FOGSTALKER A Nick and Sarah Mystery |
A surging mystery, where the rash search for truth makes hunter a target and killer a victim. |
Shocked by the brutal murder of a reckless beauty, Nick and Sarah are ripped from the calm of early retirement on the casual coast of Northern California's Monterey Bay. Discovering the victim is a young friend's fiancee, they are pulled into a frustrating snarl of hypocrisy and mounting threat. Knowledge brings danger when they can't tell the Sheriff, and their stubborn search for truth attracts a killer's interest and pits them against an old enemy. Retirement is more stimulating than they thought! Will they ever relax again? |
Reader reactions: "The author handles a complex story well, describing his characters and their motivations clearly while keeping the plot moving steadily along...very entertaining...can't tell you how much I enjoyed reading it."--Menlo Park, CA. "I was hooked in the first two chapters..."--Los Altos, CA. "Interesting characters and locations, yet kept the action rolling without bogging down in lengthy descriptions...easily as good or better than many mysteries I've read lately..."--Campbell, CA. |
Trade paperback...Publication date: May, 2000...ISBN 0-595-09764-2...309 Pages |
Chapter 1 begins... Brian's head wound bled into the rug, and Karen knew he was dead by the empty stare in his wide-open eyes. She was unhurt, but desperate. I can't be caught! I can't Now she had to get away from this room without being seen, out of Capitola without being noticed, and home in time to convince Jon she hadn't gone out at all. Hurry! With one glance at Brian's carefully-cut black hair, she stepped over his crumpled body on her way out. Check keys, crack the door, balcony empty, street vacant. The fog will help, but my hair draws looks. The keys, a lifeline--and if dropped in her purse like most women, what would she do? Thank God for habits! Never lose your vehicle. Never strand yourself. Always keep your keys. When you drive for a living, you learn fast. She had other habits, too: decide quickly, act immediately, trust your instincts--lessons that help. Delivery driver and bicycle messenger are hard jobs anywhere, but Berlin's traffic and predators had shown her death, violent and random, so Brian's bad luck wouldn't stop her now. He'll leave if I'm caught--see the truth--know my secrets. The next few hours would make or break her chance for success in America. Purse gone, forgotten, she reached the street, clutched her keys, and started back down the hill towards the Esplanade. So far, good. Scanning behind her, around her, Karen felt fog on her skin and danger just out of sight. Where is he now? Is he watching? Will he change his mind? Brain's death was senseless, impulsive, pointless. Hurry! The urgent neon glow from the bars and restaurants lining the beach was diffused by heavy fog. It tempted her to dash for cover, but running was foolish, would draw attention, and she wanted to disappear from the Village as quickly as possible. Clear of the motel, she felt better: confidence building, mind working deliberately. Wits and speed would save her. She became eager to reach home. I can't lose my chance--only it's hard to change, to ignore needs, to break habits. Always men--a hunger that almost killed me! A warning to stay with Jon, quit the others, be patient. Now, what to do? Think! Think! Think of a story. Play an aria. Play them...a purse-snatching...an attack while shopping, far from Winner's, away at the mall. Good! Be indignant. Be offended. Be frightened enough, and they'll believe you, the poor bewildered fraulein. Scared little blonde, yes? Thankfully, the robber hadn't had time to mess her up, or molest her, either. He'd looked at her that way, hard eyes under the black hood, but must have been afraid someone had seen him shove them into the room, since he hadn't taken her. She realized she'd be left unharmed when he didn't follow after pushing her into the bedroom. Then he'd blocked the door--but not very well--and a few kicks had broken her out. It made no sense to kill Brian just to steal a purse, even in America, and she didn't understand. Are they really all cowboys? And a gun, too! If he meant to kill, he'd have shot us both, so--a mistake--He probably just hit too hard. He did look strong. Reaching the car, Karen shielded her face from the lights as she tucked herself down and in. A street light lit the interior when she backed out, and she wished she weren't wearing the pink blouse, a bright attraction, unwanted now. Wait! My jacket! She'd covered up when she left the bar. In the room with the body? Going back was too risky! Had she trapped herself? Fear, then denial. My name's not on it, can't be traced--just a leather jacket. The pockets? No, my things are in the purse, and that's gone. Ironically, good, given the circumstances. I have to get home! Driving carefully past lighted Village shops, Karen eased her car uphill, took a firm right onto Park Avenue, and raced along the back way towards Seacliff, violin case sliding across the rear seat with each sharp turn. A clean escape, she hoped, with no ties to Brian, and if only she could avoid complications, her evening's misfortunes could be explained away as mere bad luck on an impulsive shopping trip. I'll get sympathy from Jon...the friendly neighbors...and even the supple ladies from the yoga studio. She felt calm, almost safe. The persistent fog spilled over the brink of the coastal cliff and drifted in wispy tendrils through the neighborhood, so she slowed as she drove up her block. No accidents, please, so close to home. Finally, she turned into her driveway, headlights sweeping momentarily across the yard, nasturtiums, and entrance to the small house. All clear. All quiet. Light hit the front of the garage and splashed down the side, as Karen stopped the car, popped out with the keys, then bent at the waist and reached back in for the switch. + + + + + + Deecy had trouble finding the keys by feel. The damn little purse seemed to be full of small, loose metal objects that rattled softly in his rummaging fingers but didn't feel like keys. Maybe it's th' gloves, he thought. Maybe he should risk removing them. Now that he finally had the purse, he wanted to nail this tonight, grab the stash and be out of the stalking business. Maybe the Slickman would pay him pronto and he could be long gone by tomorrow night. He was well-hidden in the deep darkness behind the house, and he'd worn all black--sneakers, jeans, hooded sweatshirt--and finished it off with a stylish pair of black leather driving gloves. An' it works, man! Ain't no one gonna pick my honky face outta these shadows. Still, he had to work quickly and in small motions. Black creep suit or no, Deecy didn't want to wake the neighbors or get spotted by anyone accidentally catching random motion in the darkness outside their house. He just couldn't find the keys, and it was starting to piss him off! Christ, gimme a break! At least he wasn't worried about the babe coming home and walking in. Even when she got through the blocked door, what could she do? He had her keys in the purse, so she wouldn't be driving--and she couldn't call the heat, for sure. That hot little number was cheating on her boyfriend, and Deecy didn't figure her to cop to it. Of course, the dude with the fancy hair would probably call the police when he woke up, but Deecy was pretty sure the Karen chick wouldn't let herself get sucked into that. Maybe she'll go back an' try again, he thought. She'd struck him as a pretty hard lady when he'd tried to hit on her earlier. Where's th' damn keys?! Time pressure now, frustration growing. Takin' too long. Gottabe here! Lights burst abruptly against the backyard fence as a car pulled in--too far to be turning around. Deecy flattened himself against the house and held his breath, panic hovering. What th' hell?! Was Jon home early? A car door opened. Deecy eased down the side of the garage and risked a quick peek around the corner. No way! The Karen chick was leaning into the shabby car to cut the lights. She's here! Deecy was confused. He watched her hit the light switch, straighten up, close the door, and then he saw her clearly. Th' keys! The whole ring was in her hand: car keys, house keys. Not in th' purse! Don't have 'em! Hate it! After all this, he still came up empty. Back turned, she headed towards the house. Ain't lookin'! His blood tingled, ready to spark. Now! Gottabe now! clutching the purse, Deecy charged. + + + + Karen sensed motion behind her and heard the gravel crunch of running feet. Without wasting a fragmentary look, she sprinted across the tiny lawn on pure instinct. Get away--then find help! The neighbor's side window opened. "Hey!" the man yelled. "What's going on?!" as Karen reached the street. Her unknown pursuer slipped as he cut sharply off gravel to lawn, and she glanced back, running, at the stumbling hooded man. She knew him--and it shocked her into terror! The killer! The dark man! He followed me! Karen screamed once and dashed down the street, racing for her life. He'll kill me this time! He came to find me! He'd killed Brian, and she could describe him, identify him. He needs me dead! + + + + Her look told Deecy she knew he'd have to kill her. No hesitation--off like a rocket as soon as she saw him! Over the lawn, down the street, one short scream, sprinting like hell, golden hair flying! She remembered him and had linked him to their house. Still has th' keys, an' damn, she's fast! Baby, ya're history! Easy to think, but the girl could run! Deecy got up on his toes and dug like crazy. His ass would be lagging if he hadn't been lifting. Dogs barked at the noise, and doors opened, lights blinked on, voices questioned: time running out, keys flashing in her pumping hand. Karen couldn't waste breath on another scream. The monster was too close and gaining. Please, someone help! Please! Racing death, running hard, strong desperate legs propelling her to the bluff at the end of the block, the one above the creek. Maybe she could slide down and lose herself in the tangled brush above the creekside homes. Too close! He's too close! Karen cut to her right, following the curving road around towards the ocean, towards the fog spilling over the cliff above Seacliff Beach. The asphalt road was the only space to run, and she flew through the night with furious energy. One block! Two! If she couldn't outrun him, she'd have to fight until someone came to help. How close now?! She heard his gasping breaths. How close?! + + + + As they reached the street bordering the cliff, Deecy sucked up all his strength and threw it into a final desperate burst. Dropping the purse, he launched himself at the racing blonde in a flying tackle, and they came down hard in the pitted road edge of chipped asphalt and slid harshly into the small shrub bed between walking path and street. Nobody yelled, although both lost some skin. With the babe facedown, Deecy crawled up her back, reaching for her throat. Karen was a fury! She twisted violently, flipping onto her back, and the turning blur of her pink blouse flashed across Deecy's vision. Instinctively, her out-thrown left hand seized a palm-sized chunk of broken roadway, and as Deecy grabbed for the keys, she heaved her torso up and cracked the jagged piece into the right side of his head just above the ear. Dazed for a heartbeat, he sagged with pain and surprise and rolled off, supporting himself by his left hand braced on the ground. Karen took the opening, gathered her legs,and came up immediately, driving hard and ripping the keys in a vicious right-hand slash across his body, up and out, blocking the key hand upward, and Karen spun right, hair swirling, coming back to her feet and staggering across the narow path into the iceplant between path and bluff. She recovered fast and tried to claw at Deecy's face while he straightened up, but this time, squared to meet her, the hooded man focused on the keys. He caught her arm with his left hand, turning into her advance and slamming the heel of his right hand into the wrist, inside his grip. White pain, wrist snapping, sharp crack! As the big man tore the keys away, she screamed, and he spun her to the side, her back to the ocean. They faced one another in a strange calm of ragged breaths. Karen's teeth gritted in pain and fury, and her confidence shivered and blurred. She saw cold blue eyes, stubby blonde hair, blood where she'd cut him, sweat on his cheeks. Is he winded?! Scream and run! "Geh weg!" she yelled, then charged. What?! Wadda she call me? Tough lady, coming again, mouth open, scream building. Deecy was balanced now. As Karen tried to throw herself past, he slide-stepped to meet her, raised his right leg, rotated his hip, and cracked a solid sidekick straight into her midriff, just under the ribcage. The bursting scream choked into grunt as the air left Karen's lungs, and she bent forward in the middle, arms and legs splayed out towards him, eyes bulging, feet rising from the ground and floating backwards, falling away. Only Deecy saw her fly off the cliff, dive into the fog, and disappear into the darkness. |
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