CREATING KATHRYN CROWN SAMPLE CHAPTERS, PROLOGUE

Prologue

 

The odor of death, hot and coppery, melded with the humidity and swept through the room, carried on the dense sea breeze.  A last ray of sunlight breached the open French doors and cut a swathe across the beige carpet to illuminate an area in the deep shadows.  In the fading light, the woman could see a body on the floor next to the brown sofa, abundant silver curls haloed in a pool of blood, the battered face half hidden by the shadows.  Bile rose in her throat causing her to almost gag.

Car keys clutched tightly in her hand, she hid outside the room’s entrance and gripped her purse to her chest hugging the door frame praying to remain unseen.  Just when she thought escape was within her grasp, a dark form catapulted out of the gloom and charged across the room toward her.  She screamed, turned and bolted.  Each footstep echoed as she raced down the hall past a wall mirror.  The glass briefly captured the image of a shocked white face with a mane of long dark auburn hair.

She fought the front door’s brass knob, twisting it violently, and succeeded in jerking the door open to tear down the flagstone steps to the car parked in the curved driveway.  Thank God she had forgotten to lock the driver’s door.  Once behind the wheel, she hit the lock button, rammed the key into the ignition and turned it.  The engine roared to life.  Rubber tires screamed as she barreled down the quiet street to the highway and toward the bridge.

Eyes wide with fear, she kept glancing in the rearview mirror to see twin globes of bright light rapidly gaining on her.  She rammed her foot down on the accelerator.  The Mustang shot forward at eighty, than ninety miles per hour.  The speedometer continued to climb.  One last time she took her eyes off the road to check the rear view mirror.  That was the last act she committed before the scream of metal against metal and her world was devoured by the night.

A CIRCLE OF MURDERS, CHAPTER ONE

                                CHAPTER ONE

June 5, late evening

The bitch refused to die.  Again, she had returned to torment him.  Not this time.  He was ready for her.  Wherever she tried to hide, he always found her.  He alone was her judge and jury.  And he alone would convict her of the crimes she had committed because no one else had ever bothered.  Her sentence?  Death, of course, that was only fair punishment.  It was up to him to see that the sentence was carried out.  Slowly, though.

In a surge of temper, he tightened his grip on the girl’s throat and slammed the back of her head against the wall.  Her eyes rolled back in her head and her body went limp.  He released her and watched her chest rise as she inhaled air.  Still alive?  Good.  He had come too close to ending it.  Not yet.  Not yet.  She had to suffer as he had suffered.

He stripped off the dirty, skimpy white shorts and cut the bikini underwear with the razor-sharp blade of his knife.  Slowly, using the point, he flicked the buttons, one at a time, from the pink cotton shirt.  As the material gaped open, a white bra was revealed.  He slipped the blade under the band between her breasts, sliced through the fabric and pushed the garment aside.  He finished stripping the girl, posed her body, with her knees bent and her legs spread wide in an invitation, then made each of her hands cup her breasts.  He bent over her still form studying his work.  At last she was laid out and exposed for what she was: a whore, a slut to tempt and torture him as she had been doing his entire life.  No more.  He couldn’t take any more.

Even now, inches from death, she still controlled him.  He could feel it.  He could feel himself grow hard as he stared at her smooth young form, the flawless olive skin; each perfect breast peaked with a dark aureole around the nipple.  No.  With one gloved hand, he twisted and tore at them, making her moan.  Then he fanned her thick dark hair out on the pillow.  He wanted her.  He needed her.

All his life, she had tortured him, teasing, hurting and rejecting him until he was forced to act.  Forced to show her how he could take her without her touching him at all.  It was part of her punishment, that and watching her die for what she had done.  And then the pain would go away, and he would have peace.  They would be safe.

Naked, he positioned himself between her legs, his erection hard, enormous and aching as he sheathed his penis with a condom.  He grabbed and raised her hips as he thrust into her.  Her eyes flew open, her legs kicked out.  She cried out, a screeching wail, and beat at his arms and chest.  He slammed a fist against her mouth.  Still she fought and so he drove even harder into her.  He held her down with one hand on her chest, pressing her deeper into the mattress, and used the other to smash her face again, then again, until she went lax.  His excitement grew until he was slamming into her without mercy.  He cried out a name as he climaxed and his semen filled the condom.  His head dropped as the pain faded and breathing hard, he leaned over his prey, his fury and passion spent.  He looked down at the face of the human wreck beneath him.

He did not remember moving his hands to her neck, yet it was clear that he had because his fingers now were clenched around her throat.  Her large brown eyes were wide and vacant and her torn, bloody mouth hung open and slack.  He let go of her throat and stared down at her for a moment, then calmly rose, going downstairs to the bathroom to shower and scour his body with disinfectant.  After dressing in new black slacks and a black shirt, he slipped on his loafers.  Donning thick rubber gloves and a rubber apron he returned upstairs where he opened a small bottle of bleach and poured a generous amount over her belly and thighs, carefully making sure he doused her pubic area.  No evidence would be left behind.  He was always careful about that.  He wrapped her body in a cheap throw rug, not wanting any part of her to touch him.  Now that she was gone, it was simply a matter of taking out the garbage.

THE WONDERS OF ANTIBIOTICS, COLORADO SNOW, BACK TO WORK,

I’M GOING TO LIVE!  I was beginning to wonder for a time, but my doctor prescribed me a Z-pack and it has already started working.  I’m feeling much better today, and I’m not coughing nearly as much.  I actually slept quite well last night.  Taking a Coricidin at bedtime helps with the coughing.

My only problem is that I don’t seem to want to eat.  I’ve never been a big eater, you’d never know it to look at me.  I’m not obese, but it won’t hurt me to lose some weight.  In fact my doctor told me to get off my butt and start walking on my treadmill. As soon as I’m well, that is.  I promised to do it and I won’t break that promises.

I have this thing about people who tell you they will do something, then don’t.  It drives me a tad crazy, and you all know I admit to being a bit nuts.  I can’t claim to have kept every single promise I have ever made, but I have tried.  Sometimes circumstances keep a person from keeping a promise.  That I can understand.  So, if I can’t do something, I will not make a promise to do it.  My best response is that I will try my best.  Okay, enough said.

I’m sure most of you have guessed that I love Colorado.  Today’s snow is an example why.  It was snowing when I got up and the ground was almost covered.  At that time, there was about an inch of snow on the top of my car.  It continued to snow and by the time the mailman drove past, there was about five inches.  I know because I had to shovel a path to the mailbox.   The snow was above my ankles and it was beautiful.   I enjoy it immensely.  It is supposed to drop to one degree tonight and warm up the rest of the week with more sunshine.  The snow will be gone probably by Tuesday when the temperature is going to be near or above forty-seven.  It can be crappy outside, but if you give if five or ten minutes, the sun will come out. It tried to come out today, but it was too cloudy and still snowing.

Well, it is back to murder and mayhem for me.  I need to get back on my writing schedule so I can have the first draft of THE STONE KILLER  finished, hopefully, by the end of the month.  I don’t think it will happen.  To finish in 27 days, I will have to write 1667 words a day every day.  You know that old saying, “the best laid plans of mice and men”, well something will get in the way of my writing.  I will do my very best, but no promises.

Well it is 6:17 here in Colorado and I need to review the chapter I was working on before this cold, so I will say goodnight for now.

Everyone, take care of yourselves and stay safe until we talk again.

 

 

WINTER COLD, CHICKEN SOUP, MY CATS, CATCHING UP ON MURDER AND MAYHEM, NEW BOOKS

Chicken soup is a common classic comfort food that might be found across cultures. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Well, yesterday I chased my nose with a tissue all day and evening until my poor nose was raw,  Why and how  I managed to catch a cold, I don’t know.  I haven’t been out of the house except to go to the grocery store on the 23rd.  I spent most of yesterday in my recliner with a box of Kleenex.  Even after taking an antihistamine, my nose continued to run somewhat.  I did all they say to do, ate chicken soup, slept a lot and even went to bed early and slept like the proverbial log.  I got up this a.m., fed the cats and then myself.  After a nice hot shower, I felt better, but needless to say, I haven’t written hardly anything since Christmas.

Well Christmas was nice.  I chose to stay home with my cats.  I had invitations for dinner, but for some reason, as this is my first Christmas back in Colorado, I wanted to be in my house.  I bought the cats twelve mice, four long mice with long feather tails and eight small mice without feathers, plus four fuzzy balls with feathers.  Would you believe the only mice left in the living room floor are three long mice, one small mouse and two fuzzy balls with the feathers severely damaged.  Bandit!  She carries the toys off and hides them or knocks them under the entertainment center and expects me to get down on my hands and knees and retrieve them.  She is going to have to wait until I feel a lot better.

I hope everyone had a great Christmas, and that we’re all ready for 2014.  I pray it will be a great year for us all.  My goals are extensive, finish two to three novels.  I hope to be able to do it as I have two other stories that are about half way finished.  One is a romance and the other is another paranormal romantic suspense filled with romance, murder and mayhem.    I love those words, romance, murder and mayhem.  They sound so intriguing and enticing.  Tags are so important.   I have found that out.

My detective, John T Huntington, will be in a series of books waiting to be written from the vaults in my mind.  They are cooking and when they are ready, I will place my fingers on the keyboard and let them tell their storied.  I don’t know the how or why it is working that way for me lately, but I thank God that it is.  I will continue to write as long as my finger work and the characters keep talking to me.

Well, this is a short post as my recliner is calling me, and I feel the need to rest some more.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL.

Take care of yourselves and stay safe.

Until we talk again.

THE BEST LAID PLANS

All Night Long (Photo credit: bitzcelt)

As writers, we have all heard the saying “The best laid plans of mice and men,” etc.  Monday I had plans to do my errands, come home and work on the STONE KILLER.  Instead, I spent the day flat on my back in the Emergency Trauma room at my local hospital.  I was T-boned by another driver and now I am waiting to hear if my vehicle is a total loss.  I have numerous injuries, but the concussion has left me a loopy.  I was loopy before, but now I’m a bit more so.   So until my mind resumes its clearer function and I can see better, not to mention my injuries healing somewhat, my novel will have to continue to cook in my mind.  It is getting close to crispy as it is.  So I will have to switch to the next one waiting in line after the STONE KILLER entitled ON GABRIAL’S WATCH which is not finished stewing in my brain as yet.  I have the beginning, the middle and the end.  But nothing is set in stone when it comes to writing a novel as most writers know.

Since I seem to be sleeping a lot, I will be off to bed and chat with you all later.  I am a survivor and  I am sure I will survive this setback.  Each day will be a better day.

Have a great evening.