it was totally another thing to mingle with ordinary people who didn’t shower or brush
regularly. Once seated, she ordered a drink and opened the paperback book she bought at the gift shop. By all appearances,
she was a woman traveling alone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing a little bit of turbulence, nothing to worry about. We do however, request
that you keep your seat belt fastened.”
Samantha assumed that all pilots did that to get the gratitude of the people they flew. She didn’t feel any turbulence. If
anything, it appeared to be a smooth flight. She put her sleep-pads in place, let the seat engulf her and drifted off, snuggled
under a blanket offered by the flight attendant. Before she accepted the blanket, she looked him up and down. He would do
in a pinch.
Half way across the Pacific the plane wobbled in the dark sky. Then she saw a ball of fire coming from one of the engines
4
Suspense Magazine February 2011 / Vol. 019
and for the first time in her life, she was truly scared. Turbulence, my ass, she thought. We’re going down. That water is
going to ruin my makeup.
The plane shook, danced sideways, pulled up, went into a spiral and Samantha heard the flight attendants trying to
maintain control. It was a fast spiral with purses, laptops and notebooks flying around the inside of the plane. Oxygen
masks dropped from the ceiling, swinging wildly over the passengers. Most people screamed. A few prayed. Then before she
knew it, the plane was in a fast nosedive into the deadly blackness. Everything that Samantha experienced in life taught her
to get what she wanted regardless of the price to be paid. She had it all. Now all the money and prestige in the world didn’t
stop the swift, downward spiral. Her ears popped, her mouth was open and her face was pressed into the back of the seat in
front of her. She was screaming. Still, the plane fell from the sky. It dove under the water, head first, bobbed a few times and
then rose a little. People were scrambling to kick open windows. Flight attendants were doing their best to assure safety, but
there was water coming in through the wrecked doors. Cold water. The Pacific was supposed to be warm. What the hell was
the matter with the damn ocean for God’s sake?
Someone grabbed her arm, pushed her into a life raft and held a sweater to a gash on her arm. Around her, in the inky
blackness, people were still screaming, dog-paddling to her raft. She kicked at one man who tried to haul his ass inside and
her kick was well-placed in the middle of his face.
“Ma’am, we’re all in this together. Let the man in the raft,” someone said.
They were all wet. Cold, shivering. Huddled. The plane cracked like a whip and went down as a single entity. The people
in the back of the plane never had a chance. Maybe some of them did. Samantha didn’t know. Arms and legs were flailing
around in the sea and all she could think of was Titanic.She knew that somewhere in the middle of the night above the
Pacific, the plane crashed into the ocean. Some people had their wits about them, but Samantha didn’t.
She was moaning, cursing and even managed a prayer or two, but it went something like this, “If I live through this, I’ll
sell the Jag.”
Nonetheless, she was in a raft, thanks to the kindness of whomever pushed her into it and now, by God, it was her raft.
If anyone wanted in, they would have to play by her rules. A few more soggy people climbed in, while others circled the raft,
hanging on by the ropes.
“No more,” she screamed. “It won’t hold all the weight.”
“Yes it will,” a man said.
He was about fifty-ish. A man of presence. A man of means by his Rolex.
“Hi, I hate meeting beautiful women under circumstances like this, but I’m Andrew Farrier. You my dear, are freezing.”
Samantha shuttered. Yes she was and her purse or carry-on bag was in the plane, underwater. Everything was replaceable.
However, this little, side trip definitely ruined her chances of getting laid in Greece.
“We have to huddle together for body heat. Law of survival, that sort of thing. Come here,” and with that he wrapped
her in his arms. She had a weird idea that he was trying to throw her off the raft, but gradually she calmed down enough to
lean up against him. “Hell of a mess, uh?”
“I…I…I had other plans to be honest,” she stammered.
“Didn’t we all?” Andrew Farrier seemed a decent man. He wasn’t trying to hold her head under water and he kept her
in his firm grasp. A small child wiggled into his lap as well and he stroked the child’s wet head. “What’s your name, son?”
“Benny.”
“Well, Benny, this will be some story to tell your grandchildren, won’t it. You’re safe now. We’ll be rescued, don’t
worry.”
“What about my parents?”
“They will probably be rescued too. Hush, don’t worry or cry. It’s an unfortunate event, but we’ll all get through it.”
Then as if Samantha had anything to comfort the child, he nodded in her direction. “Won’t we?”
“Of course, of course,” she muttered through tight lips that suddenly seemed glued shut.
She could not stop shaking.
“You probably don’t remember me.” Even wet, he had a smile that could slay dragons. “I was your husband’s
divorce attorney. You did a fine job whopping his financial assets into mush. He had to file bankruptcy and you got
everything. Good thing I got paid up front. You took him to the cleaners, my dear.”
Idid,didn’tI?Youdamnbetyourass,Idid.
“No, I don’t remember you.”
“Ten years ago. I believe it was your second divorce, not your most recent. You see, I followed you all this time.
Kept track of you. Internet makes it so easy these days. All the latest tools of the trade. GPS tracking devices, easyto-access phone logs, invoices, email, hacking. All the good stuff. You have become my passion, my reason to get
up every morning. You wanted it all. And now, look around you, what do you see?”
“We’re in the middle of the friggin’ Pacific, you asshole.”
2010 Short Story Submission
5
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“I’m not an asshole, and be careful, there is a child within our midst. Please watch your language.”
Samantha pulled back, only to be gripped tighter.
“This is not the time to be playing games!” she hissed. Then he did the most outlandish thing that he could. He kissed her,
stuck his tongue down her throat. “You’re out of your mind,” she screamed, her fists clenched for an all-out attack on his face.
“Yes, ma’am, certifiable. First things first, we have to get out of this mess, then, my dear, I plan to court you. You see, I’m
sort of retired now. Got disbarred, not that I’m going to bore you with the tedious details at this time, but we will be seeing a
lot of each other from now on.”
“How dare you?”
“Exactly my point. How dare me.”
“How did you know I’d be on this flight?”
“You bought your tickets on line, easy enough to see through that one. You used the name Angela Blenkenseal. Your
previous name. You left a trail a mile wide. All I had to do was book the same flight and of course, knowing that you have a
propensity for first class, that’s exactly why I was sitting behind you.” He paused, took a breath of salty air. “So what were you
going to do in Greece?”
“None of your damn business.”
She tried to free herself from his grip, but he was stronger. Obviously, he worked out.
“You’re a monster.”
“Yes, that and more. I admit it. You see, all those cute little houseboys, they were on my payroll too. We all have fantasies…
you certainly indulged mine. I had them plant bugs, video cameras behind your one-of-a-kind expensive art work. Sorry,
about the eye on the blue one in the living room. It was the only place we could get a decent connection.”
“You ruined my painting! You’re insane.”
“Yes, but it provided a wonderful opportunity to watch you and what was his name? The gardner…or was it the pool guy?
I forget. There were so many. But you, my dear, are going to be my next wife. We’re going to do absolutely everything that you
two did and more. We’re going to live happily ever after, aren’t we? I have to say it is getting colder out here, isn’t it?”
And with that he held her in a clutch-hold while they watched airplanes circling above. “See, I told you we’d be rescued.”

6
By: CK Webb
W
EBSTER’S DICTIONARY DEFINES THE WORD THRILLER AS
AS…
One that thrills; especially a work of fiction designed to hold the
interest by the use of a high degree of intrigue, adventure and/or suspense.
The thriller genre centers around a few very simple, yet necessary criteria that must be met in order to separate it from
other genres. Basically, if you have suspense, tension and excitement as the main element of a book or film, chances are it is
a thriller.
So, who was the very first man or women to pick up that quill and create a world that kept the reader on the edge of their
seat while turning the pages? The thriller genre is another where facts, arguments and speculation play a huge part in deciphering its origins. Let’s see if we can narrow it down just a bit and give some credit where credit is due.
It is widely believed in the Western world that the earliest version of the thriller was penned by Homer. "The Odyssey",
one of two Greek poems written by Homer in the latter part of the 8th century BC, contains all the needed elements of a
thriller and a plot dripping with suspense, tension and excitement.
In Homer’s "The Odyssey", or ‘epic voyage’ as it translates in English, the hero Odysseus battles for 10 long years in the
Trojan War only to spend another 10 years adrift at sea as he makes his way back home to his wife and son. What makes "The
Odyssey" a thriller is the magnitude of the foes Odysseus must face, battle and conquer on his journey and the constant barrage of nail biting scenes that unfold along the way.
Some scholars agree that "The Odyssey" was never meant to be enjoyed as a great book but rather was written as a poetic
song and therefore meant to be performed and sung rather than read.
Next stop we have, yet again, "1001 Arabian Nights". With the oldest Arabic pieces of this manuscript dating back as
far as 9th century BC, 1001 Arabian Nights contains a tale that’s origins could easily slip into the thriller genre. However,
the story of a chopped up body inside a mysterious chest and the hunt to find answers falls, more fittingly I think, into the
mystery genre.
Other thriller tales can be found in a most unlikely place, with harrowing tales of suspense and intrigue. I could easily
7
tell you of paranormal thrillers as well as revenge thrillers that can be found right inside the pages of
The Holy Bible…yes, thrillers can be found in the bible, and lots of them!
The thriller genre dates back so far that it is unlikely its precise debut in the literary world will
ever be known for certain. We can however, get some pretty clear beginnings for some of the subgenres that sprung from thrillers, and pin down the books and films that have made the thriller
genre one of the most followed in the world today.
The 1800s saw fantastic thrillers emerge and a ton of great writers would leave their mark on
the thriller genre and from their works dozens of sub genres would spring forth.
Sometime between 1844-1846, Alexandre Dumas published "The Count of Monte Cristo" in
it he highlighted the very thing that defines the genre today…the thrill. In a swashbuckling tale of
jealousy, deceit and revenge, Dumas put together what most now consider the very first ‘Revenge Thriller’.
In 1897, Bram Stoker’s "Dracula" hit the scenes and with it came a generous sprinkling of some new twists to the thriller
genre. Billed today by many as horror, "Dracula" gave us our first taste of gothic, supernatural thrills. This one novel would
ultimately spawn sub-genres that even today set the pace for some of our most loved, modern day horror and thriller tales.
In 1915, Scottish author John Buchan wrote and published his thriller, "The Thirty Nine Steps". Making huge waves in
the thriller genre, "The Thirty Nine Steps" has been seen or heard on many different mediums from radio, theatre to film.
As the thriller genre continued to make impressive strides in the literary world so too did the sub genres that came from
it. We were introduced to the modern action thriller which consisted of non-stop, fast paced, action packed thrill rides with
an unlikely hero. "First Blood" is thought to be the catalyst upon which the action thriller genre would slingshot into the
forefront of not only books but film as well.
Conspiracy thrillers emerged as sub genres and introduced us to the likes of Robert Ludlum, James Grady and David
Baldacci.
Crime thrillers became all the rage and authors such as Cormac McCarthy, Thomas Harris and of course James Patterson
left and continue to leave their indelible mark on the thriller genre.
Two of my personal favorites, sub genres loaded with big talent, are mystery thrillers and psychological thrillers. Just
mentioning names like Alfred Hitchcock, Steven King, Dennis Lehane and M. Night Shyamalan should be enough incentive
to get lovers of the thrill looking to these sub genres for their next nail biter.
But if you think these few sub genres are all there are to choose from…think again. Disaster, Erotic, Legal, Medical, Religious, Supernatural and even Techno thrillers all contain one central connection…they are designed to hold your interest
and keep you on the edge of your seat. They are all able to do this by writing fast paced, high-octane suspense stories that
keep readers coming back again and again.
From books and movies to television, thrillers have become one of the largest and most followed genres worldwide.
Thrillers also rank among the highest grossing in sales of all the genres out there.
2010 has been quite a year for thrillers and authors such as Stephen King, Justin Cronin, Gregg Olsen and Joe Hill are just
a few who have given us a taste of their unique voices and exciting style.
Everyday new authors are emerging (raises hand) and attempting to make their mark on this ever growing and
evolving literary staple.
Like daring trips we take to amusement parks in order to brave giant, twisting, turning,
heart stopping roller coasters, thrillers draw us in and keep us coming back over and over.
We simply cannot get enough of living on the edge. As long as authors are willing to step
up their game and push the limits of the genre, thrillers will continue to do exactly what we
clamor for…thrill.
Though the beginnings of the thriller are a bit cloudy one fact remains undeniable, the
tale of the thriller is one that is written in history and that will continue to expand and be with
us, no doubt, for many years to come. 
8
Susan
By: Suspense Magazine
ALTHOUGH SUSAN SANTANGELO HAS ONLY ONE
BOOK—at the moment—to her credit, she has made a huge splash in the
literary community as well as with SuspenseMagazine as a contributor. We
met Susan when reading her cozy “Retirement can be Murder”. She has
quickly become one of our favorite book reviewers with her light-hearted
banter leaking into her work, making for some of the most enjoyable
reading in our publication.
With wit, charm and a monster-sized dose of reality, in the eyes
of Carol, her protagonist, Susan brings baby boomers to the forefront of readers’
minds and perfectly portrays the over sixty crowd as anything but crotchety and
useless.
On her page at http://www.babyboomermysteries.com, Susan says it
best. To quote her, she tells us, “Since January 1, 2006, Baby Boomers like me
are turning sixty at the rate of eight thousand a day, and coming face to face
Pictured From Left 1) Susan at Work 2) with how to define and re-define our “golden” years. Being part of this national
Boomerat10-weeks-old(he'snow10months phenomenon inspired me to write this mystery series. The first book “Retirement
old)andTucker,whois141/2
Can Be Murder”, tackles the potential emotional impact of retirement on a typical
Baby Boomer couple, Jim and Carol Andrews. Carol dreads Jim’s impending
retirement more than a root canal without Novocain. She can’t imagine anything worse than an at-home husband with time
on his hands and nothing to fill it—except interfering in the day-to-day activities of their household and driving her crazy.
Her plans to stall Jim’s retirement result in her husband being suspected of murdering his retirement coach.”
Susan has been a feature writer, drama critic and editor for daily and weekly newspapers and magazines in
the New York metropolitan area including a stint at Cosmopolitan Magazine.
The mother of two sons, Mark and David and grandmother to Jacob and Rebecca, Susan
divides her time between West Dennis, Massachusetts and the Connecticut
shoreline. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and the Cape Cod Writers
Center and also reviews mysteries for Suspense Magazine. She shares her life
with her husband Joe and three English cocker spaniels: Tucker, Lucy and
new puppy, Boomer.
A portion of the sales from “Retirement can be Murder” is donated
to the Breast Cancer Survival Center, a non-profit organization based in
Connecticut, which Susan founded in 1999 after being diagnosed with
9
cancer herself.
The second book in the baby-boomer series, “Moving can be Murder” will be published this spring.
For February’s Contributor’s Corner feature, we took a couple of minutes of Susan’s time to find out a little bit about
her and we are confident you’ll find Susan as enjoyable as we do.
SuspenseMagazine(S. MAG.): What got you interested in SuspenseMagazine?
Susan Santangelo (SS): I’macard-carryingmemberofSistersinCrime,otherwiseknownasSiNC,thenationalwomen’smystery
writers’organization.Whenmyfirstcozymysterywaspublishedin2009,IwaseagertofindsitestopromoteitandSiNC’sdaily
digestwasveryhelpful.OneofthesitesthatcameupfrequentlyfornewbieauthorslikemewasSuspenseMagazine.Ichecked
outthesiteandsignedon.Th
enIgotane-mailsayingthemagazinewaslookingfornewreviewers.I“auditioned”and,asthe
sayinggoes,therestishistory.
S. MAG.: In “Retirement can be Murder” Carol was slightly (laughing here) sarcastic to Jim and when speaking about him,
where does the wit come from?
SS: Ihavetoconfess,I’vebeenaccusedofhavingasarcasticstreakforyears.I’msurethat’scarriedoverintomywriting.Infact,
Irecentlywentbacktomycollegeforareunion.Backinthosedays,Iwroteforthecollegenewspaper,Th
eTarge.Myassignment
wasacolumncalled“SineQuaNon,”atongue-in-cheekcommentaryoncollegelife,which
Iwroteanonymously.WhenIlookedatmyoldcolumns,Iwasamazedto
findthatmywritingstylethenwasthesameasitisnow.SoIeitherfound
my“voice”veryearlyinmylife,orI’macaseofarresteddevelopment.You
readersgettopick.Oh,onemorething.MyPersonalBeloved,husbandJoe
andIweremarriedonAprilFool’sDaymorethanfortyyearsago.Th
ank
goodnesshehasagoodsenseofhumor.
S. MAG.: You wrote one of the best cozies we’ve ever read. What one piece
of advice would you give authors who are new to writing?
SS: I’vebeenaskedthisquestionbefore,butitalwayssurprisesmebecause,even
thoughI’vewrittennon-fictionforyears,theBabyBoomermysteriesaremyfirst
forayintofiction.Mybestadvicewouldbe…write!Writealittleeveryday.Write
foryourself.Don’tworryifit’snotperfect.Justwrite!IwritethekindofbooksI
wanttoreadandifotherpeoplelikethemtoo,that’sabonus.I’mmyfirstreader
andmyworstcritic.ButIjustkeeponwriting.
S. MAG.: What book changed your life?
SS: I’vereadsomanywonderfulbooksovertheyears.Ihavetosaythatthebookthatchangedmylifewas“Th
eSecretofTh
eOld
Clock”,aNancyDrewmystery.Mygodmother,MazieBloom,wasanavidmysteryreaderandgavemethatbookforChristmas
whenIwaseight-years-old.Ijustlovedit.IgothookedonmysteriesataprettyearlyageandnowI’mwritingthem.How‘bout
that?
With cozies gaining popularity, Susan’s making her mark with her unique style and witty humor. Being a baby
boomer, she could have easily sat in a rocking chair and watched life go by at a time when retirement is considered a
dirty word, but she didn’t. She moves through life with ease and gives us a wonderfully funny, enjoyable front seat to her
imagination and we are better for it.
To order Susan’s book, check out “Retirement can be Murder” on Amazon.com. You can read reviews and order a
copy for yourself.
We thank Susan for allowing us a small glimpse inside her psyche and life. If you haven’t read her work, when you
do, you will find everything beautiful, funny and even sparkly between the covers of her book. 
10
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Femme Fatales
of
PHOENIX
By Mark P. Sadler
In the spring of 2009, when I first researched ways to find an agent for my then recently completed novel “Blood
on his Hands”, one of the questions I was repeatedly asked required I become familiar with similar novels on the market
in order to get a sense of how the competition was doing in the genre I was writing, that of suspense, mystery or thriller.
Well I struggled trying to compare my debut offering with the likes of King, Patterson and Crace trying to find the elusive
similarity that was demanded of me.
It was during this search when I went in a different direction and looked for other debut novelists, perhaps
self-published too and on a more local level. Perhaps here I would find a truer measure of what my competition was to
be. My research led me up Interstate 10 from Tucson’s laid back pueblo to the sprawling
metropolis of suburbia, Phoenix. It was here where I discovered three, wonderful authors
whom I want to introduce to the readers of SuspenseMagazineso we can all share in their
successes.
Robin Cain, author of “When Dreams Bleed”, and I sat down for breakfast together
one morning in May, 2009 while she was visiting friends in Oro Valley and discussed
our writing dilemmas. My novel had just gone to press and hers was due out the
following week. Our paths to production crossed similar trails trying to land that
ever elusive agent and since we were both new to the process, shared our thoughts.
I later learned that Robin often envisions new people she meets in a future story, so
perhaps she wrote something of our meeting down on one of her scraps of paper
she uses for notes to remember interesting points and people when out and about.
Something of a wordsmith, this demure red-head has donated a percentage of
the profits from sales of “When Dreams Bleed” to a non-profit organization To
12
WriteLoveonHerArms to present hope and find help for people struggling
with problems such as depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide.
From her Scottsdale home, inhabited by her family which includes her
husband, daughter, three dogs, three horses and a donkey, Robin also is
actively attempting to solve all the world's problems, one blog at a time.
She regularly contributes to her blog at http://robincain.wordpress.
com as well as examining the dynamics of human relationships in her
regular online commentary with Examiner.com. Whether the topic is sex,
marriage, divorce, motherhood or friendship, Robin takes on the issues of
expectations, illusions and experiences. Her lifelong love of writing is selfevident in her column that challenges her readers to think deeply on today’s
current issues. I am very happy to present my review of “When Dreams
Bleed” to you today. She assures me that a sequel is in the works and that
she also has another book, a woman’s fiction piece dealing with the tough
choices women have had to make over the years, one of which will be in
print in 2011.
Leslie Kohler's Arizona-based novel “Sins of the Border”, was reviewed
in SuspenseMagazine(Issue #14, August 2010). “Sins of the Border” deals
with the timely issue of migrant border problems. At first meeting, Leslie
does not come off as your typical activist. With her small, bird-like figure,
she is your standard Scottsdale mom, fashion sense and all. However, she
has also donned khakis and hiked through the desert with the organization
NoMoreDeaths, putting out water supplies for thirsty travelers. She is also
active in organizations which serve to enhance the lives of women and
children and as a runner, has completed several half marathons to raise
money for special needs children and youth at risk in the Phoenix area.
I first met Leslie at the Festival of Books held in Tucson last year where
she was promoting “Sins of the Border” with a drawing for a free bottle of
wine. Her protagonist, Lila would have been proud. When I caught up with
Leslie again a couple of weeks ago at an author
event at the Scottsdale Library, she told me she
has been keeping busy promoting her novel and
just returned from a presentation at the Friends
oftheLibrary in Casa Grande, AZ and was now
planning on presenting “Sins on the Border”
at the California School Library Association in
Sacramento and is scheduled to make
a presentation before the International
Women’sClub in Phoenix this Spring.
Check out her website to see what she
is doing now, http://lesliekohler.com. I
asked Leslie to tell us a little about her
current work and Suspense Magazine
will bring you a first look at “Disposable
Lives”
Lives”, a Tigeresque-style philandering
Suspense Magazine
Review of “When Dreams
Bleed” by
Robin Cain:
Robin Cain successfully weaves a path
through the high-profile buzz of Hollywood and the technology business
world of California dot-coms to give
us an in depth, behind-the-scenes view
of high-profile business that we mere
mortals normally only catch a glimpse
of in the pages of People or US Weekly.
Frank Campelletti certainly has found
the fame and fortune that eludes most of
us as he heads up a successful software
company, MineWare, in California’s
Silicon Valley. In this tale of obsession
we are introduced to the women in his
life, Sadie and Citra. Both are powerful
women in their own right and it is not
long before they have stamped a presence on Frank, both in business and in
bed. The too-perfect world crumbles
in delusion as the affairs and the bodies stack up. Cain leads us through the
mystery, challenging our ability to hang
in there and second guess her, as her
characters have their way with us and
each other.
Cain's debut novel is a well-told tale,
leaving us with an understanding of
her writing influences. We do get a little
distracted by characters that she builds
up only to not use again, Jean the waitress or Hank the security guard, but
perhaps that is meant as somewhat of
the red-herring or just her enthusiasm
for building the complete picture. In
any case, it is not enough of a distraction to pull us from this tale of glory,
fame and fortune.
“When Dreams Bleed” will leave you
gasping as the mystery deepens with
every turn of the page and gives you
enough of a twist in the end to make
you look back through it for a second
read trying to find clues you missed the
first time.
Reviewed by Mark Sadler, author of
“Blood on His Hands”, published by
Suspense Publishing, an imprint of
SuspenseMagazine 
13
Suspense Magazine
Review of “Snare” by
Deborah J. Ledford:
Having written and performed her
songs as a recording artist, Salvo’s agent
Petra Sullivan has prepared the reclusive singer to meet her adoring public
for the first time in the heart of Appalachia, a small theatre in Bryson City,
North Carolina. The concert is sold out
and the local Sheriff appoints Deputy
Steven Hawk to handle all security issues. Hawk’s preparation for the concert
reveals that Salvo’s delayed introduction to the public has been because of
her reluctance to have her private life
peered into by journalists and paparazzi
as she has a secret. Her father has been
released from jail (for the murder of her
mother) the week of the concert and
is considered to be behind the death
threats that the young singer has been
receiving.
Salvo had been raised on the reservation by her mother’s people on the Taos
Pueblo along the plains of New Mexico
and is the first of her tribe to be recognized for her musical talent. It is to her
aunt’s house that Salvo runs, needing a
place to hide after the attempt on her
life at the concert that left her petrified
and estranged from her manager and
left Deputy Hawk injured in his attempt
to protect her from a malicious, Native
American presence at the concert, the
appearance of her uncle, Taima.
Is it her revengeful father, the ghostly
appearances of her uncle or the tribal
drum beat itself that sound the death
knell for Salvo? And will Hawk, in Ledford’s second in a trilogy featuring the
young African American deputy from
North Carolina, be up to the task to
protect Salvo from the snare he has inadvertently placed her in by bring her
home to the Taos Pueblo?
Reviewed by Mark Sadler, author of
“Blood on His Hands”, published by
Suspense Publishing, an imprint of
SuspenseMagazine 
14
golfer, who in this case turns up dead, while the protagonist Maggie
probes beyond the police inquiry to find the killer. Leslie swears blind that
the work on this book started well over three years ago and the headlines
should have been hers not Tiger Woods. We will be here with an exclusive
first-look as soon as “Disposable Lives” is ready for publication.
Deborah Ledford has the jump on all of us though. Having debuted
with “Staccato” last year she has just come
out with “Snare”, her second in the Steven
Hawk/Inola Walela Th
riller Trilogy and I am
glad to tell you that we at SuspenseMagazine
have the first look at the new novel today. As
well as already having her second novel out,
Ledford is the more accomplished of the three
competitors that I met as she already has
a publisher and has had several short
stories in anthologies such as “Medley
of Murder”, “Map of Murder”, “How
NOT to Survive a Vacation” and “How
NOT to Survive the Holidays”. She has
also been nominated three times for
the Pushcart Prize in the short story
category for her contributions. We had
met some time ago through Facebook
and when I met up with her at the Scottsdale Library author event in
November, she had been part of a panel discussing writing techniques
for an audience of beginning authors. Her new trilogy takes place against
a backdrop of the Great Smokey Mountains of North Carolina. Ledford
pulls on her ancestral heritage as a Cherokee Indian to bring us thrills
and suspense that delve into not only Native Indian lore, but also popular
music. You can keep up with her at her website http://deborahjledford.
com.
Ledford considered a career as a cinematographer before deciding to
write and draws on her background in screen writing and production
and as a scenic artist on motion pictures, to paint us the flowing details
of her stories and I am very happy to present my review of “Snare” to you
today. When she is not writing she is still a keen photographer and enjoys
hiking with her two Australian Shepherds.
I hope that meeting these femmefatales of Phoenix will provoke
in you the need to find those competitors for your novels, whether you
are researching writers to fulfill your agent-to-be’s desire for knowledge
or whether you are a seasoned writer finding out what challenges you are
about to face by that next-to-be on the NewYorkTimes bestseller list. 
MARY SHELLY
By: Suspense Magazine
Few books can stand the test of time, and it is even rarer that one lasts one
hundred ninety-two years and still inspires the great authors of today. Besides “Dracula”,
Mary Shelly's “Frankenstein” is probably one of the most inspired pieces of fiction still
written about today.
Mary Shelly is the February 2011 Suspense Magazine Hall of Fame inductee.
Mary Shelly penned the great novel, romantic thriller “Frankenstein” in 1818. The one
problem over time is that “Frankenstein” has been changed incorrectly. “Frankenstein”
is not the big green monster that we think of today, but actually the doctor who created
the monster.
significant romantic writer.
Even though Mary was taken seriously as a writer, it was not until 1945 that
her letters were published by editor Frederick Jones and showed the importance of
her writing. 1980 was when Betty Bennett
published the first volume of her completed
letters. Scholars now consider Mary Shelly a
Mary was born August 30, 1797 and died on February 1, 1851. She not only
wrote “Frankenstein” but many other novels and short stories. Many of these had
very strong political undertones that were missed for many years. Her other works
include: historical novels like “Valperga” and “Perkin Warbeck”, along with “The
Last Man”, “Lodore” and “Falkner”. Each book shows Mary’s diversity in writing
and why she is one of the best writers the world has seen.
Author Dean Koontz has taken the reigns to
continue the “Frankenstein” series, which brings a
new modern approach to the classic story. We are
very proud to induct Mary Shelly into the Suspense
Magazine Hall of Fame for February 2011. 
Pictured From Left: 1)MaryShelly,RichardRothwell
1840NationalPortraitGallery,London2)Wollstonecraft/ShelleyGrave3)FrankensteinDraft1816
15
O
E
L v
I
L
K L S
By Gary Lovisi
T
oday the group was listening to another heartwrenching story of violence perpetuated against
women by men. Janet and her ten, female companions formed
this support group to aid battered women. Their mission:
to outsource positive emotions and healing through group
therapy discussions to victims of violence from boyfriends
and husbands. The anger in the room just then, even hatred,
was growing second by second with each word the young
woman standing up front spoke. Outrage becoming a palpable
creature in their midst. This latest victim was named Sandy, a
petite, blonde housewife from Scarsdale. Nice home…not so
nice husband. Not her fault, really. In fact, none of this was
her fault, she just picked the wrong guy like so many women
have.
His name was Roger. He was a bad one.
“The hitting didn’t start until a month after we were
married,” Sandy said bravely holding back her tears.
She nervously dredged up the horrible memories, seeing
it all and reliving it in her mind, her terror mirrored in the
angry faces of the ten, young women who were listening to
her so earnestly.
“We got through the honeymoon without any incident.
Roger gave me that saving grace, at least.”
Sandy suddenly broke down in tears. Janet, the leader of
the group came over and tried to comfort her.
Women in the audience grew angrier, curses flew,
“Bastard! Men are all bastards!”
“The first time,” Sandy continued bravely, regaining her
composure, “he only broke my nose. There was a lot of blood,
so much blood. I was terrified. He never gave me a reason or
told me what I did wrong. Another time he broke my arm and
leg. None of that was as bad as when he threw me down the
stairs. Roger told me it was because I had become a ‘fucking,
fat bitch’ by getting myself pregnant with his child. I lost the
baby…”
Sandy broke down as a growl of outrage grew from the
throats of the women, followed by a moan of deep sympathy,
for many of these women had also gone through the same
16
horrors.
“I really wanted that baby, oh god…” Sandy stammered,
fighting bravely to regain control.
“Do you want to stop? Take a break?” Janet asked softly.
Sandy took a deep breath, steeled herself, “No, I want to
get through it, finish it.”
“You’re a brave woman,” Janet said.
The other women applauded Sandy for confronting her
horror.
“The beatings had been going on for months, any day,
any time, for no apparent reason. I know he blamed me for
losing the baby. Roger wouldn’t let me go out, nor meet with
my friends or family.”
“Typical male control freak!” one of the women shouted.
Sandy continued, “He wouldn’t allow me to leave him
either. He said he’d kill me, that he’d rather see me dead than
with someone else. When the police questioned Roger about
my ‘accident’ falling down the steps—the hospital reported
older broken bones on my x-rays consistent with physical
abuse—he blew a fuse. That night he came home and beat me
so badly I had to be rushed to the hospital emergency room.”
There were sighs and cries of rage from the women, Janet
motioned them to be silent so the speaker could continue her
story uninterrupted.
“Finally,” Sandy sighed, “I just couldn’t take it anymore. I
did not go back home. I’m in a shelter now…”
Some women nodded knowingly, others cheered her,
shouting words of encouragement and empowerment. Sandy
smiled awkwardly.
“…but now Roger is after me, stalking me. He told me he
would kill me.” Sandy blurted, full of terror and allowing it to
show now. “I have an order of protection against him, but…”
“We all know how that goes!” someone from the group
responded.
Shouts of agreement accompanied her words.
Sandy nodded sadly, she stood in front of the group like
a deer caught in the headlights, like someone who knew she
was doomed and was just waiting for the executioner’s ax to
fall.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the room once the young woman
finished telling her tale.
They took Sandy back to her safe house, then they got
down to business.
“Well, ladies, are we going to help Sandy with her
problem?” Janet asked, for now a private meeting of L.O.V.E.
(Ladies Overcoming Violent Exploiters) was in session…
“I think Sandy needs to know that she is not alone in
this,” a heavyset woman named Amanda said forcefully.
She wore an eye-patch, covering the eye her husband
poked out with a screwdriver. He was in prison now, where
he belonged. Amanda hated men and hated husbands in
particular.
“All right ladies, so let me see a show of hands,” Janet
asked carefully.
Ten hands flew into the air.
“Then it’s unanimous.”
Three nights later a friend of Roger’s let it drop were his
runaway wife Sandy could be found. She was living alone in a
house at 124 Mercer Street.
Roger made his way to the front door. This abuser
certainly seemed bold, so cocksure, self-confident like all men
when confronting a lone and helpless female. He walked right
up to the front door of 124 Mercer and calmly rang the bell.
“Sandy? Sandy, I know you’re in there. Open up! I just
want to talk to you.”
The door slowly opened, inside was dark and no one
seemed to be there.
No sooner had Roger walked inside when he was stunned
by a sudden blow to the head. The door was slammed shut
behind him and a dozen pairs of grasping hands pummeled
him with baseball bats and fists. Blows reigned down on
Roger mercilessly as he cried out in pain, pleading for them to
let him go, to stop hitting him. His face was scratched bloody
by long nails while hard blows beat him into submission and
then unconsciousness.
Roger awoke in a bed in Mercy Hospital, but by the looks
of him his attackers had shown no mercy at all. He was in
what amounted to an almost full body cast with multiple
broken bones, fractures, sprains and contusions. His nose was
broken, an eye was covered in gauze and oozed green pus and
a feeding tube ran in his nose and down his throat while the
ventilator was all that was enabling him to breath. That wasn’t
the worst of it by a long shot. The doctors said the extent of
blunt-force trauma indicated serious internal injuries and he
would be going back into surgery soon to stem more bleeding.
Sandy sat close by, looking down at Roger. Whether he
knew she was there or not was unknown, so bad was the
extent of his injuries. Sandy smiled for she could see that
Roger was not long for this world. Once he kicked off, all
his money would be hers exclusively. She couldn’t believe
her good fortune. This turned out so much better than the
mere fifty-fifty split of the bitter divorce she planned. Better
yet, she now would be able to cut out all those annoying and
expensive lawyer fees, two hundred dollars per hour bills for
expert witnesses on abuse and victimization. Who needed
that? Sandy didn’t know who attacked Roger, but she was
thankful.
Roger moaned painfully, Sandy whispered, “Don’t worry,
honey, it will all be over soon.”
The next day Janet and the sisters of L.O.V.E. received a
visit from Roger’s sisters, Gloria and Cathy.
“We heard that Roger’s wife, Sandy, came to talk to your
support group,” Gloria said with obvious distress and Janet
didn’t deny the fact. “We wanted to tell you our side of the
story. Roger is a good man, he was a wonderful husband
and Sandy made up all those vile accusations so when she
divorced him she could play the victim and win a big part of
his estate in the settlement. Now, it seems, it will all be hers.”
“You people should really be more careful who you
believe and what’s told to you,” Cathy, the younger sister said
in anger. “Do you verify anything? Do you just accept any
wild, unsubstantiated story some woman having marital
troubles or involved in a child custody dispute tells you?
Women lie too and Sandy is a liar.”
Janet flushed angry then grew thoughtful. Had they made
a mistake? She looked carefully at the two young women
confronting her now. They appeared sincere, truthful…sane.
“We did see the police reports and Sandy had an order
of protection against your brother. I can assure you Sandy’s
fear was real enough, all of us here have gone through similar
victimization from men and can relate to what she went
through.”
Cathy laughed derisively, “Sandy faked the fall, she never
wanted that baby. Roger was the happy one when Sandy got
pregnant, he doted over her so. He wanted that baby more
than anything in the world.”
Gloria said, “Sandy told me she hated what the baby was
doing to her figure. I know she murdered that baby!”
“Now hold on!” Janet said trying to get control of the
situation.
“Sandy’s ‘fall,’” Cathy blurted, “and other injuries were
all made up. She got that broken arm and leg from a skiing
accident shortly before she met Roger.”
Gloria added, “And you know any woman can go to any
judge to have an order of protection granted. The mere fact
17
one is granted means nothing. It’s only later during the trial
that the man even has a chance to defend himself and demand
the woman substantiates her accusations.”
Janet nodded to the truth of that, but said nothing more,
allowing the man’s sisters to talk through their anger and
feelings. Of course they were bitter, she thought, but…
“And as for Sandy being so scared of Roger and fearful for
her life—Roger, who by the way, wouldn’t hurt a fly—that was
her usual, excellent acting job. She is using you, just like she
used Roger and he didn’t want to believe it either.”
“Roger didn’t deserve that evil Sandy, or that beating. He
will probably die from it. Sandy probably hired them, she’s
just the type to do that sort of thing.” The other sister said. “If
my sister and I ever find out who did that to Roger we’ll see to
it they’re in prison for the rest of their lives.”
Janet didn’t say much when the sisters left, but they had
given her a lot to think about. Had her valiant band of overzealous sisters been duped? Was Sandy the aggressor and the
abuser, while Roger was the true victim? It seemed impossible
to Janet, but the thought nagged at her inner and most basic
instincts. Had they made a terrible mistake? Janet resolved to
find out.
Janet met Sandy alone a few nights later at the empty
L.O.V.E. offices where she hoped to get some answers.
“It’s just the two of us here, we’re alone,” Janet said,
offering the younger woman a seat at the conference table.
Sandy stood, nervous, anxious.
“You said you had something important to tell me?” she
asked.
“Yes,” Janet said, taking a deep breath, for she knew once
she began this, who knew where it might lead. Perhaps prison
for her and the girls and the end of L.O.V.E. itself? “I spoke to
Roger’s sisters the other day and they…”
“Those witches!”
“They told me quite a different story of the relationship
between you and Roger.”
“I’ll bet! It’s all lies,” Sandy said carefully. “Why are you
asking me these questions anyway? You’re supposed to be my
support group. You’re supposed to be on my side?”
“We are on your side, Sandy. More than you could ever
know.”
Sandy looked at Janet deeply, curious, “Well then, why
don’t you act like it!”
Janet said it short and simple, “It was my ladies—
L.O.V.E.—who put Roger in the hospital.”
Sandy looked back at Janet with genuine shock and then
began to laugh wildly at the admission.
“And here I thought it was just a mugger, or some guy
Roger owed money to for gambling! So it was you and the
L.O.V.E. girls? That’s precious!”
“So you see, Sandy, we really are on your side.”
18
Sandy smiled, this was just too good to be true and better
yet, Janet’s admission placed her and all of her girls under
Sandy’s thumb now.
“This is priceless!”
“Yes, I thought you’d be happy to hear the truth about
how Roger caught his beating.”
“Well, good, I’m damn glad to hear it. I just hope you
made the little wimp squirm. Did he cry out? Was he in pain?”
“Yes,” Janet said softly, “he cried out and he was in terrible
pain.”
Sandy’s cold and bloodthirsty laugh was terrible to hear.
“Did he ask for… mercy?”
“Yes, he did,” Janet replied soaking in the younger
woman’s words and demeanor and not liking any of it one bit.
But Janet still had to get to the bottom of this, she needed
to hear it all from Sandy’s own lips.
“Good,” Sandy said confident now. “That’s the only kind
of support group that’s really effective. The revenge type. So
now that I know what you and the girls did…”
“It’s truth time, Sandy. Now I want to know if any of what
you told me and the girls about Roger was true?”
Sandy laughed boldly confident.
She shrugged unconcerned, “Sure, I guess I can tell you
now. It was all made up. None of it was true. I planned to get
a large chunk of Roger’s wealth all along, but now, after your
attack, he’s not expected to live much longer. Now I’ll get it
all. But don’t think I’m not appreciative, and I’ll keep your
little secret, if you keep mine. I’ll even give L.O.V.E. a sizeable
donation once I get my money.”
Janet smiled, “Well, then, that’s all I really wanted to
know, Sandy, because you know it’s important that the good
work we do here at L.O.V.E. continues. I hope you agree.”
“Absolutely,” Sandy replied. Then the two women shook
hands and went their separate ways.
Sandy proved as good as her word. A month after Roger
passed away, Janet received an impressive five-figure check
made out to the Ladies Overcoming Violent Exploiters nonprofit organization.
That night as Sandy took the private elevator in her
new apartment building down to the garage where her new
Mercedes was parked, she was surprised to see a woman she
recognized standing beside her car.
“Janet? What are you doing here?”
“Unfinished business, my darling,” then Janet withdrew a
stun gun that shot a massive bolt of electricity into Sandy that
quite painfully incapacitated her. Sandy collapsed, helpless,
unable to speak.
“All right ladies,” Janet called.
From out of the shadows, from behind parked cars, came
Roger’s sisters, Gloria and Cathy. Both of whom were holding
baseball bats, as they closed in on Sandy. 
“Get Out!”
The Story Behind The
Amityville Horror
By: Donald Allen Kirch
On a rather mild November night in 1974, at around 6:30 in the evening, a small, New
York town’s perspective upon the world suddenly changed. Twenty-three-year-old Ronald
Defeo, Jr. entered Henry’sBar, a local watering hole and proclaimed with an ashen face, “You
got to help me! I think my mother and father are shot!” Some in the bar, having known Defeo,
gathered up the courage to walk with him, just a few blocks down the street, to a Dutch
Colonial home located at 112 Ocean Avenue. The home belonged to the Defeo family since
the early months of 1965. They were all well-known. They were all liked.
Upon entering the home, a few of Ronald Defeo’s bar friends were horrified to learn
that the young man had been correct. His parents were dead and it appeared to be murder.
Someone made an emergency call to the Suffolk County Police demanding a unit to further
investigate. When fully searched, the house contained six bodies. All were killed in their beds.
The victims had all been shot with a lever action Marlin 336C rifle. By all evidence, they
had been murdered at or around 3:15 a.m. of that same day. The parents Ronald Defeo, Sr.
(43) and Louise Defeo (42) had both been shot twice. The children: Dawn (18); Allison (13);
Marc (12) and John Matthew (9), all appeared resting in bed. In fact, all the victims within the
house were found resting upon their stomachs.
There is a slight suggestion which made some
believe that both Louise and her daughter
Allison had been the only two awakened by the
murdering assault. But this theory is just that.
Item: How is it possible that six people
could remain asleep while the others in their
house were being shot with a loud and powerful
hunting rifle?
Item: 112 Ocean Avenue is within a close
community of fashionable homes. No one Pictured From Left: 1)
Th
eHouseasitAppears
heard a single shot.
Today2)Original1979
Item: The Suffolk County Coroner found Movie Poster for The
no drugs or alcohol within the bodies of those AmityvilleHorror
killed.
19
Upon the discovery of his murdered family, Ronald
Defeo, Jr. stated to the police that his father had been involved
with some local mobsters and that he was certain, if they
knew he was still alive, they would come after him. Defeo
was immediately placed into protective custody and taken
down to the local police station. After several interviews,
inconsistencies in his story and within the timeline
surrounding the murders, Ronald Defeo’s innocence was
questioned. The following day, he confessed. He killed his
entire family.
He told detectives, “Once I started, I just couldn’t stop.
It went so fast.”
112 Ocean Avenue would later be known as the house in
“The Amityville Horror.”
Even before the famous novel and before the
controversial stories, the property upon which the house had
been raised had always
been considered…bad.
“Once I
started,
I just
couldn’t
stop. It
went so
fast.”
During his trial,
Defeo tried to plea
insanity. His defense
lawyer told stories of an
argumentative family
and of a confused
son who tried to ease
himself off his heroin
and LSD trips. There
had been reported
cases of Defeo hearing
voices, ordering him
to commit the crimes.
Of strange images of
demons and evil faces
taunting him during
the night. Defeo once
claimed, that before the killings, a man with “black hands”
gave him the lethal weapon to start killing with. Although
interesting, one must also acknowledge that Defeo himself
has changed his stories several times. There are as many
versions of “what happened” as there are “Amityville
Horror” movies!
All the “ghost stories” didn’t work. On November
21, 1975, Defeo was found guilty and sentenced to six
consecutive 25 to life terms. He is currently being held
within Green Haven Correctional Facility, in Beekman,
New York. All his appeals to the state parole board have
been turned down.
Still, the murders held within them some “abnormal”
details…
All six victims were found in their beds, lying on their
20
stomachs. All appeared to be
peaceful and could have awakened
quite easily, upon hearing the
sounds of a rifle being fired. It
was this simple fact and that no
drugs had been found within their
systems that have made police
and locals puzzle over the case.
From ballistic tests, there was no
evidence of a silencer being used,
or that the rifle in question even
had the fittings needed to have one.
Ronald Defeo, Jr.
There was a theory that Defeo Claimed to Have Heard
Voices in the House
had an accomplice, but no evidence
has come forth supporting such
a notion. During a recent interview, Defeo stated that his
sister Dawn helped him, hoping to profit from her parents'
deaths, but one should strongly “consider the source”. Defeo
has been known to be both charming and demanding,
constantly threatening to sue those he cannot subjugate.
Then, came the cold December of 1975…
Thirteen months after the horrible murders that shook
Amityville, George and Kathleen Lutz made a humble offer
of eighty thousand dollars for the house. Needless to say, the
offer was instantly taken by the broker handling the property,
but by state laws, both had to be informed about the house’s
horrible history. Upon further thought, neither George nor
Kathleen considered the matter a serious one. Having only
been married for a couple of months, the Lutzes needed a
place to help start up a new family.
Kathleen noticed a small sign hanging from the front
yard lamp which had read “High Hopes.” With her three
children from a previous marriage, Daniel (9), Christopher
(7) and Melissa (5), she was “hoping” for the best.
The Lutz family moved into the home on December 23,
1975.
What followed next, as reported by the Lutzes in their
book, were twenty-eight days of para-psychological horror
unequaled in the realms of ghostly attacks…
Upon moving into the house, most of the personal
belongings of the Defeo Family had been included with the
price of the home. So if one believes in psychometry, the
belief of inanimate objects absorbing the energies around
them, then 112 Ocean Avenue had been fully charged.
Learning of the house’s dark past, a friend of George’s
insisted that the home be blessed. Mr. Lutz, knowing a local
Catholic priest, asked the man to take on the task of placing
his new home upon a more peaceful, spiritual path.
So it was on the very day the Lutzes decided to move
into their home, the priest arrived to do his duty. While
out in the backyard, enjoying a private moment with their
children, the priest started his blessings.
What happened next has been debated to this day…
While in a room Kathleen decided to use as a future
sewing room, the priest heard a rather masculine voice
order him to “Get out!” There was accompanied with the
order a foul smell and a rather physical slap upon the priest’s
face. The priest left without announcing his presence to the
Lutzes.
Later, the man telephoned George and Kathleen,
warning them to stay out of the sewing room as much as
possible. The sewing room, it was later discovered, had been
the bedroom of both Marc and John Matthew Defeo.
From that moment on, the Lutzes encountered several,
if not questionable, experiences:
Item: George had been constantly awakened in the
course of the night to the sounds of the front door opening
and slamming shut. Upon investigation, he only saw their
dog “Harry” asleep, peacefully, upon the front room rug.
Item: Upon several occasions, Kathleen would feel
herself being “embraced” by unseen forces.
Item: The house was plagued with swarms of flies in the
middle of winter.
Item: George would find himself waking up at 3:15
a.m. each morning with an overwhelming urge to check his
boathouse.
Item: A horrific demonic face made its presence known
to both George and Kathleen in the back of their fireplace
while George tended to a fire. Half the demon’s face looked
blown away, as if by a rifle.
Item: The young daughter, Missy claimed to have an
imaginary friend named “Jodie.” A demonic pig capable of
changing its size.
Item: On January 1, 1976, a trail of gigantic, cloven hoof
prints had been spotted in the snow just outside the house.
On January 8, 1976, realizing that “something” was
against them, both George and
Kathleen performed one of two
blessings upon their house. With
a silver crucifix, the two entered
each room of their home, reciting
the Lord’s Prayer, asking for peace
to come to their house. While
doing this, each heard several
agitated voices begging them to
“stop what they were doing.” The
second blessing, which took place
in mid-January, was so frightening
George and Kathleen
and indeed so horrific, neither
Lutz
ever fully explained the events,
not even in their book, stating
that it was just “too frightening.”
Although it is rarely
mentioned, the Lutzes did try
once to leave their home for
awhile, heading toward Deer
Park, New York, to stay with
Kathleen’s mother. While trying
to relax, the phenomenon
followed them, suggesting that
a simple night with the in-laws Jay Anson, the author of
"The Amityville Horror"
would solve nothing.
After a final night of
screaming demons and green slime oozing from the walls of
their home, George and Kathleen Lutz took their children
and dog, leaving on January 14, 1976.
As a form of therapy, George had both himself and
Kathleen recite over forty-five hours of audio accounts,
regarding their experiences at 112 Ocean Avenue. Upon
hearing of the tapes, the editor of Prentice Hall introduced
the Lutzes to author Jay Anson, who thought their story had
potential. The book “The Amityville Horror” has sold over
ten million copies from its numerous editions. The title,
most people believe, had been derived from the classic H.P.
Lovecraft story “The Dunwhich Horror” which had been
first published in 1929.
There are those who claim this story and all its players
were made up in order to sell books, that the tragedy of
the Defeo Murders were used and capitalized upon for
monetary gain. As someone who has had his own sanity
questioned—after being attacked by a ghost myself—I can
sympathize with the Lutzes. Ronald Defeo…not so much.
At least in their episode, the Lutzes took no human lives.
Kathleen Theresa Lutz died of emphysema on August
17, 2004. George Lee Lutz died of heart disease on May 8,
2006. Both divorced in the late 1980s, but remained on good
terms. Neither ever suggested that it was the “spirits” that
caused them to grow apart.
Ronald Defeo remains within the gray walls of his
correctional facility, refusing both interviews and comments,
unless paid for the honor. His family is presently entombed
in Amityville’s nearby Saint Charles Cemetery.
To this day, the house at 112 Ocean Avenue has remained
a “dead cell.” There has been no other paranormal activity
reported. Perhaps peace has finally come to her walls? For
the future families that reside there, I certainly “hope” so.
To learn more about this author and his work go to www.
donaldallenkirch.com. 
21
SOMETIMES THE ABYSS STARES BACK INTO YOU!
MANCHESTER
HOUSE
By Donald Allen Kirch
Manchester House was built upon secrets and blood. Even the land upon
which it was built was considered…bad.
No one in the town wanted to admit
that the ancient house even existed.
All homes facing the ruin had their windows boarded shut. All roads to the thing
were blocked, overgrown, or forbidden.
Manchester House was a beacon of evil at
the center of a small Kansas Town with a
dark and mysterious past that would not
go away. All tried to forget it even existed -until the police had to bring the bodies out.
W hen a group of professional "ghost hunters" explore a local haunted house, they
descend into absolute darkness and terror,
learning the incredible truth behind
Available Online at
Amazon.com, Fictionwise.com the legend of MANCHESTER HOUSE.
and Lulu.com
“…Manchester House is just the kind of supernatural suspense thriller that
one would expect from the likes of Stephen King or Michael Crichton…”
—Apex Reviews
LESLIE TENTLER
Chasing
her
N
ovelist Leslie Tentler worked in public relations
as a writer and editor for nearly twenty years
before pursuing her love of writing fiction.
Her first manuscript won multiple RomanceWritersofAmerica
chapter contest awards, including the prestigious MaggieAward
ofExcellence.
Interview by Suspense Magazine
Dream
Leslie was born in Kingsport, Tennessee. Growing
up, she was an avid reader. First, Nancy Drew novels and
then secretly consuming her mother’s historical romances
at probably too young an age. As she got older, her reading
interests moved to dark, contemporary, romantic thrillers,
exactly what she writes today.
Her debut novel, “Midnight Caller” is about late-night,
radio show, psychologist Rain Sommers. She’s used to the
crazies who call in to rage from the back alleys of the French
Quarter and the shadows of the bayou. But one caller’s chilling
obsession with her and her long-ago murdered mother—an
iconic singer loved among the city’s Goth community—has
even the jaded Rain running scared as Vampire,a serial killer,
prowls New Orleans.
FBI agent Trevor Rivette is convinced Sommers’
midnight caller and the killer are one and the same. As it
becomes alarmingly clear that Vampire has a sick bloodlust
only Rain can satisfy, she allows Trevor to get closer. But he
soon discovers his secretive past and troubled present are laced
together and he may die trying to keep Rain’s fate out of the
control of a madman.
Leslie lives in Atlanta with her husband, Robert, and
their standard poodle, Tori. SuspenseMagazine is honored to
have a minute to speak with one of the newest authors to hit the
23
romantic suspense world.
Suspense Magazine
Review of
“Midnight Callers” by
Leslie Tentler:
Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): At what
point did you realize you wanted to
write a book? Is being an author what
you dreamed of becoming as a child?
Late-night, radio psychologist
Rain Sommers is used to a certain amount of celebrity within
the dark and depraved back alleys
of the bayou. As the only survivor
of her legendary parents’ murder/
suicide, she’s built a remarkably
normal life working with troubled teens. However, one caller’s
more than scary obsession with
her and her murdered mother
has even the cynical Rain running frightened as a vicious serial
killer known only as the Vampire
begins to prowl the New Orleans
Goth scene.
Leslie Tentler (LT): I realized I wanted
to be a novelist about the same time
I graduated from college and started
working in my first professional job in
public relations. I knew right then I was
more into creativity than business. Still, I
kept working to pay the bills, all the while
daydreaming about writing fiction and
dabbling in it here and there. I think I
kept waiting for the “right” time—the day
when I won the lottery and had nothing
else I had to do in my life to seriously
pursue that goal. A few years ago, the light
bulb clicked on for me that if I wanted to
write a book, I had to make the time and
stop putting it off for another day.
FBI agent Trevor Rivette is positive her caller and the killer he’s
been tracking across the country
are the same. It becomes terrifyingly obvious that the Vampire
has a burning need and Rain has
become his obsession. Allowing
Trevor access to her very private
past is painful, but Trevor has his
own demons in this town. As his
buried history mixes with Rain’s
disturbed present, he may die
trying to keep Rain safe from a
monster.
“Midnight Callers” doesn’t have
the awkwardness often found in
a debut. Strong and compelling
characters blend nicely into the
balanced backdrop of New Orleans shadowy Goth community.
It is easy to envision her secondary characters reaching out to
take the reins in future installments as this refreshing new talent proves she’s got a promising
future in this genre.
Reviewed by Shannon Raab for
Suspense Magazine 
24
As a child, I actually dreamed of being an
actress, something my practical side let go
of as I got older. But I always knew I had
a good imagination and a gift for writing.
I was also an avid reader: pretty much
anything I could get my hands on. Early
on, Nancy Drew novels were a favorite
and my mother would take me to buy the
new ones that came out each month on
the very day they were put on the store
shelves. I did “write” my first novel in
elementary school, which totaled about
twenty pages. It was a suspense story, too,
now that I think about it.
S. MAG.: How did Rain Sommers come
to life?
LT: Rain Sommers was really a product
of her environment. I’ve always been into
old houses and I envisioned her residence
in the Lower Garden District of New
Orleans before I “knew” her. I also wanted
to put her in an occupation where she
would have direct contact with the Goth
community without actually being Goth
herself. Her occupation as an adolescent
psychologist—and her mother’s legacy as
a Goth singer—grew from there.
The character of FBI agent Trevor Rivette
actually came to life first and I wanted
Rain’s personality and eccentricity to
balance his seriousness. You know what
they say—opposites attract.
S. MAG.: Do you plan on making Rain
the main focus of books to come?
Perhaps a series?
LT: “Midnight Caller” is the first in the
Chasing Evil Trilogy. The decision was
made that the other two books would
introduce new stories built around
other federal agents working in the FBI’s
fictional Violent Crimes Unit, which
is who Trevor Rivette works for. The
next one out is about a copycat killer
investigation and is set in Washington,
D.C. and the Middleburg, Virginia horse
country. My heroine in it is a former,
ruined socialite who now runs an equinetherapy program.
While I think Rain’s story is pretty
much complete, based on the success of
“Midnight Caller”, I’d love to do a sequel
that centers on Trevor’s sister, Annabelle
Rivette. Annabelle is an integral part
of “Midnight Caller” and it was her
character that stayed with me long after
the book was done. I’d like to return to
New Orleans to tell her story someday.
If I got a chance to do that, of course we
would get to see how things are faring for
Rain and Trevor, but this time around as
the supporting characters.
S. MAG.: Do you allow Robert to read
your work before sending it to the
publisher?
LT: Believe it or not, my husband Robert,
has never read any of my work! He really
prefers non-fiction and so I haven’t
pressed him to read anything. I tease
him about the fact that his wife has three
books going into print and he’s never read
them. He keeps saying he will buy them
at the bookstore and read them then.
I have a friend who reads my work and
my agent usually reads for me, too, before
the manuscript goes to the publisher.
Writingisasolitarybusiness.
cateringbusiness.
S. MAG.: Did your mother ever catch you reading her
books when you were “too young”?
Oh, and I’d love to buy an old house and renovate it. I’ve
hadthisrecurringdreamforyearswhereIbuyafabulousold
houseforasteal,onlytofindoutit’shaunted.Let’shopeifI
evergetthechancetobuysomethinglikethat,it’sghost-free.
Iprefertowritesuspense,notliveitmyself.
LT: Mymomwasabiginfluenceonmyloveofbooks.She
readhistorical,southernromancesallthetimeandofcourse,
I would sneak the books and read them. I don’t recall ever
being“caught,”however.Th
esexsceneswereprettyracyandI
wastooyoungtobereadingthatkindofthing,forsure.
Shealsogavemeacopyof“GoneWiththeWind”whenIwas
really young—in elementary school. I loved that book and
read it over and over. Of course, I’m from a small town in
thesouthandtheschoolsthereusedtotakefieldtripstothe
localtheatertoseethemovie.Mymomalsointroducedme
toPatConroy.
S. MAG.: What’s it like to win an
award for something you love doing?
Does it make the work more special?
LT: Th
e awards I’ve won so far have
all been for “Midnight Caller”, when
it was still unpublished and under
another name (my agent is the one
who suggested a title change). As an
unpublished writer, the awards were
reallyavoteofconfidencethatIwas
ontherighttracktoachievingmygoal.
Criticismsofyourworkcanbetough,
sohavingsomeonegiveyouanaward
foryourwritingandtellyouitsgood
isamuch-neededconfidencebooster.
S. MAG.: Have you ever considered
writing in another genre?
LT: IwishIknew!Possiblymorebooks.I’mfinishingupthe
Chasing Evil Trilogy now. I also have another book I was
in the middle of writing when “Midnight Caller” sold. It’s
anothersuspensestorysetnearCharleston,S.C.thatIthink
couldbeturnedintoaseries.It’sbasedaroundafamilythat
operatesahistorichotel.
“
With the threebook trilogy,
I haven’t had
much time to
relax in awhile.
LT: I’m a very diverse reader, but
everythingI’veeverattemptedtowrite
hashadsomeelementofsuspense.Ireallycravethedanger
andheightenedpassionsofathrillerandIloveputtingthe
twistsandturnstogetherandthrowinginafewredherrings
alongtheway.
S. MAG.: What’s the one thing you’ve always wanted to do,
but haven’t?
LT: Ifyou’daskedmethatafewyearsago,Iwould’vesaid,
“write a book.” Th
at’s always been my one big ‘bucket list’
item. Now I would have to say it would be to take a long
vacationandtraveltoplacesrighthereintheUnitedStates
where I’ve never been. I’d love to go to the California wine
country, to the Florida Keys and to Maine. I’d also love to
immerse myself in a cooking course. I’m a Food Network
junkieandatonepointIconsideredstartinga“smallaffairs”
S. MAG.: What’s next for Leslie Tentler?
”
S. MAG.: What do you do to relax between books?
LT: Withthethree-booktrilogy,Ihaven’thadmuchtimeto
relaxinawhile.Infact,I’vegonedirectlyfromonebookinto
writingthenext.WhenIdohavedowntime,I’mahomebody.
I enjoy watching television and spending time with my
husbandandpets.Ilovetryingnewrestaurantsandwalking
outdoors.IalsohaveabacklistofbooksI’mlookingforward
toreading.
Suspense Magazine would like to thank Leslie for
taking the time to chat with us. We love bringing more to
the fans and the only way to make sure you get the real
scoop is to go right to the source. To find our more about
this amazing new author, you can check out her website at,
http://leslietentler.com/. 
25
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VILLISCA
IOWA
AX Murder
House
Interview by John Raab
Press Photos Courtesy of www.villiscaiowa.com
PICTURED FROM TOP: 1)ExteriorofVilliscaAxMurderHouse2)BoydMoore
3)InaMayStillinger4)JosiahB.Moore5)SarahMontgomeryMoore6)Herman
Moore7)KatherineMoore8)LenaGertrudeStillingerand9)PaulMoore
V
ILLISCA IS A SMALL TOWN SET IN THE southwest corner of Iowa and the site of the very famous murders of
1912. In watching an episode of GhostAdventures, I came across this site of the unsolved murders. What intrigued
me the most is that the house is believed to still be haunted, not only by the victims, but the spirit of the murderer
as well.
On June 10, 1912 this quiet house was named “the murder house of Villisca, IA”. Two adults and six children were
brutally murdered by an axe-wielding killer who was never caught.
The best forensic science and investigators can piece together is that the killer was hiding upstairs waiting for the family
and friends of the children to come home after church service. Sometime in the night, the killer walked through the house
and went on his killing rampage.
The newspapers printed the story three days later. The town went into a frenzy and a witch hunt followed. Citizens
began to carry weapons, barring their doors and hunting for anything that would point them to the killer, seeing as how
in 1912 serial killers and mass murders were not as prevalent. Jack the Ripper already terrorized Whitechapel, and now,
Villisca, IA was put on the map.
Based on eye-witness reports, the murders had to take place sometime between midnight and 5:00 a.m. on June 10th.
The family was at church service until 9:30 p.m. Walking home, the family returned between 9:45 and 10:00 p.m. That was
the last time anybody saw the family alive.
Their neighbor Mary Peckham was outside her house at 7:00 a.m. the following day doing her laundry, when she
realized her neighbors were very quiet. The first strange clue was that Mary knocked on the door sometime between 7:30
and 8:00 a.m. to hear nothing and realize the door was locked from the inside. Ross Moore arrived at his brother’s house
and found the same thing, unusually quiet with a locked front door. At about 9:00 a.m. Ross entered the house with the key
he had. What he found inside was a scene that would rock the town forever.
The crime scene was quickly trampled, due to the fact that law enforcement could not hold back the gawkers and town’s
folk that came to the house as soon as the word spread. Many small towns have the same problem; nothing stays a secret
for very long.
From the investigation, this is all that is really known from the crime scene: eight people were murdered in their beds by
PICTURED FROM TOP: 1)MasterBedroom2)SouthBedroom
27
someone using an axe and were assumed to be sleeping during the murders. Doctors
estimated the murders took place sometime after midnight. Forensic science was not
as advanced as it is today so the investigation was difficult. Every window was covered with curtains, except two, which
were covered by clothes of the Moore’s. All of the victims’ faces were covered with bed sheets after they had been killed. The
murder weapon was found in the room where the Stillinger girls—friends of the Moore children—were sleeping. The axe
belonged to Josiah Moore who was also murdered and had been attempted to be wiped clean.
The strangest evidence is as follows: a pan of bloody water was found in the kitchen along with a plate of half-eaten
food. If the food had been saved, today’s science could possibly recover some DNA evidence, but that was destroyed. All
the doors were locked in the house, giving in to further thought that if the murderer left the house, they had a key or
perhaps was a member of the family still inside…and dead. Fingerprints were a new process and very unreliable at that
time. Detectives had to use their wit and physical evidence to help them out.
The police did have their list of suspects. Many theories were printed in the newspapers in the following months, but
only three suspects really had any viable staying power. Today we have so many different crimes to look back at; you can
get an idea or a direction in which to look for. For example, when you find a person with fifty stab wounds, you can assume
it was a crime of passion and the victim knew the killer. In looking back at the Villisca murders, there are many things we
can take away now to either remove some suspects or add new ones to the list.
Many historians however, stick to the three suspects list, which include: State Senator Frank Jones, William
Mansfield (actually arrested in 1916, because of previous and post murders committed the same way where
Mansfield was the prime suspect in all) and Reverend George Kelly (a traveling preacher who actually confessed to
the murders). Other suspects were either arrested or detained by police for the murders in Villisca, but all had been
released and never convicted. While the evidence of the actual murders had
been destroyed on site or over time, there are other crimes that were
committed in a four year span in the same manner that can be linked
back to Villisca. If you look at that evidence and those crimes as all
being committed by the same person, you would have to think
this was not done by a family member, but possibly by one of
the first serial killers in the Midwest.
Let us look at the supernatural evidence also. In all the
other crime scenes that I mentioned, this is the only one
where it seems the killer is still present in the house, searching
for his axe, which is now in a museum in Villisca. Many
paranormal investigators have a lot of evidence of children
talking and an evil entity threatening visitors. The current
owners have restored the house back to its original 1912 state and
opened it up to the public to stay in the house for a night. Again this
makes the Villisca Murder House a very unique crime scene.
SuspenseMagazinegot
got the opportunity to ask a few pertinent questions
PICTURED FROM
to see what else we could find out. We hope you enjoy:
TOP: 1)FrankF.Jones2)William"Blackie"
Mansfield3)ReverendGeorgeKelly4)Henry
LeeMoore5)MooreFamilyPhoto
28
Suspense Magazine (S. MAG.): What personal experiences have you
had inside the house?
Villisca House (VH): I have seen objects move, heard voices, footsteps,
screams, seen shadow figures and been present for eight scratchings that
appear on visitors. Living next door in Mary Peckhams house, the activity
seems to wander over at my home as well. Never a dull moment!
S. MAG.: Is the investigation still open and have the police tried to
recover any DNA or other forensic evidence?
VH: The case is still open, however all the evidence has disappeared.
We are open to any forensic expert to come to the house and see what they
can come up with.
S. MAG.: Do you believe that the murderer was one of the main
three people: Frank Jones, William Mansfield or George Kelly?








VH: I believe the murderer was Henry Lee Moore, a man who was
convicted of many similar axe murders across the country at the time. Of
course, that’s this month. I find new clues quite often pointing towards
someone else. A lot of people in town still cling towards Frank Jones.
S. MAG.: Does the folklore of the murders still haunt the town today?
VH: The town is very touchy when it comes to talking about the
murders. Some embrace the town’s history, while others don’t ever want to
mention it. I see it as history, just like Kennedy, Lincoln, or The Titanic. We
have to remember our past.
S. MAG.: What is the strangest paranormal experience you have
heard about from people who stayed in the house?
VH: Too many to list, the house is interesting in the fact that one night
it will be all of a residual nature (scenes from the past playing over again)
other times there is a definite poltergeist, sometimes evil and sometimes
good. The house is always changing, almost as if it is a living breathing
creature in itself.
In the show Ghost Adventurers, this is one of the first times that the
paranormal evidence is caught on film. Whether you believe or not, with
the ability to experience the house for yourself, you have to keep an open
mind.
If you would like to know much more about these famous, unsolved
murders, visit www.villiscaiowa.com. You will be able to take a virtual
tour of the house, see more photos and get a deeper, in-depth look at the
crimes, suspects and evidence.
This is a very unique crime of which many people probably don’t
know about. It is even more intriguing when you read more about the
evidence, crime and the crimes that could be associated with the Villisca
Murder House. 






























             


29
ASK YOUR
WRITING CAREER
COACH
y
with Tiffan
Colter
Effective
Social Media
Marketing
I realize that social media has become a worn out topic in many circles. There is the constant debate of whether
social media converts to actual sales, how to do it, if you need SEO or not, etc. etc. etc.
Meanwhile, the writers out there are screaming, “I just want to write a story!”
Well, you don’t have to give up your creative spark to benefit from using social media to market. In December
2010, I met five people using social media. All five of these people were what you’d call “hotleads”. In fact, I have paid work
from two of them already and follow up calls with the other three this week.
So, how can you convert social media in to actual sales? Here are a few tips to help:
1. Think through your posts.
Before you put something up, decide how it will portray you to people. If you’re having a tough day writing, say so,
but do it without whining. If your newest book just came out, share your enthusiasm. If you’ve been interviewed,
talk about your experience in the interview (more on that below) rather than bragging that you were interviewed.
Don’t tell us about highly personal issues or TMI (too much information). Let people feel like they’re a part of your
life (which is the draw of social media) without putting yourself in danger (like announcing to everyone that you’re
all alone and the storm just knocked out your security system). Remember, if you are using social media to connect
with your target market, every post must be about them! Solicit their opinion. Share an interesting link. Talk about
a fun character trait. Don’t tell us that you’re on your period or describe your stomach flu.
2. Be consistent.
This is one big problem many people have. They send out a huge number of blasts and then they stop. They are
sporadic. Their posts are great one day and lame the next. You never know if they’ll talk about something useful or
not. Eventually people simply quit listening to what you have to say. Determine why you are using the social media,
what part of your target market you’re working to connect with and how you can do that best. Then be consistent.
And if you can’t resist telling us about the eating habits of your pet iguana, get a separate, personal blog for those
posts.
30
3. Drive people to your social media and use social media to drive people to you. Wow, that is a mouthful, what
I mean is what I touched on in point number one. Use your social media to say things like: “Just finished an
interview with @JohnRaab and @SMR. Great time & thanks for the tip on dogs. (link) #writegoal” Let’s look at that
fake tweet. What did I do? I told my followers [and followers of the #writegoal hashtag] that I was just interviewed
or I just interviewed someone. I also linked myself to John and SMR so they will know about my post and their
followers will too. I expressed public appreciation without being ridiculous. I also mentioned “the tip on dogs”. By
providing a link to either the interview, my blog or information regarding when the interview will post, I’m now
building potential buzz and re-tweets. Furthermore, by integrating this with Facebook, people can also comment
and ask about the dog tip. You can build up more dialog there.
But how did I turn all of this in to sales? I did it a few ways.
1. I consistently had my assistant have posts up that linked to relevant topics on my blog and other websites.
People began to recognize that I provided information rather than infomercials.
2. I made tweets fun teasers that had hash tags and were short enough for re-tweets.
3. I combined my LinkedIn, Twitter and Facebook pages. In addition, my new teaching website www.
WritingCareerCoach.net/tiffany is also linked to my Facebook wall. Therefore, there are posts from at least
three different groups converging in a single place. I can link to any one of them at any time.
4. I followed up with people. When someone emails me through Facebook or my website I reply asking for more
information on their project. Then I send them to my intake survey and follow up once I get notice the survey
is done.
How can you turn this in to increased book sales?
1. By creating interest in your book and in you. If someone feels they know you they’re more likely to buy your book.
2. By finding/reaching your readers where they are when they’re not trying to buy books. If they look at your tweets
or posts and are intrigued they’re more likely to buy your book. If you can make a tweet interesting, they’ll reason
you must write a great book.
3. As I’ve said in previous columns, it’s not all about book sales. I make a good bit of my living editing for writers,
coaching writers and doing writing for businesses. Look at what you can do beyond just writing your novel. What
are your long-term goals and how can social media help you?
There’s a good bit of information here for you, but don’t get overwhelmed. Do one thing at a time and practice. If
you’d like more help you can always contact me or sign up for free audio courses at www.WritingCareerCoach.net/tiffany
or visit my blog at www.WritingCareerCoach.com. 
31
A
ROOM
at the
END
By Rebecca Sherman
THE SNOW FELL AND THEY STILL CAME.
Stanson was wearing the jacket with the real fur lining that made him itchy all over. At the
end of every shift, he’d peel the jacket off and his skin would be up in a hundred red welts. He
thought he might be allergic, and then he thought his friends might be up to no good.
Regardless,he kept wearing it. He watched the interlopers make their way towards him through the snow,
obviously going for the courteous approach. They would say 'hi', be friendly and try
to appeal to his sense of adventure. Heyman.We’vecometoexploreandtakesome
photos.Youknowhowitis.Th
isplaceisfantastic! What they didn’t know, among
many other things, was that Stanson wasn’t an adventurist. He’d worked the same
job for eighteen years. He ate the same thing for breakfast since he was a boy: Quaker Oats, in milk,
not water. He got up the same time, went to bed the same time. His body even had bowel movements the
same time every day. Like clockwork. Tick tock.
There were three in the group. From a distance, he couldn’t tell whether they were young or old. Generally,
those older than thirty were the ones who asked permission to enter liked to stop and have a chat; ask his
opinion of what went down where they stood. A man in the group raised his gloved hand and waved it back and forth. The girl had long, dark
hair that was being lifted by the wind in pieces so it looked like angry serpents. He could feel his
friends’ hunger. He’d been able to ever since he first stepped foot on the grounds so many years ago.
That didn’t make him a freak. He was as normal as normal was.
“Hello,” said the man who waved. The leader of the group.
Stanson could see his face now. He wore a big smile. He was in his mid-thirties. Out for
a spook. He would get it. Stanson smiled back. Security guards could be amiable, too.
The girl was pretty. Late twenties. Too much eyeliner. Stanson was in the mind
that makeup was the paint of sin. The other guy wore horn-rimmed glasses. He
liked the girl, you could tell. Until their deaths, in the next twenty minutes or so, he
32
would keep wearing his heart on his sleeve and she would keep rejecting him.
“Man, it’s freezing out here. I don’t know how you do it!”
“Can I help you folk?”
The leader’s smile broadened.
“Well, I’m a photographer,” he placed a hand on the black bag hanging from his shoulder, “and I’m interested in taking
some pictures. What would I have to do to go about this?”
“Oh, well, the Farland Sanitarium is closed. It’s private property—owned by the town—which is why I’m here. I figured
you passed your third NoTrespassing sign just a bit up the road?” Stanson liked to play with them. Make them nervous before giving them what they wanted.
The three looked at each other and shook their heads.
“No,” they said simultaneously.
“Are you sure the signs are still there?” the leader asked. “They could’ve fallen down or something.”
The girl changed the topic: “Can you believe what happened here?”
“Yeah, how can you work in a place like this?”
The guy with glasses glanced around uneasily. Stanson thought, smartguy. “Well, there certainly were some wrongful actions taken here which is why the state investigated and eventually closed
the place down…”
“In 1992, right?”
Wegotabrainerhere.
“That’s correct, young lady. That’s also why the place is set for demolition in July. A lot of folks have a lot of bad feelings.”
“I heard they used to cut off patients’ arms and sew them onto other patients to see if they still worked.”
Stanson caught a glint in the girl’s eye. Someone was fascinated by torture. Besides the eyeliner, she looked like such a
nice girl. He wondered if she’d be equally fascinated by her own pain. “That’s not the half of it. I heard they did radiation experiments on children and that when these children died the
hospital staff buried them on the grounds in unmarked graves. Maybe even where we’re standing.”
The leader made a low moaning sound like a ghost. The girl laughed giddily and danced in place on tiptoe. Stanson could feel his friends getting restless. It was time to send the group down. He removed a dirty toothpick from his
pocket and worked the point between his teeth.
“Let me reiterate. This is private property and if I let you go on through, that would look bad on me.”
“We promise we won’t be any trouble,” the girl said.
“That’s right,” said the leader. “I just want to go in and take a couple pictures. We’ll be thirty, forty minutes tops.”
They were an eager bunch. So much desire to see something off par with their regular lives. Then when they get their
wish, they never do like it very much.
“Please. Please.” The girl gave him a long smile.
Stanson started to pretend. He sighed, his breath pluming. He shifted his weight. He kicked at a pebble by the toe of his
boot.
“I’ll tell you what.” Their faces lit up. “If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll let you into this building right here.” Stanson
stepped aside and flung his arms up as if presenting a nifty gift. “The theater’s the best building on site. Still got all the old
backdrops the kids painted in there. An old projector, too, if you’re into that kind of thing. But the catch is, I can’t let you in
for free.”
The group was riled: “What?Man.Howmuch?We’rejuststudents.Wedon’thavealotofmoney.”
“Now, calm down. Calm down. Twenty bucks and not only will I allow you entrance into this building and you can
spend as much time as you want, I’ll give you directions to the scariest room in the joint.”
“Where is it?” the leader asked.
“Now, I can’t just tell you that.” Everyone laughed.
“Is it the morgue?”
33
Stanson wondered what kind of strange theaters the girl was attending. “No, not the morgue. Better.”
“What’s better than a morgue?” the leader turned to ask the others. They smiled and poked each other excitedly.
“Oh, I’ve definitely got something better.”
Stanson knew his own production would work for the sheer fact that it always did. The prospect of getting the crap scared
out of them was just too tempting. And then the opportunity to race home and share the story with friends. A good spook
is way worth twenty bucks.
But they’d get way more than a good spook. And they’d never go home. “Twenty dollars you said?” the leader asked.
Stanson nodded a big nod.
“Oh and afraid the camera’s got to stay.”
“What? You’re kidding! You never said that!”
Stanson was worried he might have ruined it just there. Most interlopers brought cameras. Most put up a stink about
leaving them. Most caved. But he wasn’t so sure about the leader. He seemed quite attached to his portable, memory box.
“Let’s just do it,” the girl said. “There’s still that other place for taking pictures.” After a few long stares at his camera bag, the leader made a sound like a grunt, pulled his wallet out and fished through
it. Stanson noticed a lot of green in there. Also the edge of a condom wrapper.
“Okay, twenty dollars. So where’s that room?”
Stanson and the leader held the bill tightly between them like firefighters holding a jump net. Several snowflakes landed
intact on Jackson’s head. The leader finally relinquished the money and then his camera.
Stanson recited the directions by heart, “Go down the stairwell to the right of the stage. Be careful, the stairs are rotting but
they’ll hold if you walk your feet along the outside. You’ll need a flashlight. Got one? Good. Take the stairs to the very bottom.
You’ll see a very long hallway. Seems it goes and goes forever. There’s a room at the end. Room 3A.
“That’s the room you want.”
Stanson noticed he was still pointing into the building and he put his arm down and moved aside for the three to pass.
The leader eyed his camera bag one last time before stepping in through the doorway and allowing the moldy darkness
to swallow him. The others followed.
Stanson called in after them, “Remember…very end of the hallway! Room 3A!”
“It smells nasty in here,” the girl said.
The group turned on their flashlights and moved further into the building. Stanson watched the wide beams cut across
debris-ridden floors, sagging walls, peeling paint and open doorways into viciously dark rooms. The girl squealed and then
laughed.
“Don’t do that,” one of the guys said.
“I can’t believe I don’t have my freaking camera,” Stanson heard the leader say.
He closed the door into the building halfway, so it was as it always was and turned to head back to his car.
“They don’t like getting their picture taken,” he mumbled.
His boots crunched in the snow. Dead, brown leaves swirled around stripped trees. Branches shook a sound like shivering
bones. Stanson arrived at the back of his car and opened the trunk. He added the camera to the others and closed the trunk
shut. He got in the passenger side and put on the heat full-force. He left the door open and one leg hanging out. He looked
up, thinking he saw movement in a third floor window.
Probably them.
His friends.
Several liked to watch their food being delivered. Like starving babies. He thought he heard screams. Too soon? Maybe
the group had made a beeline for the room. Some did do that, unable to stifle the curiosity.
Stanson turned on the radio and eyed the hill and the road winding up from the property’s entrance. Night approached.
Soon, more would come.
Fright beckoned. 
34
K
Northern Europe. Art has
been a very important
part of her life since
early on. Her mother
her to art lessons with a very famous Estonian graphic artist.
When it was time for Kadri to go to primary school, she
insisted on going to art school and from then on there was
nothing to stop her creativity.
Kadri mainly worked with classical mediums and
sculptures, but was never happy with them as she wanted the
results looking real. However, she felt she was never good
enough to put every little detail from reality onto canvas as
she saw it.
After the first nine years in art class, she switched
to science in secondary school and from there on continued
to the university where she is currently studying for her
Master’s Degree in computer science while working at the
university.
In 2006, she found her way towards photomanipulations. That medium offered the flexibility to bring
her dreams to canvas, but still have that realistic look she
used to seek but never achieved. From that moment, she
couldn’t imagine her life without art. Photo-manipulations
in the medium for her to be able to express the things that
haunt her mind, feelings, thoughts and experiences.
Kadri finds connecting with people verbally as a
challenge. However, art is a way to forward her message
without having a communication problem. It is her way
to put onto canvases her feelings and thoughts. She looks
forward to years from now to look back on the images and
remember all she wanted to say with them.
The majority of her artwork is fantasy-themed, but
she also has works that have been inspired on real life events.
Her other inspirations come from music, books, TV and
films. Real life is her biggest inspiration and has allowed her
artwork to be published as book and CD covers.
SuspenseMagazine was lucky enough to find Kadri
on Deviant Art and talk with her. Take a few moments to
enjoy the interview and get to know her a little better along
with us.
36
Romance
SuspenseMagazine (S. MAG.): Do you think your mother being
artistic had an impact on you? Perhaps you inherited her talent?
Kadri Umbleja (KU): I am sure it has. I probably would have
notbeenexposedtoartthewayIwasifshehadn’tbeendrawing
beautiful,flowerpaintings.Shehasagreatloveforartandexposed
my sisters and I to it through art galleries. She also took me to
specialartlessons.Forhertheartwasonthebackgroundthenand
nowonlyahobbyeventhoughsheattendedartschoolduringher
childhood.Whatshecreatedaffectedmeandothers.WithoutherI
donotthinkIwouldbecreatingart.
S. MAG.: Your pictures are beautiful. What inspires you?
KU: Th
ere and tons of things: music, books, films and TV-series.
Musicisgreatinspiration.It,likebooks,doesnothaveavisualside
anditleavesmymindfreetofindgreatthings.Usuallytheinspiration
comesfromsomeself-createdscene.IreadabookandIimaginehow
itwouldlook.Withmusicitistheatmospherethepiececreates.Ican
hearareallypowerfulmeaning,ittouchesmeandIwishtoexpressit.
History can also be inspiring. I mean, while reading or watching
filmsIcanlearnthingsIneverdidandsomearesomovingorso
hauntingthatIjusthavetoexpressthemsomehow.Iamnotgood
talkersothisismywaytoexpressthosefeelings.
Mea Culpa
Last,butnotleast,thingsaroundmeinspireme.Th
ingsthathave
happenedtome,myexperiences,artismywayofexpressinghowI
feelandwhatmywordswouldconveyifIcouldfindtherightones.
S. MAG.: Do you allow someone to critique your creations before
you submit them to the art world?
KU: IhaveaveryhelpfulsisternamedLiisa.Sheismybestcritic.
We have very different ways of seeing things. I go for the overall
feeling,theatmosphere.Ilookfromadistance,butshehasaneye
fordetails.WhenIcanbeveryhappywiththeoverallfeeling,she
comes and points out my flaws like something that doesn’t look
perfectlyblendedorsomedetailthatlooksodd.Asanartist,Iwork
forhoursontheimagebeforeitevengetstothestatetobecritiqued,
soIamsomehow“immune”tomymistakes.
S. MAG.: Do you have a favorite piece?
KU: I love Coup D’Etat and Mea Culpa. I think they are very
similar. It is somehow the same motive or symbol on them. And
theyhavethesamecolorscheme.Ilovethatredandwarm,yellow
feelingandthosestrongmodelsandthatintenseormysticfeeling.
From my earlier works I am very proud of Requiem Aeternam
and A Sailorman’s Hymn. With the last one specially, it just
Sanctuary For All
37
Ashes of Time
came into my mind. I just passed the last exam of my
first semester, had have been away from art for weeks,
came home, just starting working, forgot eating and
everything else and worked until it was finished. I love
the details there and the way I put the pieces together
like a shelf. Th
at piece really showed me that possibilities
are endless and almost anything I imagine, I can create.
Andofthelatestimages,IthinkTh
roughtheBarricadesis
veryspecialone.FirstofallbecauseIhavehadtheideafor
yearsandIdrewlittlesketches,butneveractuallyworkedon
it.Also,thestorybehindthesongthatinspiredmeandhow
thestoryreallyaffectedme.Afterdoingsomeresearchabout
thetimeperiodthesongdescribedandtryingtounderstand
howlifewouldhavebeenthere,IfelttherewassomethingI
hadtotell.
S. MAG.: Who is your favorite artist? Why?
KU: Th
at’s really hard one. I love classical paintings, like
landscapesandscenery,butIalsolovetoday’sart.IfIhaveto
bringoutsomenames,ItotallyadoreAlanLee’swatercolors
andWilliamSchimmel’sarcticpaintings.
S. MAG.: Is there a piece you’ve always wanted to do, but
haven’t for one reason or another?
KU: IthinkthereisalwaysapieceIwantedtodoinspiredby
Kelly’sFamilysongMama.It’ssuchamovingsongandwhen
mygrandmotherdied,somehowIfeltthatwouldbethesong
thatcouldexpresswhatIfeel,butIhaveneverdaredtostart
working on it. Somehow the more important the message,
imageorideaistome,themoreItrytopostponeit.Idonot
dareworkingon“special”ideasasIfeelIcoulddisappoint
myself.
S. MAG.: What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever been
given?
KU: Ithinkthebestadvicewasthesuggestiontogetmyself
“MaskPro” software. I have tried different things to cut
out elements I need for my images and I still prefer “hand
masking” for models and easier elements, but with that
piece of software I have the ability to remove sky behind
treesordoverydetailedandhardcut-outs.Ihavehadmore
possibilities.Ithashelpedmesavetime.Itwasreallyhelpful
asIneverthoughtsomethinglikethatexistedbeforeIheard
aboutthesoftware.
S. MAG.: You like your work to look realistic. Have you
ever done a piece that wasn’t realistic looking, but you liked
it anyway?
38
KU: Insomewayallofmyimagesarenotrealisticlooking.Th
eyare
fantasythemed,oftenwithfantasyelementslikefairiesormagical
glitterordreamscapes.Th
erealisticlookIhavebeensearchingfor
andwhatIdidnotfindwithothermediumsItried,ismorethat
humans look human on my images and all the proportions are
right.ItissomethingIhavealwaystriedtofollowwithmywork.
Whenthatisallright,everythingelse,thedetails,theatmosphere,
the elements, they do not have to be realistic. Th
ey are up to my
imagination. And looking through my works, I don’t think there
isanypieceIwouldcall“unrealistic”bymydefinition.Maybean
imagewithamermaidgetsclosesttothatcriterion.
S. MAG.: Do you think your artwork will become a gateway for
you to be able to communicate verbally with others?
KU: Idonotknow.Ihaveahardtimeexpressingmyselftoothers
andIhavefoundawaytoexpressmyselfwithart,tellmythoughts
and dreams and hopes. For sure, it has made me open up more
andmaybeputoutsomefeelingsIwouldhavekepthiddeninthe
past.SotherearesignsthatIamabletoopenupmore,butIthink
arthasmadeitpossibleformetocommunicatepassively.Verbal
communicationwouldnotbepassive,so…
S. MAG.: What do you do for fun when you’re not creating
beautiful pictures?
Mid-Winter's Night
KU: Iloveroleplaying.IusedtoattendtheaterclasseswhenIwas
inprimaryschoolandIhavelovedtheatermywholelife,butlike
moreclassicalmediumswherelittlerestrictsme.Eventheaterwas
restrictive.Iwantedtomakemyowncharacters,challengemyself
withdifferentrolesandseehowIreact.LuckilyIfoundLARPand
thatgivesmetheabilityjustdothat:writemyowncharacters,their
stories,trytounderstandhowtheythinkandreactandwhythey
dowhattheydo
I also read a lot. I love fantasy and sci-fi novels, but also books
about history and biographies. Somehow, the look of reality is
importantformeinart,Ilooktounderstandpeopleinliterature:
their thoughts, motivations and reasons behind their actions.
I could also add puzzles, figure skating and painting & building
modelformula1carstomyfunlist.
SuspenseMagazine is so proud to have had the opportunity
to speak with Kadri. She is a very talented artist and her work
has obviously allowed her to open up with us for the enjoyment
of everyone who enjoys our magazine. We are honored to have
her work gracing our cover this month. If you want to see more
of her work check out her page on Deviant Art at http://iardacil.
deviantart.com/. 
Symphony nr. 5 - Destiny
39
Shrouded in secrecy, the Ark of
the Endowment has remained
hidden for millennia.
ose fortunate enough to know of its location have but one task:
to keep its contents from being stolen. Like Pandora's Box, the
legend says that anyone who partakes of its sacred contents will
invoke divine judgment upon the world. But who is to say that it
cannot be used for good? Who could resist the temptation of its
promise: eternal youth? When the heirlooms of a man Brent Venturi hardly knew show up unannounced in his office, his everyday routine is shattered. Each revelation leads to more questions,
cryptic warnings, secret maps, and shady allies. When the last
guardian of the world's most important secret is dead, who can be
trusted?
NOW AVAILABLE AT
Amazon, B&N and Kindle
jmleduc.tatepublishing.net
Autumn: The City
by David Moody
As
a
deadly,
airborne pathogen
tears
through
the city, few are
left
unscathed
by its harrowing
and catastrophic
effects. Agonizing
pain, blood-curdling cries
and violent convulsions all
precede the nightmarish death
of choking on your own blood.
The immune are forced to sit
back helplessly and watch as
the world around them dies
a horrible death. Life as it
was is quickly replaced by an
apocalyptic, dystopian future
riddled with the corpses of
those less fortunate. Now, just
days after the incident, dead,
rotting corpses begin to twitch
and move as they become
reanimated and roam the city.
At first the corpses move about
with no sense of direction or
even thought, but soon they
begin to change and the most
basic of human instincts begins
to kick in…aggression.
Tortured by the memories of
those they have lost and the
knowledge that life as they knew
it is now over, the remaining
handful of survivors must find
one another, pull together and
find a way out of ‘The City’.
David Moody has penned
a
wickedly-original
and
unforgettable zombie tale.
“Autumn: The City” will have
you cringing at the ‘what ifs’ of
the scenarios it holds within its
pages.
What would you do if the
dead came back to life and
outnumbered the living one
million to one? How would
you get out of ‘The City’? The
end of the world has come
and “Autumn: The City” has
reserved you a front row seat to
watch the chaos unfold…enjoy
the show!
Reviewed by CK Webb
(WebbWeaver Reviews) for
SuspenseMagazine
Inside
Suspens
e Maga
zine Bo
ok Revie
ws
the Pag
es
KARMA
by Nancy Deville
While attending a medical seminar in Istanbul, Meredith Fitzgerald, an engaged, beautiful,
blonde, young lady is duped by her taxi driver in the old, city bazaars. Intent on spending
one last day exploring Istanbul before leaving for India, to sprinkle her father’s ashes in the
Ganges, she allows her guard down in the market environment. Instead of engaging in a
tourist-style adventure she finds her tea laced with choral hydrate. Having been slipped
a mickey she slips into unconsciousness. When she awakens she finds herself naked,
imprisoned in a dark room and realizes she has been raped.
Her feats mount as she realizes she has been taken prisoner by a sex-trade trafficker who, along with his
American companion and his bodyguards, conspire to move her to Mumbai, India. Fitzgerald gives up
hope of being found, knowing her fiancé, Paul, will be searching in Turkey, not across the border in India,
for her.
By making herself personal physician to Mrs. Pawar, Fitzgerald tries to curry favor and to place her in a
situation where she can escape, not just from the ritual daily raping from her immediate kidnapper, but
from under the noses of her Indian task-masters.
An on-the edge-of-your-seat, unforgettable adventure that takes us the edge of madness and back and
shows that with perseverance and a never-say-die attitude even the most evil circumstances can be
triumphed over.
Reviewed by Mark P. Sadler, author of “Blood on His Hands”, published by SuspensePublishing, an imprint
of SuspenseMagazine 
Delirious
by Daniel Palmer
Charlie Giles worked hard to get to the top of the high tech company Solucent. He also
made more than a few enemies in the process. Now his success will come with a price and
he finds himself in a desperate fight to stop a killer. The problem is convincing himself
and others that he’s not the killer.
Is someone out to get him, make him think he's the killer or is his worst nightmare
coming true? With the help of his schizophrenic brother, he frantically tries to solve the mystery while still
trying to keep his family's past a secret.
“Delirious”, Daniel Palmer's riveting fictional debut takes readers on a mind-bending psychological ride.
There are fantastic plot twists, wonderfully deceptive characters and most of all, it gives a look into how
vulnerable we have become in this techno-driven society!
Reviewed by Catherine Peterson for SuspenseMagazine
BLACK BEANS & VICE
by J.B. Stanley
James and the group of the ‘Supper Club’ have a new idea of how to lose weight….hypnosis. If they no
longer crave sugar, they no longer gain weight or at least that is their plan! James’ life is going better than
he ever hoped, he is completely adored by his newly-found four-year-old son and he and his ex wife have
a closer relationship than he ever dreamed possible. His family is mostly accepting of the new wonderful
turns of his life and he is on cloud nine.
On a family outing to a food festival, protesters are there actively campaigning for animal rights. For the
most part, the members of the Supper Club agree with what the protesters stand for, but do not approve of
their methods. At the festival, James and his son discover the first body. No one is overly interested in the
death except James’ ex girlfriend who has moved back to town and is honing in with her reporter instincts.
When the second body is found, the members of the Supper Club have to figure out what is going on!
The Supper Club members are finding love, hooking up with old crushes and trying to get into shape.
James’ stress is added to by someone nailing a dead bird to his ex wife’s front door and then sending him
a threatening note. He needs to protect his family and his friends are there to help him with both moral
and police support.
The latest in the supper club mysteries is an enthralling read! From page one it pulls you in and is a
wonderful ‘cozy’ mystery.
Reviewed by Ashley Wintters for SuspenseMagazine
41
A Heartbeat Away
by Michael Palmer
Always exhilarating, Palmer ratchets the tension to a breathtaking level with the release of
“A Heartbeat Away”. Stunning in its realism and truly terrifying, the frantic, anxiety-driven
pace is what Palmer gives his fans in a ringside seat as the nightmare unfolds.
As President James Allaire begins his second State of the Union address, he’s prepared
to captivate the public with his charm, but doesn’t get the opportunity. Within moments
of launching his message, puffs of vapor begin pouring out of strategically placed locations
on the floor of the House Chamber. As the haze subsides, he receives a horrifying message. Genesis—a
domestic terrorist group—has released a deadly, contagious and incredibly aggressive virus into the Capitol
building and all hell is about to break loose.
Allaire is all too familiar with WRX3883 and the lethal consequences of its release. He is, in part,
responsible for its origination and is very aware that the outcome has become dire for the hundreds
of beautifully coifed attendees of this evening. Trapped with all but one successor for the office of the
presidency, Allaire must reach out to the one man who has absolutely no reason to help him.
One time virologist, Griffin Rhodes is now a permanent resident in solitary confinement at a maximumsecurity prison in Colorado. Being held for alleged terrorist acts and unaware of his crimes, Rhodes faces
a personal challenge when granted freedom in exchange for his assistance. With a grim outlook, amplified
as he walks into the nightmarish scene of the crime, Rhodes understands that the hope of the nation lies
heavily on his shoulders.
Palmer’s genius lies in his ability to never underestimate the intelligence of his readers as he takes us into
thought-provoking territories meant to keep us up at night.
Reviewed by Shannon Raab for SuspenseMagazine 
Blood of Like Souls
by Val Conrad
Life’s secrets have a way of surfacing at the most inopportune time. Julie Madigan’s past
comes to the fore when she is the victim of a bomb explosion while on the site of a murder
investigation. Madigan, a medical examiner in Michigan was running from her past as officer
with the New Mexico State Police and from her abusive husband who she killed in selfdefense. Her past was revealed during her hospitalization when she had to explain the scars
on her body, identifying the reason her neck had a jagged knife wound from ear to trachea.
While her friends and new employer struggled to grasp the significance of the subterfuge, a murderer was
sending messages to Madigan, making a game out of her inability to solve the next death even with hints
as to how it would happen. This mysterious game-playing killer knew more than anyone else about her
past, the how and why are what is so cleverly bought to light until the skillful penmanship of debut author
Val Conrad. Struggling to maintain her relationships and her life Madigan is forced to endure more than
anyone should have to in order to eventually expose her private monster.
Conrad’s expertise in the field she writes about is obvious and her familiarity with the geographical areas
she takes us to give this novel the finite touches to make the subject as real as possible. This was a page
turner that had me on the edge of my seat.
Reviewed by Mark P. Sadler, author of “Blood on His Hands”, published by SuspensePublishing, an imprint
THE KILLING STORM
by Kathryn Casey
A twisted case has Texas Ranger, Sarah Armstrong, baffled. Someone is murdering longhorn
bulls and painting symbols on them. Sarah is almost one of a kind, being a woman in an
almost completely male department, not only that, but she is also a profiler. She and her
partner Buckshot are trying to find who is murdering the docile bulls and why, but the only
leads are the unusual symbols left on the carcasses.
David, an FBI profiler and pseudo boyfriend of Sarah’s has his own problems. Someone stole a
little boy, four-year-old Joey, from a park as his mother was preoccupied. He brings Sarah in as a consultant
and the case haunts her to the point of distraction. She consults on her case with a creepy Dr. Beniot about
the symbols and finds some answers but is really left with more questions than answers. The main question
always in her mind is who stole Joey!
Their relationship is in limbo while David tries to decide if he wants to continue his relationship with
Sarah or return to his ex-wife and help raise his teenage son, but they cannot let that distract them from
solving the cases. With an uncooperative mother and a father who is convinced the mother took him, the
abduction case is spinning in circles. Ranchers are up in arms about the murder of expensive cattle and
impatient to get answers. Added to everyone’s stress, there is a hurricane headed straight for them and they
need to solve these cases now before all the evidence is destroyed and the cases go cold.
This heart wrenching story will keep you engrossed until the last page and is a must read!
Reviewed by Ashley Wintters for SuspenseMagazine 
42
BLOODROOT
by Bill Loehfelm
Danny Curren has
been missing from
the lives of his
family for the last
three years and his
brother Kevin is
ready to give up on
him. Danny’s hard life and drug
addiction has caused a family rift
that Kevin is afraid will never be
undone. So when Danny shows
up at Kevin’s apartment, clean,
sober and financially stable,
Kevin wonders if the new Danny
is for real or just another attempt
by his brother to take advantage
of their wounded family.
Danny invites Kevin for a
night out, but as the evening
progresses, Kevin finds that
Danny’s new line of work is a
bit shady and his employer is
the mob. Kevin is unknowingly
immersed into underworld
dealings that have everything
to do with the abandoned
Bloodroot Children’s Hospital
that was closed down years
ago due to abuse and medical
malpractice on children.
Danny leads Kevin deeper and
deeper into the terrible secrets
of Bloodroot and the dark
beginnings surrounding Danny’s
nightmarish life as a child of the
infamous hospital.
Bill Loehfelm has written a story
of family love, betrayal, secrets
and forgiveness and "Bloodroot"
is a winner. His talent has
crystallized for the reader, what
can happen to a normal family
when secrets are kept and then
revealed. This thrilling novel
drops the reader into one
family’s reality and tumbles us
along to a harrowing ending that
is totally unexpected. Not only
is this novel a thriller in its own
right, but also a study in how one
family handles their own secret
past. Emotional, powerful and
seriously good…Bill Loehfelm
has skillfully done it again in
"Bloodroot".
Reviewed by: DJ Weaver
(WebbWeaver Reviews) for
SuspenseMagazine
Murder Your Darlings
by J.J. Murphy
Dorothy Parker—satirist, poet
and one of the greatest wits of the
twentieth century—is the feisty
heroine of this delightful mystery
by J.J. Murphy. If her name is not
a readily familiar one, shame on
you. One of her most quoted lines
is, “Men seldom make passes at
girls who wear glasses.” Got it?
Great.
A writer for Vanity Fair back in
the roaring twenties, Parker was
one of the founding members
of the Vicious Circle, a stellar
group of writers including Robert
Benchley, Alexander Woollcott
and Robert Sherwood, who
lunched every day at the famed
New York City landmark, the
Algonquin Hotel. Their group
became nicknamed the ‘Round
Table’, and the table, and the
hotel, still exist today. Not only
can anyone have lunch there,
for a little extra fee you can sit
at the actual table these literary
luminaries sat at back in the day.
Hmm. I wonder if sitting there
would mean their talent might
rub off an aspiring writer.
Unfortunately, when Mrs. Parker
arrives for lunch on a typical
weekday, she finds she’s not the
first one there. Leland Mayflower,
columnist for a rival publication,
is under the famed Round Table,
quite dead, as evidenced by the
sharp object protruding from
his chest. When members of the
famed Circle are suspected of
doing Mayflower in, Mrs. Parker
springs into action to unmask the
real killer and nearly loses her
own life in the process.
“Murder Your Darlings” is the
first in J.J. Murphy’s Algonquin
Round Table Mystery Series. The
second one, “You Might As Well
Die”, can’t come fast enough for
me. I loved it!
Reviewed by Susan Santangelo
author
of
“Retirement
can
be Murder” for
Suspense Magazine

DON'T LOOK BACK
by Lynette Eason
“Don’t Look Back” is one heck of a thriller with a horrific serial killer.
The main character Jamie Cash, was abducted and tortured by this sick person
twelve years ago and still bears the physical and emotional scars. Jamie is a forensic anthropologist. While working on a case of unearthed bones, Jamie sees in the wounds too
many similarities to what she suffered so many years ago. Can it be the same man? Yes it
can and soon he is contacting Jamie to let her know that his work with her is unfinished.
Dakota is not only the detective on the case assigned to keep Jamie safe and find the
attacker, but he is also in love with Jamie.
You quickly come to care about the characters and what is happening. I especially enjoyed the interaction between Jamie and Dakota. It was so obvious that she cared for him, but was so damaged, so afraid
due to what happened to her so many years ago she could not open herself to him. Dakota never pushed or
asked for more than she was willing and comfortable giving and he never ran from her secrets no matter
how awful. Watching things play out between them was a very sweet interlude to the gruesome story that
was surrounding them.
The suspense is high. I was turning pages so fast I had to go back and re-read a time or two. I will
admit, I figured out who he was pretty quickly, but that took nothing away from the read since the twists
and turns had me second-guessing myself and, the ending totally caught me by surprise.
“Don’t Look Back” is called Christian fiction, but it is not at all preachy. The message was there, but
placed in places that were appropriate. In my opinion it is much more a suspense/thriller with just a touch
of romance tossed in.
Reviewed by Kendall Gutierrez for SuspenseMagazine 
Dying Gasp
by Leighton Gage
This grim and compelling crime novel is set in the dark underbelly of Manaus, a large city in
northern Brazil that is a haven for under-age prostitution, crooked officials and various thugs
for hire. I was drawn in by the complex characters and the gritty world in which they live.
As the depravity of the antagonist was revealed, I became invested in the search for justice
pursued by Chief Inspector Mario Silva.
“Dying Gasp” is the third book in Leighton Gage’s Mario Silva series. Although elements of the previous
books are intertwined with this outing, all necessary back stories are deftly woven into the narrative so
that first-time readers will have no trouble following the plot. (I know this firsthand, having not read the
first two books.) Silva is a member of the Brazilian Federal Police, centered in the capital, Brasilia. He
and his team are called in to investigate the disappearance of the daughter of a well-connected, Brazilian
politician. They are led to the seedy, desperate world of the poorest of the poor in Manaus. Their search
slowly dovetails with an investigation in Amsterdam involving the accidental discovery of a pornographic
DVD that ends with a murder—a snuff film.
Silva and his fellow investigators find themselves in a race against time, trying to find the missing young
woman before the gruesome situation she has found herself in leads to the worst possible ending. Corrupt
officials and police complicate their work, one reason why Silva does not trouble himself too much with
rules and regulations when more direct action will help stop, once and for all, a brutal, insane killer who
has eluded him before.
The graphic subject matter is not for everyone, certainly not for readers who like their stories tied up neatly
with a bow at the end. But fans of well-drawn characters, evocative settings and intricately plotted police
procedurals will find themselves drawn into the edgy plot and captivated by the otherworldly, Amazonian
setting. I for one will be going back to read the previous books in this engaging series.
Reviewed by Scott Pearson, author of “Star Trek: Honor in the Night,” for SuspenseMagazine
Once Upon a Nightmare
by Lee Moylan
Sometimes our dreams can produce images much more deadly than any reality. When Sarah Bishop
discovers that her recurring and escalating nightmares are a twisted, first-hand look into the mind of a
diabolical serial killer, Sarah must set out alone and misunderstood to track the madman reeking havoc
on her restless nights.
“Once Upon a Nightmare” will make you cower at the thought of ever dreaming again. The scenes
that are laid out in this book are torturous and downright devious. With a serial killer unlike any you have
ever encountered, “Once Upon a Nightmare” is an original from start to finish. A pulse-pounding, gutwrenching shocker of a good read, “Once Upon a Nightmare” will resonate within your mind long after
the last page has been turned and the nightmare has ended.
Lee Moylan has penned a truly bizarre, frightfully hypnotic, gruesome tale that blurs the lines
that separate reality from fiction. A must read book for those not afraid of the dark or the visions that
nightmares can sometimes hold. Be careful what you dream…you just might get it.
Reviewed by CK Webb (WebbWeaver Reviews) for SuspenseMagazine 
43
Final Price
by J. Gregory Smith
What at first appears to be the
gang-style killing of a grocery
store owner and his wife for nonpayment of protection money, we
soon learn is the work of a serial
killer.
There is no doubt who is killing
off customers of a small-town car
dealership outside Wilmington,
Delaware. The unstable Shamus
Ryan can’t seem to sell water in
the Sahara, and when a customer
jerks him around once too often,
he goes after them in heinous
ways. It is up to Detective Paul
Chang, an outcast from New York,
to solve the crime. No one trusts
Paul; no one understands him. He
is as americanized as he can get,
yet the dragon lurks deep inside
him. He meditates, he seeks help
from his ailing mother’s Chinese
caretaker and he pines after an
ex-wife who never understood
him. Something happened to
him in New York, but we never
really learn what that was, so we
don’t understand what is under
all that simmering turmoil. Add
to the mix his odd but seemingly
brilliant
ex-partner,
Nelson
Rogers, whom the top brass has
forbidden to work the case, and
you have an eclectic mixture of a
not-too-mysterious mystery and
a very interesting detective duo.
Smith doesn’t try to keep us in
too much suspense here. It’s clear
what Shamus is up to. His creepy,
inner dialogue with his ‘Gran’,
whom he keeps in the freezer and
his self-inflicted punishments for
‘losing control’ give some idea
as to the killer’s psychosis. Sadly
there is nothing interesting about
Shamus, so it’s hard to sympathize
with him. Paul Chang and Nelson
Rogers, once they are fleshed
out, make compelling characters.
They are not your typical onedimensional detectives. I hope we
are treated to more of these two.
Reviewed by Julie
Dolcemas chio,
author
of
“Testarossa”
for
Suspense Magazine

44
THE BODYGUARD AND THE SNITCH
by Christy Tillery French
With a touch of Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum Series, French stylizes her own version of
comedy in "The Bodyguard and the Snitch". This book has fluid movement and intertwines
wit and dangerous escapades.
Natasha Chamberlain, a self-proclaimed bodyguard has more than her share of run-ins
with criminals. She is hired by Tommy Schmidt, an attorney who doesn't exactly uphold high morals, but
is monetarily successful nonetheless. He is targeted by the local mafia family and Natasha has to keep him
alive. Harrowing escapes rival humor as Natasha's style of defense is up for question.
Jonce Striker, her fiancé, is a bittersweet adversary when it comes to her choice of a career. But Natasha
holds firm to her occupational decision, even if it's hazardous at times. Her mother joins the ranks—
much to Natasha's despair—and decides to become a bounty hunter. It's a case of a Donna Reed-ish
mother meeting and combating a Sylvester Stallone gone bad with a female bodyguard sometimes armed
with nothing but her shoes as protection against a man with a gun.
If you want a funny read, French certainly delivers it with this novel. She uses a style all her own to deliver
a punch line that is set atop smoking guns and calamitous events. A very enjoyable book!
Reviewed by Starr Gardinier Reina, author of “In the Name of Revenge”, published by SuspensePublishing, an imprint of SuspenseMagazine 
MANDRAKE
by Oliver Sherry
“Oliver Sherry” was the occasional pseudonym of the obscure Irish poet George Edward Lobo, who died
in 1971. Under that name, Lobo originally published “Mandrake” in 1929. Long forgotten, the novel has
now been reprinted in a limited edition by Medusa Press.
“Mandrake” is the story of occult detective Tom Annesley, an American investigating mysterious
happenings near the village of Haddeston in southern England. Almost immediately, things begin to go
bad, as more and more local folk disappear, only to turn up piece by bloody piece on the played-out fields
of the local farms. They seem to be the victims of a large, savage, black dog, which evades all attempts
at capture or killing, in each case vanishing in the direction of Wanling, a haunted castle out on the far
reaches of the blasted heath.
Annesley soon identifies the source of the menace that plagues the region: it is the arch-fiend Habdymos,
an ancient alchemist and practitioner of the black arts. Habdymos is nearing the completion of a centurieslong plan to conquer death—and with it the human race. All he needs are a few more victims, including
Annesley’s young bride, Ethel Derrington.
Oliver Sherry is a forgotten master of the gothic macabre. His description of Habdymos’ background
reveals him also to have been a well-versed student of the occult, in the Irish tradition of Bram Stoker
and W.B. Yeats. It is a pity that “Mandrake” was his only gothic novel, but Medusa has done us a service
through its resurrection.
Reviewed by James Guy Roberts for SuspenseMagazine
Final Option
by Leighton Rockafellow
When Lindy Roller gets her orders from the Cartel bosses she heads back north to
Tucson. The notorious, professional killer has orders to rub out another dead-beat loser
who is being used as an example by the Mexican drug-dealers.
Having staged an escape from the Pima County jail before fleeing to Mexico, Lindy
has many people in Tucson who would be happy to see her back behind bars. From the
attorney Larry Ross whom she duped into hiring her while she was nothing more than a
spy for the opposition, to the head of homicide, Greg Kelly who was unwittingly having a torrid affair
with her while she was the most wanted felon in Pima County to poor old Jim Pierson the deputy she
had at her beck and call sexually while she planned her escape, not to mention the two other murder
complainants who had charges dropped as she was not there to testify after her getaway.
The dead-beat cocaine user she was to put on ice was a top, orthopedic surgeon whose life was
beginning to unravel after a nasty divorce and a suspension from the hospital. Dr. Jeff Young was also
being sued by a patient he operated on and caused terrible harm to. Larry Ross, the attorney that Lindy
used to work for, was chasing down the malpractice suit and attaching the hospital’s bond and so their
lives became entangled again.
When Lindy is apprehended and brought to trial it looks like a slam dunk for law enforcement in
Pima County.
In his third legal thriller featuring attorney Larry Ross, Rockafellow pulls out all the stops to a
whirlwind crescendo of a tropical storm blowing in from Mexico making you wonder who will have
survived when the waters finally roll back. This one blows it all away.
Reviewed by Mark P. Sadler, author of “Blood on His Hands” published by SuspensePublishing, an imprint
Absinthe of Malice
by Pat Browning
There’s a whole lot to love about “Absinthe of Malice”, Pat Browning’s delightful debut
mystery featuring Penny Mackenzie, lifestyle reporter for her hometown newspaper,
Th
ePearlOutrider. This cozy immediately dispels the notion that nothing ever happens
in a small town. Believe me, in the small town of Pearl, California, there are a whole
lotta things going on, including the discovery of an old skeleton, a murder, then another
murder and secrets. Many, many secrets.
Penny and her best friend and fellow reporter Maxie Harper discover the skeleton while researching
a story on a moonless night in a local farmer’s cotton field. Yikes! Can you say “scared to death”? Then
Maxie dies at a chamber of commerce event Penny is covering for the newspaper. And an old love who
comes back into town to complicate Penny’s life even more. Could all these events be connected?
Browning’s plot is neatly done and her characters are terrific, but where this writer especially excels is
in her scenic descriptions. For example, the opening of Chapter fifteen: “The newsroom smelled faintly of
cheese. Cramped, cluttered with debris from a thousand deadlines. I could swear the walls moved closer
together every day. Funny thing, though. When everyone was there, with phones ringing, computers
clacking, the printer and fax machine churning out paper by the yard, the clutter appeared to serve a real
purpose. On a quiet Sunday morning like this, the newsroom had about as much charm as a pigsty.”
I hope Pat Browning and Penny Mackenzie give us another sneak peek at life in Pearl, California, very
soon.
Reviewed by Susan Santangelo, author of “Retirement Can Be Murder” forSuspenseMagazine 
Death Notice
by Todd Ritter
Perry Hollow, Pennsylvania is the fictional town where a series of bizarre murders takes
place in Todd Ritter’s debut suspense thriller “Death Notice”. The idyllic town has seen its
share of hard times, due to the closure of the saw mill several years prior and when a fancy
restaurant opens up, the tourists return and stay for the charm. It is with great shock, then,
that on a cold snowy day, farmer George Winnick is found inside a hand-made coffin lying
on the side of the road. His mouth has been sewn shut and he has been embalmed.
Chief of Police Kat Campbell is used to the occasional drunk tearing up a bar, or perhaps a runaway teen,
but nothing in her experience prepares her for this. And to top it off, George’s demise was faxed to Perry
Hollow Gazette obituary writer Henry Goll, prior to his death.
Enter Lieutenant Nick Donnelly of the Pennsylvania State Police Bureau of Criminal Investigation, who
heads a task force that is after another serial killer. When it is discovered that this is the work of a new
killer, Nick stays on the case anyway. Nick and Kat develop a comfortable working relationship, even as
they deal with their own realities and demons: Kat is the single mother of a special-needs child, and Nick
is haunted by the loss of his sister to a serial killer many years ago. Both people are determined to catch
this evil-doer, but the killer is always one step ahead.
Ritter has cleverly left things open for a sequel, which I hope he gives us, and soon. A fine first novel.
Reviewed by Julie Dolcemaschio, author of “Testarossa”, for SuspenseMagazine 
The Curse Maker
by Kelli Stanley
The second in Stanley’s Roman noir series finds Arcturus in Aquae Sulis (modern
Bath, England). Arcturus, physician to the governor and crime solver, knows his wife,
Gwyna, is suffering, but not exactly sure why. Ardur, as Gwyna calls him, makes a trip
from Londinium to the baths and the temple of the goddess Sulis—a.k.a. Minerva—for
her sake.
When a body is encountered at the baths, Philo, an unmarried, local doctor who is attracted to Gwyna,
asks Arcturus to help determine the cause of death. The dead man, whom no one seems to know much
about, was Bibax, a local curse maker. There seem to be a lot of these curse makers, whom the citizens pay
to inscribe curses on thin sheets of tin that get dropped into the water. People also drop expensive jewelry
into the spring, seeking the goddess' favor. A disproportionate number of Bibax's curses have resulted in
convenient deaths.
Ardur has two problems: Gwyna's depression—is it partly his fault? And what is responsible for the
atmosphere of fear and rot at Aquae Sulis? When he and his wife become targets, the urgency is ratcheted
up. A possibly corrupt governing body, the managers and drain cleaners of the baths, that doctor that
Ardur dislikes so much, a lazy but ambitious lawyer of the upper class, plus a necromancer all fall under
suspicion, until some of them turn up murdered. As this quote states: "Wherever you turned in Aquae
Sulis, whatever mean, crooked street you walked down, you always came back to the temple."
If you liked the award-winning first of this series, “Nox Dorrnienda”, you'll love this one.
Reviewed by Kaye George, author of “A Patchwork of Stories” for SuspenseMagazine
FIRST GRAVE ON
THE RIGHT
by Darynda Jones
Charley Davidson, a woman who
does her name proud, strides into
this novel with sass and energy
to spare. For starters, she wasn't
born as a normal person: she
remembers every moment since
she left the womb, she knows
every language ever spoken
anywhere and she sees the dead
who are having trouble passing to
the other side. In fact, that's where
her most special talent lies. She's
the portal through which those
uneasy dead must pass to get to
the good place. She's Darynda
Jones' version of the grim reaper.
But something changed for her
about a month prior. A dark,
smoky being began visiting in her
erotic dreams. She doesn't know
who or what he is, but she doesn't
want him to stop.
In addition to her full time
reaper job, she works part
time tending bar for her Dad's
place, has a private investigator
business complete with an office
and a sidekick helper and is a
consultant to the Albuquerque
Police Department. This last
role is because she assists her
Uncle Bob—a homicide cop—
by consulting murder victims
and letting him know who killed
them. When three lawyers who
were in practice together all turn
up dead at the same time and
none of them saw who killed
them, she has to dig deeper.
It takes all her talents to survive
several incidents—which would
have left an ordinary mortal
dead—and to worm information
out of the living as well as the
dead to uncover a nefarious crime
ring. All this while surviving the
onslaught of the increasingly
frequent visits from the dark,
smoky, sensual being and getting
tangled up in his complicated
existence.
It's a fun, sexy, exciting read.
Reviewed by Kaye
George,
Author
of “A Patchwork
of Stories”, for
Suspense Magazine

45
THE POISON TREE
by Erin Kelly
The bonds of friendship and the lengths to which we
will go for a friend are the central themes in this wellwritten, literary suspense novel by debut author Erin
Kelly.
Karen Clarke is a Linguistics student in London when
she meets the flamboyant, enigmatic Biba Capel. What begins as a
tutoring session in German for Biba, turns into a close and somewhat
one-sided friendship between the two and an even closer relationship
with Biba’s protective older brother, Rex. “The Poison Tree” begins with
Karen and daughter Alice as they pick Rex up from a ten-year stint
in prison and Kelly effectively flashes back ten years to their summer
spent in a decrepit mansion in Highgate. As Karen lolls the days away
in a haze of drugs and alcohol, she learns there is more to the Capels
than meets the eye. They have a family history marred by abandonment
and guilt, and the blissful summer of Karen’s dreams soon turns into a
nightmare.
“The Poison Tree” is exceptionally written. The characters are rich and
full, and so painstakingly drawn that we get to know Biba and Rex right
along with Karen. As their flaws are revealed, we are as disappointed and
riveted as Karen is. The prose is flawless and Kelly successfully draws
out the suspense until you are racing through the pages to find out
what happens next. The ending was amazing and totally unexpected. I
cannot recommend this book highly enough.
Reviewed by Julie Dolcemaschio, author of “Testarossa” for Suspense
Magazine 
Shot Through Velvet
A Crime of Fashion Mystery
by Ellen Byerrum
Quick. What’s your favorite color? If you answered
blue, I have a must-read for you, especially if you’re
into vintage fashion, snappy dialogue and the softest,
most sensuous fabric in the world. Did you guess?
Well, it’s velvet, of course.
Lacey Smithsonian, intrepid fashion reporter for that
other Washington D.C. newspaper, Th
e Eye, has a
dream assignment. She’s to cover the final days of the last remaining
velvet factory in Virginia. The assignment is even more appealing
because her main man, Vic Donovan, has been hired to coordinate
factory security in the sleepy little town of Black Martin, Virginia.
Lacey’s first scheduled interview is with company official Ron Gibbs.
Touring the factory on the final day of operation, Lacey finds more
than fabric—she finds a body. A very blue body…as in dyed blue. All
over. Sheesh. Workers nicknamed Ron Gibbs the Blue Devil and now
he’s very blue indeed. There goes the interview.
Rumors spread like wildfire that Ron’s killer is the “Velvet Avenger”,
whose calling card is a length of blue, velvet ribbon left in the victim’s
hand. Heeding Vic’s advice for once, Lacey tries to stay out of the
investigation, but when the Velvet Avenger strikes on her own turf, at
the offices of Th
e Eye and the paper’s publisher asks for her help in
solving the crimes, Lacey has no choice but to get involved.
Great fun, with lots of interesting tidbits about the history of the U.S.
fashion industry. I don’t think I’ll take that cute, little, black, velvet
jacket in my closet for granted again.
Reviewed by Susan Santangelo, Author of “Retirement Can Be Murder”
for SuspenseMagazine
46
Ghost Country
by Patrick Lee
If you like techno-thrillers with lots of sci/fi moments,
Ghost Country is for you! A bit slow starting, but once
it takes off, hold on because you will be on a very fast
moving adventure that asks you the question, "If you
could travel through time to change the past knowing
what the future holds, would you? Should you?" This is exactly what a
secret organization called Tangent does, slips back and forth in time.
Paige Campbell saw seventy years into the future and what she saw
terrified her so badly she took it to the President of the United States.
Mistake! Leaving the White House, the motorcade carrying Paige is
riddled with automatic gunfire and she is the only survivor. Someone
wants her alive for a reason, but who, why and where did they take her?
That's where we meet Travis who left Tangent for his own reasons,
but must now rescue Paige and find a way stop a catastrophe from
happening. To do this they will travel through time, race around the
world and go head to head with government bad guys. This all leads to
a very good ending, but there could be another book in the works. We
will have to wait and see.
“Ghost Country” is the sequel to Patrick Lee's “The Breach”. While
“Ghost Country” could be read as a standalone novel, I feel that had
I read “The Breach”, I would have had more connection with the
characters, more background and enjoyed the book even more.
Reviewed by Kendall Gutierrez for SuspenseMagazine
Collusion
by Stuart Neville
With his first novel, “The Ghosts of Belfast”, Stuart Neville won many
awards and many admirers. With “Collusion”, the noir sequel to
“Ghosts”, he’s sure to add greatly to both lists.
Set against the backdrop of the uneasy truce in Northern Ireland,
“Collusion” shows us in almost photographic detail the effects of
sectarian hatred in that embittered country. Neville is unsparing in
portraying the hate and suspicion that permeate every level of Ulster
society, including and perhaps especially the Belfast police force, with
whom the main character, Jack Lennon, is trying to make a career.
A Catholic in a traditionally Protestant department, Lennon has been
disowned by his entire family, who—like most Catholics in Northern
Ireland—have an innate distrust of the police. In turn, having learned
to trust no one, including himself, Lennon has abandoned his lover
Marie McKenna and their daughter Ellen. For this sin, he faces each
day with guilt and dread. Meanwhile, swirling about him are dark
forces, men and women intent on violent revenge and the destruction
of everything in their path.
Among those forces is a warped assassin known as the Traveler, who
kills less for money than simply to fulfill his own murderous nature.
Pitted against this almost super-human adversary is Gerry Fegan, a
mysterious killer, himself nearly as savage, yet allied for the moment
with Lennon as they attempt to protect Marie and Ellen.
This is a longish novel, packed with historical and psychological
detail and not one to rush through. For his part, the author resists the
temptation to hurry, as he methodically builds suspense, moving his
characters into position like chessboard pawns until they converge in a
cataclysmic struggle that consumes a full fifty pages at the novel’s end.
Regardless of the length, the reader will have no chance of becoming
bored on this violent journey through a scarred and bitter land. After
all, getting there is half the fun.
Reviewed by James Guy Roberts for SuspenseMagazine

First came Mr. Waldo Lidigger, a friend of hers; he was in love with Laura. Next
was her aunt, Mrs. Treadwell who identified her body and proceeded to faint.
Then there was Laura’s maid, Bessie Clarie who screamed when she found her
dead. Her fiancé, Mr. Shelby Carpenter (played by a very young Vincent Price)
who had been a frequent guest in her aunt’s—who’s very fond of him—home.
Lots of money changed hands between them. It’s interesting to note, even the detective finds himself enamored with her…except for the whole, being dead thing.
This is the real deal; a genuine, black and white who-dun-it. My favorite line was
when Detective McPherson says, “When a dame gets killed, she doesn’t care how she looks.” It was so much
fun to watch the whole thing unfold. Perhaps, old cinema wasn’t broken in the first place, so it begs the question…why’d we fix it? The weaving of this murder was magnificent! I loved this movie.
Laura
(1944)
I wanted to try my hand at watching an old thriller. Something I’ve never done
before that I can recall, so here we go. The movie opens after Laura Hunt (Gene
Tierney) has been presumed murdered. Through New York City detective Mark
McPherson’s (Dana Andrews) investigation, he finds everyone seems to be in
love with her. But, as in any good thriller, things aren't always what they seem.
Genre – Classic Psychological Thriller (NR)
MOVIES
Otto Preminger's classic mystery received four Academy Award nominations.
Reviewed by Terri Ann Armstrong, author of “Morning Menace”, published by SuspensePublishing, an imprint of SuspenseMagazine
(2009)
Genre – Psychological Thriller (PG-13)
The Stepfather
PhotoCredit:Photofest
A man quietly shaves his beard, takes out his color contacts, goes downstairs, makes
and eats his breakfast nonchalantly while each of his family members lay where he
killed them, we get an eerie, precise portrayal and front-row seat to his character
and what was to come…
Something about mom's (Susan, played by Sela Ward) new boyfriend, David
Harris (Dylan Walsh), isn't quite right and Michael—her son, who doesn’t like
him from the very beginning—knows it. A series of mysterious events lead him
to suspect David might be a treacherous, serial killer known for hunting innocent families. Now, all Michael needs to do is gather evidence before it's too
late for his own family.
As Susan lives comfortably in denial land, everyone else around her begins to
question David and his motives and God help anyone who dare get in the way
or even be someone he deems a possible threat. David is a man with a serious
agenda and no conscience.

Nelson McCormick directs this remake of the 1987 thriller based on the real-life story of murderer John
Emil List, which was profiled on America’s Most Wanted ultimately getting him caught.
Reviewed by Terri Ann Armstrong, author of “Morning Menace”, published by Suspense Publishing, an
imprint of SuspenseMagazine
47
Romance
Takes a
Suspenseful
Twist
with Tasha Alexander
Interview by CK Webb
Press Photo Credit: Carrie Schecter 2010
Suspense novels are a treasured genre but, what do you get when
you cross a little romance with some suspense? You end up with the best
of two very different worlds.
Tasha Alexander has been writing romantic suspense since
her career began in the literary world. The end result has been an
unforgettable protagonist in Lady Emily, beautifully crafted plots and
highly researched, detailed descriptions that hurl the reader head-long
into Alexander’s tales.
With six novels to her name that have been translated into dozens
of languages, Tasha Alexander has made a place for herself in the
literary world and, lucky for us, it looks like she is here to stay.
SuspenseMagazine is honored to bring you a little more insight
into this wonderful author.
SuspenseMagazine (S. MAG.): You have lived all over the world and
traveled extensively researching locations for your novels. What has
been the most intriguing and memorable area you have visited and
why?
emostintriguingandmemorableareais
Tasha Alexander (TA): Th
alwaystheoneonwhichI’mcurrentlyworking—Ifallmadlyinlove
48
everysingletime.WhenIwasworkingon“TearsofPearl”,Icouldn’tfathomanythingmore
captivatingthanIstanbul.Ilovedhowitwasatonceexoticandfamiliar,aperfectcombination
ofEasternandWesterncultures.Th
etiledroomsofTopkapıPalacewereunlikeanythingI’d
seenbeforeandthemajestyoftheBlueMosqueandAyaSofiaarespectacular.
But then, the next year, I spent the summer house sitting in rural France while writing
“DangeroustoKnow”.IwasmesmerizedbytheNormancountryside:theskystraightoutof
anImpressionistpainting,medievalhousesfulloframblingroomsandenormousfireplaces
andtheimpossiblyjaggedcliffsofthecoast.Ididn’twanttoleave.YetIknowsomehowI’llbe
equallyentrancedbywhereverIsetthenextbook.
S. MAG.: Part of traveling the world, is sampling the cuisine. What have been your
favorite and not so favorite dishes from around the globe?
TA: ResearchinFranceandtheUKhasn’tprovidedmuchinthewayofculinarysurprises
(partlybecauseI’mnotyetbraveenoughtotryhaggis),althoughIdolovethefoodinboth
countries.Bangersandmash,creamteaandscampiandchipssustainmewhenI’minEngland,anditwouldtakea
seriousandconcertedefforttoeatbadlyinFrance(if,indeed,it’sevenpossible).Beyondthat,Turkeyhas
beenmymostexoticlocationsofarandiswhereIfoundmymostandleastfavoritedishes.
WhileinIstanbul,afteraperfectlygorgeousmeal,thewaitergaveusrakı,awickedstrong
anise-flavoredliquor.Aniseisnotafavoriteofmine—Ineverlikedblacklicorice—butI
managedtochokedowntheshot,notwantingtooffendanyone.Unfortunately,thewaiter
was extremely, extremely generous and kept refilling our glasses as soon as we drained
them.Intheend,Iwoundupcovertlypouringatleasttwoservingsintoanearbyplant.I
onlyhopeitwasn’tdeadthenextmorning.
Ingeneralhowever,Ilovetryingnewthings.Turkishcuisineisspectacularandbecomea
favorite of mine from almost the minute I tasted it. My favorite is a lamb stew seasoned
with allspice and cinnamon and served with Hünkar Beğendi, or Sultan’s Delight, a puree
ofeggplant.Ihadnoideaeggplantcouldbesocreamyandsublime.Myfirstmissionupon
returninghomewastolearnhowtomakeitandit’snowstandardcoldweatherfareinour
house.
S. MAG.: Can you tell us something about you that might shock or amaze our readers?
TA: I am pathologically afraid of birds. Hate them…HATE them. Th
e only good bird is an
extinctbird.Asinthedodo.
S. MAG.: We would love to have a little insight into your writing process. Do you have any
quirky writing habits or must do rituals?
eonlynon-negotiablethingformeishavingalaptopsothatIcanwriteanytime,
TA: Th
anywhere.Idon’thaveanyspecialrituals,buthavebeenknowntostayinpajamasfor
daysonendwhenI’mclosetoadeadline.Getup,shower,putonnewpajamas,work
‘tiltheweehoursofthenightandrepeat.It’smyfavoritewaytogettothewords,
“Th
eEnd.”
S. MAG.: What has been the most humbling experience you have had on
your writing journey?
49
TA:IfeelluckyeverysingledaytoknowthatIcanearnalivingdoingsomethingItrulylove.It’shumblingtoseeyour
workonashelfnexttothatofauthorsyouadmireandsomethingI’dhardlydaredtohopeforwhenIfirststartedto
write.I’mmoregratefulthanIcansay.
S. MAG.: Your bio says you majored in English at Notre Dame as an excuse to read more (of course). Can you tell us, what
were the most memorable books you read during those years and what influence they had on you?
TA: MyroommateandIhadaspectaculartimereading“Th
eCommunistManifesto”outloudandwithdramaticinterpretation
duringoursophomoreyear.I’mnotsureMarxwouldhaveappreciatedtheperformance.Ialsoremembersoldieringthrough
everysinglepageof“MobyDick”,onlytomissaquestiononthesubsequentquizbecauseIhadn’twatchedthemovie.
Asforinfluence,JaneAusten,OscarWildeandElizabethPetershaveaffectedmeenormously.Witisanimportantpartof
thekindofbookIwriteandeachofthemisamasteratincorporatingitintostorieswithoutsacrificingnarrativeorsuspense.
S. MAG.: Having traveled all over, what sets your town of Chicago, Illinois apart from the others and makes it ‘home’?
TA: IgrewupaboutanhourandahalfawayfromChicagoandfellinlovewiththecity
whenIwasalittlegirl.SomeofmyearliestmemoriesareoftheArtInstituteandtheField
MuseumofNaturalHistory.AsmuchasIlovetotravel,Ialsolovetocomehome.I’ve
alwaysbeenanurbangirl.Iliketowanderthroughthestreets,alwayswalking,never
driving,soakingupthedifferentneighborhoods—Iadorethevibrancyofcosmopolitan,
worldclasscities.ChicagogivesmeeverythingIcraveinthatregardandhastheadded
bonusoflotsofnostalgia,too.Noplaceelsecouldeverfeelquitesomuchlikehome.
S. MAG.: What is the oddest, wildest or most unusual request ever made of you
by a fan?
TA: AgroupoffansinPolandwrotetomeaskingifIcouldcomeandstaywith
themandleadabookdiscussion.Ireallywishitcouldhaveworkedout.
S. MAG.: Will you always write romantic suspense or can readers expect to see
Tasha Alexander branch out into other genres?
TA: Ican’timaginemovingawayfromsuspenseentirely,buteveryonceinawhileIgetamaddesiretowritesomething
contemporary.Itwouldfeellikekickingoffapairoffour-inchheelsafteralongnightofstanding.Th
eideaofwritingwithout
havingtothinkaboutanachronismsandwhenwordswereintroducedintocommonuseisintoxicatingtome.ButevenifI
weretowritesomethingcontemporary,I’venodoubttherewouldbeahistoricalelementofsorts.Idon’tthinkIcouldpull
myselfawayfromitaltogether.
S. MAG.: What is the single most important piece of advice ever given to you and one that you would offer up to other
aspiring writers?
TA: Read,read,read—everythingyoucangetyourhandson.Th
ere’snobetterwaytolearnwhatworksinastoryandwhat
doesn’t.
As always promised, SuspenseMagazine brings you the best from your favorite authors, and Tasha is no different. If
you’d like to learn more about this fascinating writer, please take a minute to visit her website at www.tashaalexander.com.
We thank Tasha for taking the time to speak with us and wish her continued success. 
50
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inside military knowledge, Badal has written another timely story that is intriguing
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~Sheldon Siegel, New York Times Bestselling Author of “Final Verdict
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JOSEPH BADAL
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Jayne Ann
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THREE
BESTSELLERS
IN ONE
T
Press Photo Credit: Sigrid Estrad
he author of a string of NewYorkTimes bestsellers, Jayne Ann Krentz
uses three distinctive pen names for each of her three “worlds”. As Jayne
Ann Krentz (her married name) she writes modern, romantic-suspense.
She uses Amanda Quick for her books of historical, romantic-suspense. Jayne Castle (her birth name) is held in reserve
these days for her stories of futuristic/paranormal, romantic-suspense.
Previously, she wrote under four more names as well: Stephanie James, Jayne Bentley, Jayne Taylor and Amanda Glass.
Between all seven pen names, there have been morethan one hundred fifty books collectively.
Krentz states on her website, ‘I am often asked why I use a variety of pen names,’ she says. ‘The answer is that this way
readers always know which of my three worlds they will be entering when they pick up one of my books.’
In addition to her fiction writing, Krentz is the editor and author for a non-fiction essay anthology, “Dangerous men
and Adventurous Women: Romance Writers on the Appeal of the Romance” published by the University of Pennsylvania
Press. Her obligation to her chosen genre has been strong from the very start of her career. Each year at the annual
convention of the RomanceWritersofAmerica she takes part in a special, day-long workshop for librarians and speaks on
the significance of the romance genre.
She received a B.A. in History from the University of California at Santa Cruz and went on to get a Masters degree in
Library Science from San Jose State University in California. Before she started writing full-time, she was a librarian in
both academic and corporate libraries.
Jayne is married and she and her husband Frank live in Seattle, Washington.
SuspenseMagazine is honored to bring you an interview with bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz. Enjoy!
SuspenseMagazine (S. MAG.): You write in three different genres, which is your favorite and why?
Jayne Ann Krentz (JAK): Actually,Idon’twriteinthreedifferentgenres.Iwriteromantic-suspensewithapsychicvibein
threesub-genresoftheromancegenre:historical,contemporaryandfuturistic.Mycorestoryjusthappenstofitintothose
threedifferenttimeframesandIloveallthreeworldsbecauseeachoneallowsmetododifferentkindsofplotsanduseawide
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varietyoffictionallandscapes. Movingfromonesub-genretoanotherrefreshesand
energizesme.
S. MAG.: Is there one genre that comes more easily for you than others?
JAK: Notreally,butImustadmitthatIamespeciallyfondofmyfuturisticstories
becauseIgettomakeupalltherules.
S. MAG.: Is there a book you’ve written that you feel will never see the light of day?
JAK: Nope. Anythingthatunmarketablegottossedatchapterthree.
S. MAG.: As an author, what is the most valuable piece of advice you’ve ever gotten
that you can pass on to others?
JAK: Knowthemarket. TothatoldpieceofadviceIwouldaddmyown: Knowyour
corestoryandknowwhereitfitsintothemarket.
S. MAG.: Do you allow your husband to read and critique your work before you
send it to the publisher? Perhaps even use him as a sounding board?
JAK: No. My husband in an engineer, he is very supportive of my writing, but he
doesn’treadmuchfiction.
S. MAG.: When you write in your different pen names, is the style (not meaning
genre) you use different and unique to that pen name as opposed to Jayne Ann
Krentz’s style?
JAK: NotasfarasI’mconcerned, butreaderstellmethatIdosounddifferentwhen
IwritemyhistoricalsasAmandaQuick. IthinkitisbecauseIuseaslightlymore
formalwayoftalkingwhenIwritethedialogue.
S. MAG.: Do you have a personal mantra?
JAK: Nevershowweakness.
S. MAG.: It’s been said that all authors are loners. Do you consider yourself a loner?
JAK: OnlywhenIwrite. Th
erestofthetimeIneedmyfamilyandmyfriendsinthe
business.
S. MAG.: Do you see yourself settling into just one genre in the future or are you
always going to dabble in more than one?
JAK: ForalongtimeIassumedthatIwouldeventuallysettleononeofmypennames
and the sub-genre that went with it. But that never happened and doesn’t seem
likely, atleastnotintheimmediatefuture. So, sinceIhavebuiltthreeaudiences, I
amnowtryingtoconnectthemviamyArcaneSocietynovels. Th
eseriesisbuilton
trilogies-within-Arcanethatcrossthroughallthreeofmyworlds. Forinstance, my
newrelease, “IntooDeep” (writtenasJayneAnnKrentz) isBookOneofthe Looking
Glass Trilogy. BookTwois “Quicksilver” (writtenasAmandaQuick). Itwillbeoutin
April. BookTh
reeis “CanyonsofNight” (writtenasJayneCastle). Itarrivesinstores
inAugust. Iknow…it’scomplicated.
S. MAG.: When you take time off, what do you do to relax?
JAK: GotoHawaii.
SuspenseMagazine would like to thank Jayne Ann Krentz for taking some time
out of her very busy schedule to talk with us. Her website is filled with interesting
facts and information, such as but not limited to the Arcane Society’s history. If you
want to learn more about this author and her work, check out her website at http://
jayneannkrentz.com. 
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By: Scott Nicholson
L
ongtime Suspense Magazine readers remember
Vicki Tyley and her exciting break-out mystery
thriller “Thin Blood”. In fact, her appearance in Suspense
Magazine contributed to a surge that pushed her up the
Kindle bestseller charts. Fueled by that success and her
follow-up, “Sleight Malice”, she’s now brought a third
release to the table.
Joining her in this month’s column are a couple of
new horror thriller writers whose sales are heating up, a
pilot who has turned his eyes to the fiction world and a
retired university professor who has tossed a dead body
into the world of academia.
In previous columns, I’ve given little lectures on
the growing legitimacy of self-publishing. In an era
when agents charge an up front fee for representation,
Publisher’sWeeklyis selling reviews and publishers like
Harlequin are charging to allow writers the dubious
legitimacy of bearing their imprint, clearly the notion of
“vanity” has taken a left turn. It’s no longer risky to put
out your own work. In fact, the risk is in letting other
people control your money and your books.
Publishing is trench warfare. Here are some
survivors.
VICKI TYLEY: “Brittle Shadows”
www.vickityley.com
Based in rural Victoria, Australia,
Vicki Tyley writes fast-paced mystery
and suspense novels in contemporary
Australian settings. Leading up to her
writing
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and management roles.
“Brittle Shadows”:
When soon-to-be-wed Tanya Clark is confronted
with her fiancé’s naked corpse hanging from a wardrobe
rail in the upmarket Melbourne apartment they share,
her life is torn apart. Two months later, distraught and
unable to cope, she drowns her sorrows in a lethal
cocktail of alcohol and prescription drugs. On the other
side of Australia, a grieving Jemma Dalton struggles
to come to terms with the suicide of her only sibling.
Despite there being no evidence to the contrary, Jemma
refuses to accept Tanya intended to kill herself. Not her
sister. Then the coroner’s report reveals that at the time of
her death she had been six weeks pregnant. The will, too,
raises more questions than it answers. How did a young
woman on a personal assistant’s wage amass shares worth
in excess of $1,000,000?
In a desperate bid to uncover the truth, Jemma puts
her own life at risk and starts to probe the shadows of
her sister’s life. But shadows, like bones, grow brittle with
age. The consequences can be deadly.
Q:Whatwillreaderslikeaboutyourbook?
“Brittle Shadows” is a fast-paced, easy-reading Australian
murder mystery. Though it’s more edgy than my previous
novels, “Thin Blood” and “Sleight Malice”, it will still
appeal to those readers who don’t enjoy gratuitous
violence, gore or sex in their books.
Q: Whydidyougoindie?
It started as an experiment. I’m an Australian writer with
an American agent. After a lot of effort, he’d been unable
to sell my first (publishable) novel, “Thin Blood”, in large
part because most of the publishers refused to even look
at the book. ‘Americans don’t want to read Australian
mysteries,’ he was told. I’m very happy to say that is not
the case at all—more than twenty-five thousand readers
can’t be wrong.
Q:Whoareyourfavoriteauthorsinyourgenre?
Lisa Gardner, Erica Spindler, Mariah Stewart, Patricia
MacDonald and Sandra Brown. My favorite male authors
tend to be more in the thriller genre.
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JEREMY BISHOP: “Torment”
www.jeremybishoponline.com
Jeremy Bishop has, by all outward
appearances, lived a normal life. He grew
up in a nice home, in a friendly seaside
town. But, as is often, the pleasant facade
seen at first glance conceals a darker side.
Throughout childhood and early teen years
he encountered malevolent entities that
whisked in and out of rooms, moved furniture
and haunted his dreams. He processed these encounters
through drawings of monsters and devils, expunging
horrible images from his mind. As an adult, he continues
to expel the monsters of his childhood through his novels,
the first of which, “Torment”, is based on a dream.
In “Torment”, small-town reporter Mia Durante
finds herself having brunch with the President of the
United States on the day civilization comes to an end. An
electromagnetic pulse blinds the U.S.: cars crash, planes
fall and chaos reigns. Power is restored within minutes,
but it’s already too late. Russian nukes are falling. U.S.
allies around the world are all ready wiped out. The
United States will cease to exist inside of five minutes.
After giving the order to launch a full-scale retaliation,
dooming the planet, the president, White House staff,
secret service and those lucky enough to be visiting the
white house, are whisked below ground where they board
several Earth Escape Pods. As the EEPs launch into Earth
orbit, missiles descend.
Less than forty survive the end of the world. When
they return, they’re greeted by survivors of a different
sort. The bloodbath that follows leaves Durante and nine
other survivors on the run. They find themselves fighting
for survival in a world in which only torment remains and
where death is the only escape.
“Torment” holds nothing back. It is a world where
anything can happen and no one is safe. The result is an
unpredictable and sometimes horrifying read. This is a
post-apocalyptic zombie story unlike any ever written
before. I promise.
Q:Whydidyougoindie?
Creative control. I didn’t want “Torment” dulled down to
fit a marketing mold or demographic. I wanted my vision
for this book to remain the way I saw it. And I thought I
could sell it better. So far, that’s proven true.
David Moody, Jonathan Maberry and Stephen King are
my top picks in the horror genre, but also in the more
specific zombie sub-genre. “Hater”, “Patient Zero”, and
“Cell”are all awesome.
TOM WISEMAN: “Grey Skies Ahead”
http://home.comcast.net/~vern_49/GSA.html
Tom Wiseman has been writing novel-length
stories since 2004 and is employed as an
Information Technology Specialist in the
Sacramento area. He is working on his
Computer Science degree and also writes
aviation articles for Examiner.com.
In “Grey Skies Ahead”, Tony Foster
is about to lose everything. Desperate
and on the hunt for a new career, he’s
lured into becoming a pilot for a small
team of terrorists, his questions kept at bay with bonuses
and perks. Once he begins to put the puzzle together, he
questions what side of the law he wants to be on.
A pilot gone astray, terrorist activity across the U.S.
and a devilish plot to kill thousands of innocent lives at
one of America’s busiest airports.
Q.Whydidyougoindie?
Since “Grey Skies Ahead” is my first novel and the ease
at which Amazon makes it to self-publish for the Kindle,
it just seemed to make sense. I would love to find a
literary agent for my next novel and get published in the
traditional fashion, but I’m very pleased to have “Grey
Skies Ahead” available for all of the many Kindle and
eBook readers.
Q: Whoareyourfavoriteauthorsinyourgenre?
Michael Crichton, Dan Brown, Isaac Asimov and Philip
K. Dick.
DEBBI MACK: “Least Wanted”
www.debbimack.com
“Least Wanted” is the sequel to Mack’s
hardboiled mystery “Identity Crisis”,
the #1 hardboiled mystery e-book on
Amazon for several weeks last summer.
The books feature a female lawyer sleuth
named Sam McRae. She’s written and
published several short stories in an
e-book anthology called “Five Uneasy
Pieces”.
In “Least Wanted”, Maryland lawyer
Stephanie Ann “Sam” McRae has handled tough cases
before, but two take a turn for the worse. A poor black
girl facing delinquency charges is accused of killing her
mother. Meanwhile, a white, middle-class man suspected
of embezzling from his employer is arrested for murdering
his boss.
With help from a street-wise friend of one of the
murder victims, Sam discovers the two cases are linked by
the seamy world of girl gangs and computer pornography.
The murderers are prepared to use brute force to keep
Sam from learning all.
As the body count grows, Sam races to unmask them
and clear her clients before she becomes the next victim.
Q: Whatwille-readerslikeaboutyourbook?
My protagonist, Sam McRae, is strong, but not perfect.
She also comes from a humble background and tends
to favor underdogs. The story is complex, full of twists
and suspenseful. It also tackles some meaty subjects: girl
gangs, child pornography and corporate embezzlement.
The book should appeal to fans of both whodunits and
thrillers.
Essentially, I saw no reason not to. At the time I decided
to publish “Least Wanted” as an indie author, I already
released one novel and seen the potential to achieve
success without signing with a publisher. I was also lucky
enough to catch the e-book wave early on and sensed that
things would only get better over time.
Q: Whoareyourfavoriteauthorsinyourgenre?
Robert B. Parker, Reed Farrel Coleman and Mercedes
Lambert are among my favorites.
ROCKWELL: “Sounds of
PATRICIA ROCKWELL
Murder”
Patricia Rockwell spent most of
her career teaching at the University
of Louisiana at Lafayette for thirteen
years. In addition to publishing many
academic articles and a few books,
she was editor of the Louisiana
Communication Journal for eight
years. Her research focused on deception, sarcasm and
vocal cues. She lives in Aurora, Illinois.
“Sounds of Murder” introduces a different type of
amateur sleuth—one who solves crimes using sound
waves. Psychology Professor Pamela Barnes discovers her
department’s star researcher, Charlotte Clark, strangled
to death in the computer lab and she’s determined to find
the killer. She uses an audio recording of the murder and
her expertise in acoustics to identify the killer.
Q: Whatwillreaderslikeaboutyourbook?
“Sounds of Murder” is a cozy mystery. It’s a gentle tale
without much blood or violence, but there is a nice puzzle
to solve for those who like to “solve the crime along with
the detective.”
Q:Whydidyougoindie?
I tried submitting my book to traditional publishers and
realized it would take much too long—if ever—to get my
book published. As an indie author, I’m my own boss and
I can proceed as fast (or as slowly) as I like.
I like so many cozy mystery authors—Cleo Coyle, Nancy
Fairbanks, Joanne Fluke and Julie Hyzy.
Those are just a few. Truly, if it’s a cozy
mystery, I’ll probably read it.
LAYTON GREEN: “The Summoner”
www.laytongreen.com
In addition to writing, Layton Green
attended law school in New Orleans and
was a practicing attorney for the better part of a decade
(even though he still resents having cut his hair for that
first interview). He has also been an intern for the United
Nations, an ESL teacher in Central America, a bartender
in London, a seller of cheap knives on the streets of
Brixton, a door to door phone book deliverer and the list
goes downhill from there.
He has traveled to more than fifty countries, lived in
a number of them and has a burning desire to see every
country, city, beach, moor, castle, cemetery, twisted street
and far flung dot on the map. Religion and cults, as well
as all things spiritual and supernatural, have also been a
lifelong interest. Combine the travel and the religion with
fifteen years of Japanese Jujitsu training and the Dominic
Grey series was born.
Layton lives with his wife and son in Miami.
In “The Summoner”, a religious phenomenologist,
a Diplomatic Security Agent and their local liaison
investigate the mysterious disappearance of a U.S.
diplomat at a ceremony in the Zimbabwe bushveld.
The book is a fast-paced but intelligent read and
combines a lot of different elements: mystery, suspense,
thrills, chills, an ancient cult, romance, politics, the occult
and a boatload of information on an intriguing culture
(Zimbabwe) and religion (Yoruba).
This same combination of elements led to the book
stalling in New York—I had acquisition editors who
wanted to buy it, but was nixed by the sales team because
the book did not “fit” in any category. But my readers love
it and I decided to let the marketplace decide. It’s nice to
have the option!
Michael Gruber, Elizabeth Kostova, Katherine Neville.
There you have it, five authors who never say “Never.”
Load up your favorite device with books between .99
cents and $2.99. Look at it this way—you probably are
paying $15 to $20 for that latest, hardcover bestseller.
Chances are that the ten or twenty indie books you buy
for the same price may yield a couple that are just not
entertaining. Who knows? You might even get fifty/fifty
(which, after all, is about the same odds you get from the
latest offering from a tired bestselling author cranking out
the same formula for the past twenty years). We’re all in
it together.
Scott Nicholson is author of 12 novels, including the
bestsellers “Disintegration” and “The Red Church”.
His newest releases are “Cursed!” with J.R. Rain, the
psychological suspense collection “Head Cases” and, with
William Meikle, Steven Savile and Steven Lockley the
novella “Mostly Human”. Learn more about Nicholson
and get book discounts at www.hauntedcomputer.com.

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LISA JACKSON
Wickedly Inspired
Press Photo Credit: Kimberly Butler Photography
Lisa
Jackson,
nationally
known
for her more than fifteen bestsellers,
including the number one NewYorkTimes best seller
“Fatal Burn” is hoping for another with her latest novel,
“Chosen to Die”.
Involvement with her characters is not atypical for
Lisa, who has often mentioned having to take breaks
from her writing when her characters have gone through
predominantly emotional or horrifying situations. But
she always comes back, usually after a walk on the beach.
Consistently through the years, she formed relationships
of her own with certain characters that have caught her
attention. That tends to lead to their return in future novels.
It’s obviously a deep-seated passion and something she takes
very seriously. Two marks of a very good author.
After more than twenty novels of murder and romance,
Lisa continues to be captivated by the minds and motives
of both her killers and those who are out to capture them.
As she creates the puzzle of relationships, actions, clues,
lies and personal histories that haunt her protagonists, she
never forgets how auspicious she is that none of her writing
is real life. She is however, very aware that the fictional fear
and terror faced by her victims mirror the harsh reality of
the sort of horror and madness that actually do touch far
too many lives and families. Lisa began writing because of her sister, novelist Nancy
Bush. Inspired by the success of authors she admired and
the burgeoning market for romance fiction at the time,
Nancy was convinced they could succeed together. Their
first combined efforts went nowhere. However, each found
success moving in different directions. More than twentyfive years later, they combined their talents again and wrote
the national bestseller “Wicked Game”. It was followed-up
in February 2010 with “Wicked Lies”. Shortly after that,
58
the reprint of Lisa’s “Malice” was published, followed by
“Without Mercy”.
Suspense Magazine was thrilled to learn Lisa has
written: romantic suspense, contemporaries, medievals,
historical romantic suspense (written as Susan Lynn Crose),
anthologies, Silhouette Special Editions, Silhouette Intimate
Moments and Silhouette Fortune’s Children’s books. We are
overjoyed that we got the chance to catch up with this very
busy author to find out a little bit more about her.
SuspenseMagazine (S. MAG.): You are a very busy woman.
Do you have another job besides writing bestsellers? If so,
where do you find the time?
Lisa Jackson (LJ): Oh, no! I’ve been lucky enough to write
exclusivelyforoverthirtyyears.Istartedwhenmychildren
werebabies.Writingismyfull-timejobandIloveit!
S. MAG.: You seem to really become involved in the lives
of your characters. Has it always been that way or did one
particularly strong character pave the way and open the
gates for everyone else?
LJ: You know…that’s a good question; one I’ve never
considered before. Some characters do leap off the page
or become very real when I’m writing. I would say the
charactersofDetectivesBentzandMontoyaofthefictitious
NewOrleansPoliceDepartmentprobablydidpavetheway
for the others. Readers responded to them and though they
were only intended to be in two books, “Hot Blooded” and
“ColdBlooded”, Iendedupdevotinganentireseriestothem,
themostrecentbeing “Devious”, whichwillbepublishedin
April2011.
S. MAG.: Do you think your writing would be the caliber it
is if you weren’t so invested in your character's lives?
LJ: No. Notatall. Ifanauthorwantsthereaderstoconnect
tohercharacters,thenshehastorelatetothosecharactersas
well: Live,laugh,cryanddieforthem. Youhavetofeeltheir
pain, experiencetheirdesires. Iftheauthordoesn’tfeelwhat
a character is feeling in her story, how can she convey that
emotiontothereaders?
fromallsources: somethingI’veexperienced, somethingI’ve
read, aconversationI’veoverheard. Ihavenoproblemwith
inspirationandI’mreallylucky. (Ican’tspellandamahorrid
typist, butIhaveaprettyvividimagination!)
S. MAG.: Whose idea was “Wicked Game”? And when the
time came, did you worry you once again wouldn’t be able
to make it work?
S. MAG.: What did you read growing up? Has one book
always stayed with you?
LJ: “WickedGame”wasanideathatmysister, NancyBush
andItossedaroundforawhile. Whowasthefirstonewho
suggested it? Hmmm. I don’t really remember. Th
ough we
read and edit each other’s work, we hadn’t tried to write a
storytogethersinceourveryfirstattemptin1980,abookthat
was rejected all over New York and never published. Much
laterI’dwrittenabookwithtwootherauthors. “MostLikely
toDie” wasco-writtenwithWendyCorsiStaubandBeverly
Banton and thought I’d really enjoy the experience with
Nancy. Onatriptoawriter’sconferenceinSeattle, wetalked
anddiscussedandformedtheidea. Weevengotlosttalking
aboutourplotanddroveovertotheothersideofthePuget
SoundandtheOlympicPeninsulawhere, inthosedarkrain
forests, theideaof “thecolony” sprouted. “Th
ecolony” isthe
weirdcultthatisthebasisfor “WickedGame” and “Wicked
Lies”
LJ: Oh, man–ONEbook? Seriously? Ireadallthetimeasa
kid. InthewinterinOregonwhenthedayswereshortandtoo
wettoplayoutsideandtherewereonlythreechannelsonthe
television (thatDadcontrolled, Imightadd) Iread. Mywhole
familylovedreading. Somanybooksstuckwithmeoverthe
years. TwothatIlovedgrowingupwere “Rebecca” byDaphne
duMaurierand “JaneEyre” byCharlotteBronte. Later, Iread
“Th
eStand” byStephenKingand “AtlasShrugged” byAyn
Rand. Iwouldreadthesebooksoverandoveragain giventhe
timeandchance.
S. MAG.: Do you think you’ll ever come to a time when you
feel you’ve written enough? That you did it all and will just
sit back and devote the rest of your literary life to being a
leisurely reader?
LJ: Ithinkthatmighthappeninmylateryears, depending
upon how my life goes, but probably only when I’m unable
either physically or mentally to write and publish. I don’t
Trust me, I always think I won’t be able to make a story anticipateretirementatall, thoughI’m certainlycloseenough
work. “Wicked Game” and its sequel “Wicked Lies” are no agewise. HowdidTHAThappen?
exceptions.
S. MAG.: If you could only read one author for the rest of
S. MAG.: Do you and Nancy have friendly competition to your life, who would it be and why?
see who sells more or who hits the New York Times best
seller list first?
LJ: What? No! NancyandIworkasateamandhavealways—
asfaraswritinggoes. We’veneverbeenallthatcompetitive,
which,Iknowisweird, butitworkssomuchbetterthisway.
Eveninhighschool.Nancyhas
been my best friend and
strongest support in pretty
much all aspects of my life
including my career. If you
would have asked me this
question in high school, I
suppose my answer would
have been far different, but
asadultswereprettydarned
close.
LJ: Boy, that’saloadedquestion. Iadmiresomanywritersand
lovetheirwork. Tolimitittoonewouldbetough especially
whenIgothroughperiodswhenIdelveintoawriterbookby
book. IguessI’dgowithStephenKing. Idon’tlikeallofhis
stuff,buthewritesenoughtokeepmybusyandIenjoyalot
ofhisearlierbooks. OrmaybeSueGrafton.Ienjoyherwork,
too.
S. MAG.: What do you do when you take time out for
yourself?
LJ: Itdepends.Ilovetowalkthedogsonthebeach,orhang
withmyfriendsormyfamily. Idothecrosswordpuzzledaily
and exercise to music. I think being with good friends and
laughingismyfavoritewastopasstime.
Suspense Magazine wants to thank Lisa for taking a
few minutes of her time to talk with us. Her answers were
S. MAG.: What inspires wonderfully animated. I think it gave us a real glimpse of
who she is inside. If you’d like additional information about
you?
Lisa, please visit her website at www.lisajackson.com and
LJ:
I get my www.kensingtonbooks.com. 
inspiration from life.
Story ideas emerge
59
Steve
Brewer
"Every region claims its own resident jester-in-crime. Steve Brewer
owns the Southwest."
—National Book Award winner
PETE HAUTMAN
In his second outing, Bubba Mabry
finds himself with two clients—a
vicious pimp who wants to know
who is killing his girls, and a City
Council woman who hires him
to locate a stolen doll collection.
Bubba must confront pimps, hookers
er and the Religious Right to get
to the bottom of things.
......................
Also by Steve Brewer
AAAAAAAAA WWWWW DDDDDDD
BBBBB SSSS
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FALL PREY
NewYorkTimes and USAToday bestseller Allison Brennan is the author of thirteen novels and three short stories. She’s
started, as an only child, by entertaining herself on rainy days by both reading and making up her own stories.
Knowing she had to have a job after dropping out of college, Allison worked in the California State Legislature as a
consultant. But she never stopped writing. In fact, she began over one hundred books that she never finished. After turning
thirty and giving birth to her third child, Allison decided to actively pursue a career in writing. Committing herself to
writing a book from beginning to end, she wrote five complete novels before selling “The Prey” in 2004. Two years later it
was released and nudged the NewYorkTimes list at number thirty-three. Her first four manuscripts have been destroyed and
will never see the light of day.
Crime fiction, mysteries and romantic suspense have always been Allison’s favorites. It certainly comes as no surprise that
her romantic thrillers have a dark, suspenseful edge. Reviewers have called her books—among other things—“terrifying”,
“mesmerizing”, “fast-paced”, “pulse-pounding” and “wonderfully complex”.
With her first book Allison’s publisher asked if she could write two books connected in some way to “The Prey”. Since that
book was already written and in production, the plot options were limited. During the copy-editing stage, she tweaked the
back story of her heroine so that she had two friends from the FBI Academy and they
became the heroines of “The Hunt” and “The Kill”. Her PredatorTrilogy was the first of
four loosely-connected, romantic thriller trilogies. Each story is a complete work with
a separate hero, heroine and villain with some recurring characters that can be read
individually or in order.
Allison’s reading tastes could be called eclectic. She has read many different genres
throughout her life. She was heavy into the supernatural world and penned her first
61
supernatural thrillers, “Original Sin”, “Cardinal Sin” and “Mortal Sin” which were released in 2010. They are contemporary
and grounded in the world as it is today.
In early 2011, she’s launched a series starring Lucy Kincaid, a favorite character from her NoEvilTrilogy. The stories
will tackle complex and current issues in law enforcement through the eyes of Lucy, an FBI recruit, her brother Patrick, a
computer genius who’s recovering from a two year coma and Sean Rogan, a private security expert.
SuspenseMagazine got a few minutes to ask Allison some questions to try and get to know this bestseller just a little bit
better.
SuspenseMagazine (S. MAG.): After reading such a wide variety of genres, how did you come to settle on romantic thrillers?
Allison Brennan (AB): Ilovemysteries,suspenseandromance.Tome,romanticthrillersblendthebestofallgenres—Icanhave
thefast-paceandhigh-stakesofathriller,coupledwiththeforensicsandpoliceproceduralofamysteryandthehappily-everafterinaromance.BecauseIputmycharactersthroughhellandback,theydeservetohavesomeonewholovesthemnotonly
duringacrisis,butwhentheygohome.
S. MAG.: How was Lucy born?
AB: YoumeanasacharacterIhope!WhenIwrote“SpeaknoEvil”,CarinaKincaidwasthefifthofsevenkids.Lucywasthe
youngestbyfar,the“oops”childinalargeIrish-Cubanfamily.She’stenyearsyoungerthanthenextyoungestKincaid,Patrick.
Herfirst“role”washereighteenthbirthday,whichtookplaceduring“SpeaknoEvil”.Wedidn’tseeanyofthatstorythroughher
eyes,butreaderssawherasatypical,happy,smart,college-bound,highschoolsenior.Shehadanothersmallwalk-inrolein“See
noEvil”.Butin“FearnoEvil”,shewaskidnappedonherhighschoolgraduationbysomeoneshemeton-line.Shethoughthewas
anineteen-year-old,collegefreshman;hewasinfactathirty-eight-year-old,sexualpredatorwhograbbedherinapublicplace
becauseheknewshe’dbealone.Shehadamajorsecondaryroleinthatbook,andbothwhathappenedtoheranddecisionsshe
madewillimpactherfortherestofherlife.
FastforwardsixplusyearsandLucyisnowtheheroineofherownseries.
S. MAG.: Who was your favorite character to write and why?
AB: Th
at’sahardquestion!Ilikemycharactersforlotsofdifferentreasons.OneofmyveryfavoriteswasDillonKincaid,who
wasmyfirstnon-lawenforcementhero.He’saforensicpsychiatristwhoisverysmart(Ilikesmartguys)andveryreasoned.He
useshisbrainnothisbrawntogetoutofsituationsandIadmirethat.
MoiraO’DonnellintheSevenDeadlySinsserieswasthemostinterestingandintriguing,andbecauseshewasadifferenttypeof
heroineforme,Ifoundherchallengingandsatisfying.Ireallyenjoyedbeinginhershoesforawhile!
Myfavoritevillain—meaning,abadguysobadhewasfuntowrite—wasTh
eodoreGlennin“KillingFear”.Hewasatrue
sociopathwithnohumanempathy,andhekilledbecausehereceivedanadrenalinerush,theonly“emotion”hefelt.Butmy
62
Suspense Magazine
Review of “Love me to Death”
by Allison Brennan:
With sheer determination, Lucy Kincaid
has beaten the odds. A one-time victim,
she’s worked tirelessly to rebuild her life,
focusing on her goal of joining the ranks
of the FBI despite the lingering anxiety
ingrained from a brutal attack and kidnapping six years prior. She survived and
in a fitting twist of fate, made certain that
her attacker didn’t. She’ll do what it takes
to never be a victim again and try to help
those that unwittingly step into predators'
paths.
While waiting for word on her FBI application, Lucy spends her free time volunteering at a victim’s rights group and surfs
the web undercover to smoke out re-offenders. But as in any good story, the best
laid plans never go smoothly. When Lucy
discovers that the criminals she’s entrapping become murder victims themselves,
the FBI takes a brand new and very different look at Lucy. Now everything’s in
jeopardy, family, her future, maybe even
her life.
With her freedom and future now in peril,
she joins up with Sean Rogan—daredevil
and security expert—and they work to
track their slippery prey. Now here’s a guy
we’d love to meet. Street smart and facing
unfamiliar territory as he discovers that
he wants Lucy to be his, he doesn’t see the
damage that she feels deep inside and he’ll
do anything for her. However, someone is
watching them both. A cold-hearted killer has his violent eyes on Lucy. Her only
means of escape? Perhaps another fight to
the death.
mostcomplexvillainwasprobablythekillingpairin“SuddenDeath”.Th
eyeven
creepedmeout!
But I think I had the most fun writing hero Sean Rogan in Lucy’s series. He’s
arrogantandsmartandcuteandnobleandfunnyandbrave.Idon’tknowwhere
Igetsomeofhisdialogue,hejusttakesover.Hebreaksrules,hasobedienceto
authorityissuesandhedefendstheunderdogorthosewhocan’tdefendthemselves.
He’sa“workhard,playhard”character.
S. MAG.: Is there one book you’ve written that stands out? Why?
AB: Th
at’slikeaskingmewho’smyfavoritechild!Maybe“FearnoEvil”whenLucy
waskidnapped,becausethedangersofon-linepredatorsarerealandIthinkthis
bookhighlightsthetruthofthatthreat.Also,asthemotheroffivechildren,I’m
hyper-awareofsomeoftheon-linedangersandIthinkthisbookshowsthatno
matterhowsafeyouthinkyouare,ifsomeonewantstogettoyou,theycan.
S. MAG.: How do the plots for your books come about? For example, do you
take things from the headlines and embellish or are they original to your
imagination?
AB: Idon’tthinkthatanyonecanavoidtakingsnippetsfromreallife,especially
whenwritingcrimefiction—unlessyouneverreadthenewsorsurftheWebor
research.I’veneversimplyembellishedatruestory.Usually,Ireadsomethinghere,
seesomethingthere,thenathirdorfourthortenthlittlefactoidbringseverything
together, connected by my imagination. I love playing the “what if ” game. For
example,whenIparticipatedintheFBI’scitizensacademy,Ilearnedthatnoneof
thementargetedbyDateline’sPredatorprogramhadbeenprosecuted.Istarted
wonderingwhatwouldhappenifsomeonesetthemup.Whatiftheyturnedup
dead?Whatwouldhappen?Whowouldberesponsible?Whattypeofpersonality
couldturnvigilante?Howwouldtheytargettheirvictims?Howwouldtheyset
themup?AllthesequestionsneededtobeansweredasIwrote“LovemetoDeath”.
Th
en,ItouredFolsomStatePrisonandlearnedthatmostparoleesaren’tsentback
to prison simply for violating parole. With the budget crisis in California (and
aroundthecountry)andprisonovercrowding,mostparoleesneedtocommita
newcrimebeforetheyarearrested.
Th
ose were the two primary ideas that blended together as the impetus to my
newestbook.Butbynomeansweretheytheonly“headline”snippetsIabsorbed.
IreadalotofcrimereportsandIdon’talwaysknoworrecognizewhat’sgoingto
Three circling threads braid this story
together: Lucy's past, the vigilante-murderer of parolees and the stalker. With so
much evil surrounding her, it’s a sad state
of affairs when the good guys begin to appear suspicious.
A fan of Allison’s for many years, you always know what you are getting…a great
story with love ‘em or hate ‘em characters
and perfectly placed plot twists in every
book.
ReviewedbyShannonRaabforSuspense
Magazine 
63
triggeranideauntilmuchlater.
S. MAG.: Who was the first person to discover your writing talent?
AB: Idon’tthinkanyone“discovered”mytalent.Infact,InevershowedanyonewhatIwroteuntilIcompletedmyfirstbook.
(Itwasreally,reallybad!)Iwaspublishedtheold-fashionedway:Iwroteseveralmanuscripts,foundanagentwithmyfifth
manuscript,shesoldmetoBallantineandI’vebeenthereeversince.Maybeitwasmyagentwhodiscoveredme…ormyeditor
atBallantine.Andtalentissubjective—I’vebecomeabetterwriteroverfifteenbooksandIhopetocontinuetoimprovebothmy
writingandstorytellingskills.
S. MAG.: Where do you see your writing in ten years? Will the genre change or will you stay with romantic thrillers?
AB: Tenyears?Ihopetostillbewriting!WhateverIwritewillbeinthesuspensegenre.Idon’tthinkmyvoicetranslateswellto
othergenresoutsidemystery/suspense.Ihopetokeepastrongrelationshipsubplotinallmybooks,becauseIthinktwopeople
loveeachother,thestakesareraisedandthereismoretolose.Ihaveafewideasofothertypesofstories,butnothingoutside
ofthebroadersuspenserealm.IlovewritingwhatIwritenowandanyfuturebooks—especiallynearfuture—willbeanatural
extensionofromanticthrillers.
S. MAG.: How do your children feel about mom being a best selling author?
AB: Th
eyloveandhateit.IthinkallworkingmomshavethesameissuesIdo!Myteenagersareproudofmebecausetheyknow
howhardIworked,bothbeforeandafterIsold,andthetypeofcommitmentanddedicationittakestocompleteamanuscript,
edititandgetrejected—manytimes!Myyoungerkidslikeitbecausemyhoursareflexible,buttheydon’tlikemydeadlineswhen
I’mwritingafterdinnerorwhenItraveltoconferences.AndnoneofmykidslikewhenI’minthe“zone”andtheyhaveahard
timegettingmyattention.Buttheyalllikethatwritingmakesmehappy.
S. MAG.: Have any of your children shown an aptitude for writing?
AB: MydaughterKelly,who’llbefifteeninApril,isaverytalentedwriter.I’vepostedsomeofherworkonmyblog,MurderShe
Writes.Isuspectshe’llsurpassmeoneday,andprobablysoonerratherthanlater!She’salsoatalentedartistandshereviewsYA
booksforRTBookReviews.Mynine-year-oldsonisverycreativeandimaginative,butprefersstoryboardingusingvideogame
characters.Myyoungerdaughterlovestoread,butshe’sonlysevensothejuryisoutonthewriting.Myoldestdaughterisan
athleteandcouldn’tsitstilltowrite!Andmyyoungestson?Helovesagoodjoke.Hemaywritecomedysomeday!
S. MAG.: Who or what is your greatest inspiration?
AB: MaryHigginsClarkwastheyoungstay-at-homemotheroffivewhenshelostherhusbandtoasuddenheartattack.Shehad
togobacktoworkandendedupwritingeverymorningbeforeherkidsgotupforschool.Ididitbymakingsacrifices—lesssleep,
notelevisionandwritingeverynightafterthekidswenttobed,butitwasn’talwayseasy.SheinspiredmewhenIdidn’tthinkI
couldwriteandraisealargefamilyandworkfull-time.Isurvived,andamnowafull-timewriter.
Suspense Magazine thanks Allison for her time. If you’d like to speak with Allison, she can be reached through her
website, http://www.allisonbrennan.com or by snail mail. Watch for much more from this very talented author. 
64
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The
y
r
Focu
s
on
True
Crim
e
otte
Sto
“YUMMY”
A
SANDIFER
n
ROBERT
Forg
By John H. Muller
t 10:30 in the morning on Sunday, August 28, 1994 eleven-year-old Robert Sandifer, nicknamed “Yummy” for his
love of cookies, left his house at 219 West 107th Place in the Roseland neighborhood in the South Side of Chicago.
He said he was off to a gas station at 111th & State Street, more than a half mile away, where local children pumped
self-serve gas for customers to earn tips before station workers would chase them away.
At first glance, Yummy’s bedroom resembled most other Chicago children of his age. Posters of Michael Jordan and
Disney characters were tacked to the walls and ceiling. However, a closer look revealed a boy whose childhood innocence had
long since vanished. Gang insignia was scrawled above the door, gang logos were scribbled on the woodwork.
Away from his house “playing all day” according to his grandmother, Yummy, standing four feet six inches tall and
weighing eighty-six pounds, approached a group of boys standing at 10758 South Perry Avenue near the corner of West 108th
Street around 6:30 p.m.
Yummy, a tattooed member of the Black Disciples gang, approached sixteen-year-old Kianta Britten, asking him what
gang he was affiliated with. The Black Disciples were warring with the Gangster Disciples, another powerful Chicago street
gang.
When Britten said he wasn’t in a gang, Yummy, a member of the Black Disciples set called the
“8 balls” pulled out a .9 mm semi automatic pistol at nearly point-blank range. Britten ran. Yummy
opened fire, striking Britten in the stomach with one bullet and striking his spinal cord with another.
Britten would spend the next several months in hospitals and rehabilitation clinics, unable to walk
for eight months.
Brazen faced in his daylight attack with the eyes of the street watching him, the diminutive
Yummy quickly scurried off.
Arriving on the scene, Chicago police Officer William Callahan knelt over the young victim,
“Who shot you?”
“Yummy shot me,” Britten responded. “I think his name is Robert.” He would later say,
“I knew it was Yummy. I saw his face before he shot me.”
As soon as Callahan supplied Sandifer’s name as the probable
Yummy, captured in a police mug
suspect, other detectives were en route to their offices to look for a
shot used for his funeral program, stared out at
recent photo of Yummy when they received word there had been
the country on the front cover of the Septemanother shooting around the corner on 108th Street.
ber 19, 1994 edition of Time with the headline;
After walking her girlfriend Chi Chi home about one
“The Short Violent Life of Robert “Yummy”
hundred yards from her front door in the 200 block of West
Sandifer: So Young to Kill So Young to Die.”
66
108th Street, Shavon Latrice Dean,
excited about her upcoming freshmen
orientation at Corliss High School,
walked past a group of six children
playing football on the street at 108th
and Wentworth.
At 8:30 p.m., as the sun was setting,
Yummy re-emerged bucking his .9 mm.
Unloading his gun wildly into the
crowd, he struck the rear door of a van
parked on the street while another stray
round smashed through a living room
window.
Sammy Seay, sixteen, had just
caught a pass when he suddenly
dropped the ball at the eruption of
gunfire. Falling to the pavement he saw
sparks from bullets hitting the street.
He was grazed in the leg while another
bullet pierced his left hand.
“I hit the ground,” Seay said. “It was
the second or third shot before I knew I
had been shot. So I got up and I just ran,
trying to save my life.”
After others at the scene identified
Yummy as Seay’s attacker, Seay
reluctantly admitted that Yummy shot
him.
Shavon, fourteen, a next door
neighbor of Yummy, was struck in the
head. She was thirty feet from her front
door. Less than an hour later she died at
Roseland Community Hospital.
“She was lying on the ground,” Delia
Gildart, fifteen, Shavon’s cousin said. “It
was a shock to see her lying there.”
“He probably didn’t mean to hurt
her,” Delia told to a newspaper reporter.
“He was just shooting.”
“It’s just really terrible, but the Bible
says all these things will happen,” said
Ann Jones, Shavon’s grandmother.
As Yummy fled the second shooting
scene he was seen wearing a t-shirt
emblazoned with the word, “Boss.”
By the fall of 1994, fatalism began
to afflict the spirit of the city of Chicago
where the murder of a child was
becoming a shared experience.
On January 3, 1993, Th
e Chicago
Tribune ran a headline, Killing Our
Children that read: In 1992, fifty-seven
children age fourteen or under were
murdered in the Chicago area, felled
bysnipers,sacrificedbygangs,killedby
parents. It was a year for burying the
young.
An editorial in the same day’s paper
with the headline A Record Written in
Blood detailed the death of fourteenyear-old Alvin Gilmore, the 57th child
murdered, from a stray bullet.
As bad as 1992 was and 1993
would be, 1994 saw the intensity and
ferociousness of the city’s violence
reach new extremes.
Th
e Tribune reported in late June,
1994 “more than forty gang members
battled Saturday afternoon in a gunfight
that one police officer compared to the
shootout at the OK Corral” on East
100th Street. Caught in the crossfire was
fourteen-year-old Derrick Henderson,
graduating from the 8th grade the day
before. His death marked the 30th
murder of a child fourteen or younger
in the Chicago area by that time in 1994,
eleven being shot dead in daylight.
Pre-teen and early teen triggermen
were not unprecedented in Chicago,
but they were becoming more frequent
throughout the 1990’s. From 1984 to
1990, Chicago police attributed only
four gun homicides to children under
the age of fourteen, all of them being
thirteen-years-old.
In the four and a half years from
1990 until the time of Sandifer in the
fall of 1994, thirty-four children, aged
“At the age of 11, “Yummy” Sandifer killed
and was killed. His short violent life is a
haunting tale,” read Time’s story.
thirteen and younger, used firearms
in the commission of a homicide in
Chicago. The rate accelerated from six
in 1991, seven in 1992, to a total of
eleven in 1993. Four of the thirty-four
children were twelve, and two were
eleven. At the time, Yummy, a murder
suspect, was the third known case of an
eleven-year-old using a gun to commit
murder in the city in the last decade of
the 20th century.
“In the past three years, there were
twenty-six homicide offenders thirteen
years of age or under, compared to only
four in the previous seven years,” Police
Superintendent Matt Rodriguez said in
early 1994, foreshadowing the violence
that would befall the city that year.
By midnight, now in the early
hours of August 29, the Chicago Police,
working with FBI agents already in
the area investigating gang narcotic
activities, began a frantic search for
Yummy.
“They were twenty to thirty officers
involved,” Detective Cornelius Spencer
said in court testimony nearly two years
later.
Yummy was not unknown to
Chicago police. He had an arrest record
dating back to January of 1992, when
he was eight. Arrested for residential
burglary, auto theft, armed robbery
and shoplifting, Yummy’s record was
mined by police searching for names
of past accomplices to question his
whereabouts.
Not finding Yummy at his home,
detectives followed up on relatives’
known addresses and tips that he had
been spotted in Riverdale, Harvey and
Dixmor, Yummy was not found on
Monday, August 29. He remained on
the run.
“He may not even be aware of the
gravity of what he did,” said Sargeant
Ronald Palmer. “In this ongoing cycle
of gang violence, he might be getting
orders from someone higher up in the
gang. The word on the street is this may
be a gang imitation.”
OnTuesday,twodaysafteraSouth
Side killing, police moved beyond the
Chicagoareaintheirsearchfortheboy,
in what amounts to a search for a 6th
grader, read a story in Th
eTribune.
“I have an extraordinary amount
of manpower helping on this,” said
Commander Earl Nevels. “An elevenyear-old couldn’t very well hide and
elude police if he didn’t have help.”
Dozens of police officers—
tactical units, gang crimes officers and
detectives—joined by members of the
FBI’s Fugitive Task Force fanned out
searching for the boy as far away as
Milwaukee, nearly two hours away,
where Yummy had a relative, Nevels
told Th
e Chicago Sun-Times. The case
was discussed at roll call at every police
district in the city.
Aware that Yummy was a “shorty,”
the youngest member in the hierarchy
of the Black Disciples street gang, police
began looking for him in places where
members of the Black Disciples were
known to live and hang out. One such
place was 118 West 108th Place where
the police went repeatedly without any
success, according to court documents.
On Wednesday, August, 31 Th
e
Tribune ran a front page story with the
headline Killing Suspect, 11, Piled up
Toys, Criminal Charges, that, without
67
giving his name, detailed Yummy’s
height, weight, previous contact with
the criminal justice system and abusive
home life. One story under the headline
of DCFS Says Suspect Scarred Early
referred to an “eleven-year-old South
Side boy known as ‘Yummy’.”
If authorities’ suspicions are born
out, the boy could prove to be a classic
case of a victim-turned-victimizer, all
compressed into a hard eleven-year life,
the story read.
After receiving three calls earlier in
the week from someone who hung up
without saying anything, Janie Fields,
Yummy’s grandmother, bought a calleridentification device. Late Wednesday
afternoon, Yummy called from a
payphone.
“What is the police looking for me
for?” he asked his grandmother. “You
ain’t done nothing wrong, just let me
come and get you,” she responded.
The phone went dead.
Already prepared with clean
clothes, as she had been conducting
her own search for him throughout
the community in her van, she rushed
to 95th Street where he said he would
be. When Fields got there he was gone.
She would wait for hours until 10 p.m.
Yummy never appeared.
Around 7 p.m., Cragg Hardaway,
sixteen and Derrick Hardaway, fourteen,
both members of a Black Disciples set,
stopped by Shanta McGlown’s house.
Shanta was Cragg’s girlfriend.
Around 9 p.m., Cragg received
several pages according to McGlown’s
court testimony. After the first page,
at Cragg’s request, Shanta called the
number on his pager and asked for
Kenny. The person who answered the
phone said Kenny was not there. Cragg
then gave Shanta a different phone
number. She called and told the person
who answered to tell Kenny Cragg was
on his way.
Around 10:30 p.m., Shanta and her
cousin drove the Hardaway brothers to
“Emma’s” house at 118 West 108th Place.
Walking down the street at the
same time, Mike Griffin, a fourteenyear-old member of the Black Disciples,
saw Yummy sitting on the porch of an
abandoned house at 105th Street and
Edbrooke. Griffin stopped and talked
to Yummy, who said he wanted to go
home. After unsuccessfully calling a taxi
from an acquaintance’s house further
down the street, Yummy and Griffin
walked to Jimesia Cooper’s house at
10609 South Edbrooke Avenue. The
68
three gathered on the front porch where
Jimesia’s mother, Cassandra, confronted
Sandifer and convinced him he should
go to his grandmother and turn himself
in.
At 118 West 108th Place Cragg met
Kenny. The two went onto a porch on
the second floor where Kenny said
Yummy “needed to be gotten rid of ”
according to court hearings. Kenny
handed Cragg a .25 caliber silver-plated
handgun. The eleven-year-old knew too
much about the gang and, if caught, his
cooperation could lead to the arrest of
gang leaders. Kenny gave Cragg keys to
a late model, light-colored Oldsmobile
Delta 88. They were to tell Yummy they
were taking him out of town.
Yummy gave his grandmother’s
telephone number
to
Cassandra
Cooper. She then
walked
down
the block to
phone Fields to
come pick up
her grandson.
C o o p e r
reached Fields
on the phone at
approximately
11:30
p.m.
When Cooper
returned to
her
house,
Yummy was
gone.
On Wednesday, August, 31 The
Tribune ran a front page story with the
headline “Killing suspect, 11, piled up
toys, criminal charges” detailing Yummy’s
height, weight, previous contact with the
criminal justice system, and abusive home
life.
While Griffin and Yummy were
on the front porch, a light-colored
car drove down Edbrooke Avenue.
According to court testimony, Griffin
noticed Cragg Hardaway as the driver.
His younger brother Derrick was in the
passenger seat. As the Hardaways drove
to the acquaintance’s house where
Griffin and Yummy tried to call a taxi,
they spotted Yummy on the porch with
Jimesia Cooper and Griffin.
Cragg told his brother, Derrick, to
go get Sandifer. Derrick got out of the
car and walked towards the porch where
Yummy was sitting. Derrick called out
to Yummy, who stood up. Derrick told
him he was on his way out of town and
Yummy needed to come along. Yummy
and Griffin hopped over the porch and
left. With Yummy and Griffin, Derrick
walked towards Indiana Avenue where
Cragg was waiting.
Griffin asked Derrick for a ride
home.
“We are on something. We will be
too deep.”
Derrick said according to court
records, Griffin stopped in the alley and
saw Derrick and Yummy walk down
Indiana Avenue and get into the same
car he had seen earlier. It was now about
11:45 p.m.
Yummy was told to get in the back
seat and lay face down. Doing as he was
told, he climbed into the back seat. They
drove to a viaduct at 108th & Dauphin
Avenue, nine blocks from Cooper’s
home.
Cragg, taking his younger brother
aside, told Derrick to, “Get in the car,
have it running, don’t turn your lights
on, have the car in neutral and have the
passenger door open.”
Yummy walked a short distance
into the tunnel tagged with gang graffiti.
He got down on his knees and was shot
twice in the back of his head with a .25
caliber pistol.
At 12:30 a.m., police found Yummy
lying on dirt and bits of broken glass,
according to newspaper reports.
Yummy was wearing a green and gray
sweatshirt with the Tasmanian Devil
cartoon character on the front, green
denim jeans, gym shoes and a purple
plaid jacket. He was the city’s 637th
murder victim of the year.
“Dead men tell no tales,” said a
thirty-seven-year-old uncle of Robert.
“They put him to sleep.”
At eleven years old, Robert
Sandifer’s execution was a somber and
dramatic epilogue to a seventy-seven
hour manhunt that griped the city
of Chicago and got the attention of a
nation.
YUMMY’S BEGINNINGS
Yummy was pronounced dead at
2:20 a.m. on Thursday, September 1,
1994. Cook County Medical Examiner
Edmund Donoghue, performing an
autopsy on Yummy, discovered the
physical evidence of his hardened and
abusive life.
Yummy, with one, copper-jacketed
.25 caliber slug embedded in his not
yet fully formed brain, had a tattoo on
his right forearm, “BDN III,” which
represented the Black Disciples Nation.
Earlier in the week his grandmother
told reporters he had a tattoo that read
“I love mommy.”
“There were forty-nine scars,”
said Donoghue at the trial of Derrick
Hardaway. “I had to use two diagrams.”
There were so many scars on
Yummy’s body he could not use the
one chart typically used by medical
examiners.
Born in Mississippi, Jannie Fields,
Yummy’s grandmother, grew up part of
a family of twenty-seven. In her midteens, she gave birth to Lorina Sandifer,
the third of ten children from four
fathers.
By the time Lorina was eighteen,
giving birth to Robert on March 12,
1983, she already had two children of
her own. Three months before his birth,
Yummy’s teenage father, Robert Akins,
went to prison on a felony gun charge,
according to Wisconsin court records.
At the time of Robert’s death in the
fall of 1994, Lorina, twenty-nine, had
given birth to seven children and been
arrested forty-one times, mainly for
street prostitution.
At twenty-two months old,
Robert Sandifer was introduced to the
authorities. In 1985, he was admitted
to Jackson Park Hospital covered
with scratches and bruises. On the
afternoon of January 19, 1986, police
found Yummy home alone with his
two older brothers, ages three and five.
Due to severe neglect, the Sandifers
were brought to the attention of the
Department of Children and Family
Services (DCFS) who intervened
in August of 1986 when Lorina was
twenty-one.
“In this examiner’s opinion there is
no reason to believe that Lorina
On Tuesday, August 30, 1994 The Tribune’s
Chicagoland section ran a headline “Investigator burnout is feared at DCFS” with its
lead reading, “The fear is that a tragedy is
waiting to happen. The reality is that it very
well could.”
Sandifer will ever be able to adequately
meet her own needs, let alone to
meet the needs of her growing family,
which soon will be consisting of five
children,” noted a psychiatrist in a
report to the juvenile court. “There
certainly has never been any stability
in Lorina Sandifer’s life throughout her
development periods to the present
time.”
A concurrent report detailed that
Lorina assigned blame to Robert’s
father for injuries the boy suffered:
cigarette burns and markings from a
beating by an electric cord, scratches
on his neck and bruises on his arms and
torso. Lorina than retracted the story,
according to the report.
“He was a nice kid, as far as you
know, being my son. In the time I got
to know him, he was nice to me,” said
Lorina in an interview still available on
the Internet.
When asked, “What did you try to
teach your son?”
Lorina replied, “As far as the little
things that I got, as far as the little cars,
to let him drive me around and stuff
like that, you know.”
As a result of DCFS intervention in
1986, Robert and his three siblings were
handed over to Fields, who “attempts to
almost immediately dispute and deny
the previous allegations” of abuse. “In
this examiner’s opinion, the placement
with the maternal grandmother is not a
good placement for these children, who
are in need of placement in a warm,
nurturing environment, which they
have never known.”
The advice was disregarded. Fields
got the children, raising her daughter’s
four children along with five of her own.
Fields’ home was not a place where,
evidence shows, Yummy was nurtured.
A Cook County probation officer
would testify that young women were
working as prostitutes from Yummy’s
grandmother’s home. According to
Time Magazine, “nearly all her ten
children and thirty grandchildren lived
with her at one time or another.”
To find family, Yummy took to the
streets where he was taken in by the
Black Disciples gang, who nurtured the
development of his criminal nature. By
the time Yummy was eight, in January
of 1992, he had been arrested. In July
1992, at nine, he was prosecuted for
robbery, but the case was dropped when
a witness did not show up. In January
1993, still only nine, he was prosecuted
for attempted robbery in which a gun
was used, but not by him. In April
of 1993 he was in court on robbery
charges for stealing a jacket with several
other defendants, but was released
when the victim could not identify him
as one of the attackers. In May of 1993,
he was charged with attempted robbery,
but the case was dropped in February
of 1994 when a key witness failed to
appear. In June of 1993 he was among
several defendants charged in two cases
with auto theft and arson. One case was
dropped and he pled guilty to the other.
Along with his January 1993 robbery
charge, he was sentenced to two years
of probation in February of 1994 when
he was only ten.
After being committed to Lawrence
Hall Youth Services’ Maryville Academy,
a home for abused and neglected
children in early 1994, Yummy quickly
fled to return to the streets.
According to Newsweek, Chicago
policecapturedhiminJuneandcharged
him with auto theft; he spent the next
monthinajail-likejuvenilefacility. On
July 14th, he pled guilty to a violation
of his probation. A DCFS caseworker
recommended the court keep Yummy
in the county’s juvenile detention
center or an emergency shelter until
the agency could make arrangements to
transfer him to an out-of-state-facility.
With long waiting lists and placements
taking months, juvenile court Judge
Thomas Sumner, unwilling to keep
him imprisoned with older youths
and lacking a facility that could treat
him, released Yummy to the care of his
grandmother, overruling a previous
judge’s order that barred DCFS from
placing Yummy at her house.
Shortly thereafter, on August 15th,
along with a group of youths, he was
arrested for breaking into a school.
Ominously, Th
e Tribune’s Chicagoland
section ran a headline, Investigator
Burnout is Feared at DCFS on Tuesday,
August 30th, while Yummy was on the
run. The story’s lead read: "The fear is
that a tragedy is waiting to happen. The
reality is that it very well could".
In totality, Yummy was charged
with twenty-three felonies and five
misdemeanors in his short life. He
was prosecuted on eight felonies
and convicted twice; sentenced to
probation—the most punitive penalty
available under state law, at the time,
for children under thirteen. Even for
murder, state law barred jailing children
under thirteen in an Illinois Department
of Corrections youth facility.
69
Notwithstanding his predilection
for felonious behavior, some say
Yummy was still a tender child. He
liked the water and began swimming at
a pool on 104th street. He was known
for pushing kids in the water.
A week before his death, Robert
visited his neighborhood school, Van
Vlissingen, demolished in the late 1990s,
on 137 West 108th Place. Psychological
reports taken when Yummy was ten
concluded he was illiterate and could
not perform simple addition.
“He said he had a frog at home
and wanted to give this gift to the staff
member,” said Principal Jacqueline
Carothers, although he had not attended
the school the previous academic year.
“He was smiling and happy…an elevenyear old child.”
DERRICK HARDAWAY
“I talk to the youth when I get a
His conviction was voided by
a federal judge in 2001 who ruled
that police improperly obtained a
confession, but a federal appeals court
reinstated the conviction a year later.
“When I go home I plan to spend
time with my family, especially my son.
I want to own my own business and
start over. I also want to talk to the youth
across the country so they don’t have to
go through what I been through.”
In neat, lightly-pressed print,
Hardaway shared childhood memories
from nearly two decades ago:
“Yummy was the average black
kid growing up in a drug infected
community. It’s millions of Yummy’s it’s
just that Robert Sandifer gained national
attention. He was an impressionable kid
who looked up to everyone that was in
the streets. I knew him, but he was a kid
to me. I was a kid myself, but I was older
and involved in a lot more stuff.
“I don’t have any memories of
hanging
with
him.
I
do
remember
having
a
conversation
with him. I
went to buy a
half ounce of
rock
cocaine
and while I was
waiting I saw
him smoking
weed. I asked
him how old he
was and he told
me he was sixteen. I didn’t believe him.
I got what I came for, smoked a little of
his weed and left.
“I seen him a short time later while
I was shopping with my buddy and he
was with a few more young members.
I remember he said that ‘y’all down
there shining.’ That meant we are living
good or getting money. I laughed a little
because I was telling people the same
thing. I told Yummy he could come
work for me.
“Yummy had a small reputation in
the neighborhood for being wild. He
was a kid who liked guns and he wasn’t
(sic) scared to shoot. The media made
things seem worse (sic) than what it
was.
“When he was on the run from
the police the neighborhood was at a
standstill. It seemed like everything was
in slow motion.
“I wasn’t (sic) involved in finding
Yummy. I always knew who he was with
"It became clear to me
then that there were a lot
of people who failed Robert
Sandifer before the world
came to know him."
chance on my own time. I try to show
them the streets is a big lie that only leads
to death or jail,” said Derrick Hardaway
via a recent letter to this writer from
Graham Correctional Center where he
is serving a forty-five year sentence for
his role in Yummy’s murder.
“Yummy had a small reputation in the
neighborhood for being wild. He was a kid
who liked guns and he wasen’t (sic) scared
to shoot,” said Derrick Hardaway in a letter
to this writer.
70
and where he was at.
"As far as things that took place that
night at Robert’s death I don’t discuss.”
Hardaway concluded his letter by
offering help to this writer or anyone
else in the future, “Just ask.”
“He’s probably going to end up
being a productive member of society,”
Scott Cassidy, formerly chief of special
prosecutions with the Cook County
State’s Attorney’s Office, told the
Associated Press in 2007.
Hardaway’s probable parole date is
2016, when he will be thirty-six, having
spent more than sixty percent of his
life incarcerated. His brother, Cragg
received sixty years in a separate trial.
His parole date is 2024.
“COVERING THE STORY OF
YUMMY” AT THE CHICAGO
TRIBUNE:
“Covering the story of Yummy
happened out of the blue,” says John
W. Fountain, whose byline appeared
on nearly a dozen articles during Th
e
Chicago Tribune’s coverage of Robert
Sandifer more than sixteen years ago.
Fountain,
an
award-winning
journalist, was at the time the chief
crime reporter for Th
e Tribune and
would later work for Th
e Washington
Post, Th
e New York Times and author
“True Vine”, a memoir of overcoming
poverty through faith.
“The stories that are going to be
those memorable ones will evolve as
you begin to report,” said Fountain. “It
was a non-stop story, changing by the
day.
“We had to go out into the
community and feel what the
neighborhood felt like. There was a
tension in the street, you could feel it,
as the police were looking for this child
there was an awareness that Chicago
had been brought into the national
spotlight.
“The attention Yummy’s story
brought caused editors at Th
e Tribune
to pull reporters from suburban beats to
canvas city neighborhoods. Fountain’s
wife at the time, Monica Copeland, was
placed on the story. She was on the street
the day before his body was found. She
had gone to a neighbor’s house. They
told her she just missed Robert.
“There were these sightings of
Robert, but the authorities couldn’t put
their hands on him.
“Growing up on the West Side of
Chicago and being familiar with how
gangs operate, their primary method
of business being street drug sales, if
somebody brings heat on the gang it’s
bad for business. Knowing how quickly
they can eliminate the problem, we
knew his life was in danger.
“People are afraid of gang
retaliation. It’s the whole “don’t snitch”
and “snitches get stitches” ethos. It’s not
surprising he could stay underground.
Clearly Robert must have had some
help, but somebody knew where he was
because he ended up dead.
“What made this story difficult to
cover was that this was a kid—he was a
child who actually looked younger that
he was.
“I covered Shavon Dean’s funeral
earlier in the week, it was the same
chapel where Robert’s wake was held. I
will never forget the fiasco at the funeral
held at a church a day or so later. It was
an almost insane kind of setting of lights
and cameras beaming over the casket.
“At one point Robert’s grandmother
got up out of her seat and all the lights
just pivoted to focus on her. I remember
being very angry that the press would
not act in a more dignifying way.
“I remember two things. His hair
was relaxed in a finger wave style, which
was unusual for a boy. And the picture
on the funeral program was his mug
shot.
“It became clear to me then that
there were a lot of people who failed
Robert Sandifer before the world came
to know him.
“When you are in the midst of
covering something you go into a
reporting mode. You get up in the
morning, you touch base with the desk,
and you go out, gather data, synthesize
it and at the end of the day you go back
the other lil’, young
niggas that’s in a rush
to be gangstas,” the now
deceased Tupac Shakur
intones as an introductory
overture to, “Young Niggaz”
on Me Against the World
which debuted as the number
one album on the Billboard 200 in
March 1995.
“By now, nearly all of us know
the story of Robert Sandifer, known
as Yummy to his friends. He was first
arrested when he was eight years old. A
couple of weeks ago, when he was only
eleven, he became a suspect in the gang
shooting of an innocent girl named
Shavon Dean. Several days later, that boy
died himself in what Chicago police say
was yet another gang-related killing,”
said Bill Clinton in his President’s Radio
Address on September 10, 1994 where
he announced his eminent signing of a
proclamation declaring the upcoming
week
National
Gang
Violence
Prevention Week.
“Robert Sandifer’s grandmother
despaired at his funeral because, she
said, ‘I couldn’t reach you.’ We must
keep doing everything we can to reach
those children. And we must help them
respect the law and keep them safe,”
added President Clinton.
“With piercing eyes and a hellfire
gaze on the unmistakable face of a child,
the same mug shot the family used for
his funeral program, Yummy stared out
at the country on the front cover of the
September 19, 1994 edition of Time
e Short
Magazine with the headline: Th
ViolentLifeofRobert“Yummy”Sandifer:
IS YUMMY FORGOTTEN?
SoYoungtoKillSoYoungtoDie.”
According to the Chicago Police
“I wanna dedicate this one to
Robert “Yummy” Sandifer. And all Department, from January to November
2010 the city saw thirteen murder
victims aged nine and younger
and twenty-four victims ten to
TTENTION
RITERS
sixteen years old. More than fiftyO YOU HAVE AN ARTICLE ABOUT WRITING? How about a short story with a mystery/suspense/
eight percent of the four hundred
horror base? Have you ever wanted to see your work and name in print? If you answered yes, then this is
twelve murders were defined as
for you.
being gang related.
SuspenseMagazine is looking for writers who might have an idea they’d like to share with other writers. Maybe a short
More than sixteen years
story you’d like others to read and enjoy. We’re looking for your help.
after his nihilistic life and death
If you have an article or short story you’d like to share, please, email it to editor@suspensemagazine.com. The work
was seared into America’s
must be in the body of the email, no attachments will be opened. The subject line should read ‘SUSPENSEMAGAcollective consciousness,
ZINE WORK’; anything else will be deleted.
the apparition of Robert
The word count should be kept between 1,500 and 5,000 words per article or story. Any piece submitted over or under
“Yummy”
Sandifer
the word count will be disqualified for consideration. The deadline is the end of business on the second Friday of each
still
haunts
the
streets
month, every month for said work to have a possibility of making it into the following month’s publication. All suband
neighborhood
of
missions are subject to editing at the magazine’s discretion and must be your original work, no plagiarism accepted.
Chicago. 
D
A
and put the story together.
“For those eight days I remember
working continually, I was exhausted.
I remember taking a few days off. A
colleague sent a supportive note, saying
this surely must be taking a toll on you.
“In October, a five year old boy, Eric
Morse, was dropped from the 14th floor
of the Ida B. Wells housing development
by a ten and eleven-year-old because he
refused to steal candy.
“I got a call from one of my editors.
They wanted me covering the Eric
Morse story. I said, ‘I can’t. Not right
now.’ It hadtaken its toll.”
To this day Fountain, a journalism
professor at Roosevelt University in
Chicago, carries around Yummy’s
picture in his portfolio and still has
his worn notebooks from covering the
story as it unfolded. Visiting Chicago
area elementary and junior high schools
regularly, Fountain shares his own life
story and introduces children to the
story of Robert Sandifer. His audience
sits quietly and contemplatively as they
listen.
“They have never heard of Yummy
Sandifer. There are so many Yummy
Sandifers. You can change the name
and tweak the circumstances. It is a
story that continues.
“They are stunned by the story.
They identify with it and are moved,
especially when they look at Robert’s
photo. But rather than asking questions
about Yummy, they tell stories about
someone they knew who was killed,
too.”
W
SuspenseMagazine makes no promises your work will be published, but every piece submitted within the guidelines
will be considered. If you’d like, every story will also be read for admittance to our contest, which can be read about
in SuspenseMagazine or on line at www.suspensemagazine.com. 
71
My
Struggle and JOURNEY
with Suspense
Even cowards can endure hardship; only the brave can
endure suspense.
~ Mignon McLaughlin
I
By Karolina Avalon
have always been quite fascinated by why people like the horror genre. I have never understood it. Someone
suggests watching something like the Saw movies or the Child’sPlay movies and I am suddenly a very busy
person needing to be anywhere but in that room. Yet, the movies are incredibly popular and have a strong
following. Zombie films? Unless it’s Shaun of the Dead, I’ll pass thanks. Is this because I’m a girl? I mean,
psychological studies have shown that even as early as a year old, girls are more timid and prone to show fear
more than boys. The problem with this theory is, I am much older than one year and a lot of my girlfriends love horror and
suspense and desperately try to lure me in to their nefarious horror-fests.
I’m an odd duck though because I can be the biggest wuss on the planet! In fact, I’ll wear it and say it, I can be
downright cowardly! But if you ask me to name my favourite movies, inevitably, Th
e Sixth Sense, Psycho, Fight Club,
Th
ePrestige and Se7enwill make an appearance; either in the favourites list or at least in the ‘honourable mentions’. The
question is, why? It’s not for the gross-out factor or even the chill factor. If I want to have my heart racing, I’ll go for a run.
If I want to be on the edge of my seat, I’d much rather watch an action film. If I want to be scared…well, honestly, I don’t
think I look to be scared in my life. I’m sure we all know what makes for a great suspense movie is the thrill we get from
watching it. Me? I’m all for the psychological suspense. Why is Norman Bates’ mother so controlling over him? What was
with killing poor Marion? Sure, she herself wasn’t the best person in the world, but did that mean she needed to die? Oh,
right. Norman Bates is a little more complicated than that. Awesome!
Same with the movie Se7en: the murders grossed me out beyond belief, but John Does and why he was doing what
he was doing is what really got to me. I can’t watch Th
eSixthSense after seeing it once, the brilliance has been lost in the
first viewing. Even Ten, one of the most fascinating parts of that movie—after I stopped gripping the hands of my parents
and actually opened my eyes—was the story of Kyra and her parents and how tragically she died.
Suspense to me is the thrill of trying to understand the characters' point of view, especially when you’re looking at
the antagonist. Everyone and their dog can identify with the hero of a story at least a little bit. However, the villain…that’s
an entirely different story. It’s the villains that make the suspense for me—their struggle, or lack of, keeps me entertained
and fascinated. Blood and gore may be quite continental, but psychological thrillers are my best friend. 
If I knew what I was so anxious about, I wouldn’t be so anxious
~ Mignon McLaughlin
72
Another
Highway
Fatality
By Weldon Burge
At first I thought it was a motorcycle. What fool would ride a motorcycle in the freezing rain at 3 a.m. in the boonies
of Southern New Jersey? But, of course, it wasn’t a motorcycle. It was a Honda Accord with a broken, right headlight.
No, no. I’m fine. Just a few cuts and bruises on my face from when the window exploded. The paramedics cleaned
and patched me up, gave me something to calm my nerves. I’m fine, really.
Oh, I’m sorry. I gave my driver’s license to the other police officer. My name’s Madeleine Wainwright. Oh, I’m twentyfour. Well, I’ll be twenty-five next month.
I first realized he was behind me around Goshen. He probably followed me when I left the party at the beach at
Wildwood. I shouldn’t have stayed so late at the party, I guess. Anyway, I was on Route 47, not far after the Cape May County
Courthouse. I was taking 47 to Route 40, which takes me straight to the Delaware Memorial Bridge. I live in Newark. Delaware, not New Jersey. I just jump on I-95 and I’m home in no time. Didn’t quite make it tonight though, did I?
A young, single woman alone on a dark highway late on a rainy night, you begin to get paranoid when you realize
a car is following you. I remembered that poor girl over in Pennsylvania. What was her name? Pulled over late at night by a
paroled convict, raped and murdered. It’s a shame, ya know? Those things shouldn’t happen. Makes you think. And worry. I
couldn’t get her out of my head when that headlight was coming up on me.
You have to understand, when I was a student at the University of Delaware two years ago, some creep lurking around
campus mugged me. He followed me from the Stone Balloon after a concert. David Byrne was performing, if I remember
right. You know…the guy from the Talking Heads? BurningDowntheHouse? PsychoKiller? Not into the Talking Heads, huh?
Anyway, this creep waited until I was away from a streetlight to attack me from behind. I mean, I knew he was behind
me all along, pretending to be jogging. Luckily, I had some mace in my purse or he probably would have raped me, maybe
even killed me, who knows. I sprayed him right in the eyes. While he was screaming, I drove my knee into his groin. Then
I just ran. When I got home, I couldn’t stop shaking. I stumbled into the bathroom to shower. I felt so dirty. The guy didn’t
even touch me, yet I felt so filthy. Just the thought of what he could have done to me, the pervert. I cried most of that night,
most of the next day.
Oh, you bet I reported it. As soon as I got back to the apartment, I called 911. The Newark police came immediately
to make sure I was okay and to take the description. I don’t think they ever caught the guy. Maybe this is the same son-of-abitch. God, I hope so. Would serve him right. Justice. Karma. Whatever.
74
So, you can see why I was so frightened. The Accord followed me all the way past Vineland. Practically tailgating
me. All I could see in my rearview mirror was this one headlight, like an unblinking, demonic Cyclops. I hoped he would
turn off once I was on Route 40. But, of course, he didn’t. I was easy prey. He was biding his time until he could nudge my
rear bumper and force me into a ditch. I mean, that’s why the headlight was smashed, right? I bet he’s done this before, God
knows how many times.
When I was finally on Route 40, I slowed down to about forty-five miles an hour. He did the same. So, I dropped it
down to thirty-five miles per hour. He stayed right on my tail for the next ten or fifteen minutes. Then, suddenly, he moved
into the other lane. I thought, this is it. He’s going to run me off the road.
As he passed me, everything seemed to move in slow motion. I couldn’t tell if the car was black or a dark blue or
green. It was too dark and the rain was coming down in sheets at the time. But, it was definitely an Accord—I saw the emblem
on the back when he was in front of me. I don’t know what year. Anyway, as he moved past me in what seemed like slow
motion, I tried to see his face, but it was too dark to see clearly. Just the eyes, hungry eyes that glowed in his dashboard lights
when he swiveled his head to look at me. And, I think, a grin, a nasty grin. I swear, I shivered like someone poured electric
ice down my spine.
Then, I watched his taillights disappear into the distance. I thought, at least then, maybe he changed his mind. He
finally got a good look at me and decided I wasn’t his type, that he didn’t want me after all. Just the same, I kept the speedometer on thirty-five for the next ten minutes or so. I wanted as much distance as possible between me and that psycho.
When the rain became torrential, I pulled off the highway and tried my cell phone, tried to call my mom. My hands
were shaking so bad, when I tried to punch the numbers on the phone. I had to redial it three times to get the number right.
Get a grip, I kept telling myself. He’s gone. You’re safe. Get a grip!
Mom picked up on the third ring. I’m sure I woke her. When I heard her voice, I started to cry.
I’m sure I was blubbering at first, but I managed to say, “Mom, I think I’m in trouble. I think a man was following
me in his car.”
“Calm down, honey. Where are you now?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere in New Jersey. Please help me.”
Then, I just couldn’t stop crying and trembling.
She said, “Find a convenience store, someplace where there are other people, and then call back, okay honey? Stay at
the store until Dad and I get there.”
Then the phone crackled and died. I always forget to recharge the battery and I don’t own one of those adapters you
plug into the cigarette lighter. I’m going to have to buy one. I’m sure my mom is going nuts with worry. Can I call her now, let
her know everything is okay? Oh, someone has already contacted my parents? Good. Thank you. That makes me feel better.
Anyway, when the rain let up and I wasn’t shaking so badly, I pulled the car back on the highway. The Accord was
long gone. Near Elmer, I saw a Wawa convenience store—or maybe it was a 7-Eleven, I’m not sure. I did exactly as my mom
said. I pulled into a parking spot directly in front of the store.
There were two pay phones just outside the front doors. One phone had no receiver, someone ripped out the cord.
The other phone was occupied by a large, skuzzy guy with long, greasy, dirt-blond hair. He wore a black, leather jacket with
a serpent or dragon on the back. A biker, I thought.
When I approached him, he looked up at me, smiled and said, “I’ll be done in a minute, darlin’.”
That’s when I noticed he had the tattoo of a snake coiled around his neck, starting somewhere below his collar and
working partially up the side of his left cheek where the snake’s head was poised as if to strike. It was so odd, it really creeped
me out. I didn’t say anything, just hurried past him into the store.
A teenaged boy—probably fresh out of high school—stood behind the counter making sandwiches. He had all the
meats, cheeses, lettuce, tomatoes and pickles laid out to create an assembly line of subs for tomorrow’s customers. He looked
up at me when I came through the door.
“Do you have another phone?” I asked.
75
“Not for customers. Pay phone’s right out there.”
“It’s an emergency.”
“Sorry lady,” he said. “You’ll have to wait until Mr. Anaconda’s off the pay phone. The boss doesn’t allow patrons to
use the store phone.”
The kid returned to making the subs. End of conversation.
I caught the biker on the phone outside staring at me through the storefront window. He averted his gaze when I
turned toward him. That’s when I saw, behind him in a far corner of the parking lot, the Accord with the smashed headlight.
Was it there when I pulled into the parking lot? I hadn’t noticed.
I started trembling all over again. Oh God, oh God, ogod, ogod-ogod-ogod! Beside the kid behind the counter, there
were only two other people in the store. An older woman, probably in her early sixties, was checking out the snack food aisle;
she already had a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos in one hand. A young woman, not much older than the boy behind the counter,
was reading a Cosmopolitan near the magazine rack, cracking gum as she chewed—either the sandwich-maker’s girlfriend
or another store employee.
Mr. Anaconda was staring at me again.
I bolted out the door.
I fumbled for my car keys in my coat pocket, but my hands shook so bad that I dropped the keys in a puddle next to
my car.
Behind me, Mr. Anaconda said, “Hey, darlin’, I thought you wanted to use the phone.”
I ignored him. I started to cry as I searched the freezing water with my bare hand. Where were the damn keys?
“I’ll be done in a minute,” Mr. Anaconda said. “I’m just talking to my old lady, letting her know I’ll be home late
tonight.” He chuckled.
Then, thank God, the key ring encircled my thumb and I yanked the keys from the water. As I stood, I realized I
never locked the car. I flung open the car door, slid into the seat—and couldn’t get the key into the ignition. My fingers were
numb from the cold water and I dropped the keys on the floor. I had to feel beneath the seat to find them.
Mr. Anaconda had his back to me then, still talking on the phone or pretending to, I don’t know.
The key finally found the slot and turned. The engine vroomed. I slammed the car into reverse, turned the wheel
sharply, backed out of the parking spot, then stomped on the accelerator and got the hell out of there. As I left the parking lot,
I looked in the rearview mirror. Mr. Anaconda was no longer on the pay phone. He now stood in front of the store, watching
me head toward the highway.
Why didn’t I stay there, like my mom said? Stay there with an old lady and two kids my only protection? You kidding? He could walk in, waste all three in the blink of an eye and then rape me in the back room for hours before slitting my
throat. No way. I had to get out of there!
Anyway, less than a mile down the road, I saw the single headlight in my rearview mirror again. I stepped on the gas,
despite the pounding rain. If only I could get to the Delaware Memorial Bridge, get to I-95.
The headlight loomed larger in my mirror. No other cars on the highway.
My foot pressed the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer rushed toward sixty, seventy and eighty. Then, the car
hydroplaned, sliding sideways toward the edge of the road. I turned the wheel, tried to correct the skid. I screamed and cried
at the same time, as my hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. The rear end of my car clipped a mailbox at the end of
someone’s driveway, spinning me backwards. For a moment, I actually faced the single headlight coming toward me.
Then the car slammed backwards into the ditch. My face must have smacked the steering wheel, because afterward
I tasted blood in my mouth and my head throbbed mercilessly.
The Accord stopped right in front of me. The rear of my car was in the ditch. I don’t think the front wheels even
touched the ground. My headlights were angled up toward the highway and I could clearly see him getting out of his car,
coming toward me. The rain was heavy, but I could see that he now wore a hooded raincoat. I couldn’t see his face because of
the hood, but I knew he was grinning from ear to ear. He’d won the game. He was ready to claim his prize.
The gun? Oh, it’s registered in my name. Jerry, my ex-boyfriend, took me to buy it after the mugging incident. Actu-
76
ally, I have two guns. I keep one in my bedroom under the mattress. The other I keep in a box under the front seat of the car.
It’s a .32. No, a .38.
Yes, I took the gun from beneath the seat, flipped the safety off and held it in both hands to the left of the steering
wheel, out of sight by my side.
It was weird, but I wasn’t screaming any more. Or crying. My hands were shaking, yes, but something changed in my
head, in my pattern of thinking. It was do or die. I had no place to run. I would not let him touch me. Never, ever, ever, ever.
He stood just outside my car door, looking in at me and sizing up the situation. He couldn’t see the gun, probably
never even suspected it. I couldn’t look directly at him. I focused on the center of the steering wheel, prayed that he’d go away,
that he’d leave me alone.
He rapped on the car window.
“Are you okay, miss?” The voice was strange, almost sympathetic.
I didn’t answer. Go away, I thought. Don’t make me kill you. Please, don’t make me. Don’t make me.
He rapped on the window again, a little harder this time.
“Are you all right?” he said. “I’ve got a cell phone if you need help.”
Go away. Goaway, goaway, goaway, goaway, goaway.
He started to open the car door.
Noooooooooooooooo!
I lifted the gun and just started pulling the trigger. The first shot exploded the driver’s side window, spraying me with
glass and knocking me into the dashboard. I must have passed out. I don’t remember anything else.
The next thing I knew, that other police officer was staring at me through the shattered window. He’s kind of a creepy
guy too, isn’t he?
New Jersey State Trooper Eric Keiler left Madeleine in the back seat of his patrol car. He hoped her handcuffs weren’t
too tight on her wrists.
He approached his fellow officer, Joe Davis, who stood next to the black Accord with the broken right headlight. Joe
had been the first cop on the scene—the first to find the body sprawled in the breakdown lane, the first to find Madeleine
unconscious and bloodied in the front seat of her white, Nissan Sentra.
Eric stood next to him for a moment in silence. The two of them scrutinized the Accord. They wouldn’t touch either
car until the Medical Examiner and the forensics team arrived and given them permission to do so.
Eric said, “She’s calmed down now, Joe. She was so freaked out when you tried to question her.”
“She was yammering so fast, making no sense. Her story was so disjointed. I figured I better wait ‘til you got here.
You’re better at this sorta thing than I am.”
“Sounded like she went through quite an ordeal. I put in a call for a female counselor, just to be safe.”
“She doesn’t know, does she?”
Eric sighed, scratched the back of his neck.
“I don’t think so. If so, she’s deep in denial. Did you ID the corpse?”
“Yeah, I checked the license, called Dispatch. They contacted the Delaware DMV to confirm. Mrs. Iris Dodds, fiftynine, mother of two grown children. Wife of a Presbyterian minister in Wilmington. Apparently she was returning from a
visit with her sister in Cape May. Look, there’s an open bag of Cool Ranch Doritos on the seat. She probably had the munchies
on the way back from the shore.”
“So, you think she just stopped to help?”
“Yeah, probably.”
Both cops looked at the tarp-covered corpse on the side of the highway.
“Guess it doesn’t pay to be a good Samaritan these days,” Joe said. 
77
Morning
Menace
TAKE A NEUROTIC WOMAN WITH AN ATTENTION TO DETAIL
AND THROW HER IN THE MIDDLE OF A MURDER INVESTI
GATION ON A FARM AND YOU GET MORE THAN HORSEPLAY.
STARLEEN MADDOX IS THRUSTUNBEKNOWNST TO ANY
ONEINTO THE LIVES OF THE GRAYSON FAMILY AS THEY
TRY TO FIGURE OUT WHO’S STEALING THEIR FARM SUPPLIES
AND KILLING THEIR HORSES. ADD TO THE MIX FEUDING
BROTHERS, FAMILY HONOR AND A RICH HORSE BREEDER
FROM TEXAS, AND NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS.
ddggggggggdg gggg ggggg dggggggg gggggggg gggg
ggggggggdgd�gggggdg�gggggdgggggggggggggdgggdgggg
dgggggdggggggggggggggggggggggggdgggggdgggg
g�ggggggggggggdgggg�ggggggggggggdgggg�gggggggg
gggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggdggggggggggg
gggggggggggggggggggggggggdgggggggggdggggggggg
ggggggggggggggggdggggggggggggggggdgggggggggggg
gggggggggggggggggggggggdggggdg
dgd�d�ddddg�ddd�ddd
dCaptivatingggggg gggggg ggggggg ggggg gggg
gggg ggg gg ggggggg gggg gggggggggrivetingggggg
ggggg ggggggggggg gggggg ggggggg ggg ggggggg ggg
ggggggggggga must readdddddddddddddddddddddddd
ddddddddddddddddddddddddd
ddddddddddddddddddddddddd
ddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd
ddggggggdggggggggd
Now Available on Amazon Kindle
Romantic Suspense
1. Lora Leigh, “Renegade”
2. Jennifer Greene, “Irresistible Stranger”
3. B.J. Daniels, “High-Caliber Christmas”
4. Elle Kennedy, “Her Private Avenger”
5. Debra Webb, “Colby Core”
6. Nora Roberts, “The Search”
7. Cindy Dees, “Medusa’s Sheik”
8. Karen Whiddon “Profile for Seduction”
9. Lynn Michaels, “Aftershock”
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15. Jayne Castle, “Midnight Crystal” (Book Three
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16. Kathleen McGowan, “The Poet Prince”
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18. Heather Graham, “Ghost Moon” (Bone Island
Trilogy)
19. Elizabeth Jennings, “Shadows at Midnight”
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22. Cherry Adair, “Black Magic”
23. J.D. Robb, Mary Blayney, Patricia Gafney and
Ruth Ryan, “The Other Side”
24. Lisa Jackson, “Running Scared”
25. Nancy Bush, “Blindspot”
79
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