FEATURED TITLE
Title: Sydney Sider
Author: Susan Downham
ISBN: 978-1-62420-146-2
Genre: Crime
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4
Senior
Detective Tim O’Neil and his partner are soon embroiled in a serial killer
case. The killer has a twisted and tormented mind, and seems to enjoy the
torturous hell he puts his victims through. He is the complete embodiment of
evil. As the bodies begin to stack up, The Sydney Morning Herald reports on the
serial killer case, naming the killer, the Slaughter Man. The newspaper‘s
powerful owners show how they manipulate the news to suit their own needs and
fellow reporters show their own desires for career advancement. When the identity
of the killer is discovered and the police descend on the killer’s home, O’Neil
wants to take him alive. He feels apathy for the killer, knowing the hell his
mother had put him through has shaped him into the skilled killer he has
become.
EXCERPT
The phone beeped as they entered the bedroom and Peter checked it. Elise
sent a short message of ‘Love you too, leaving now.’ "She is just leaving
work now, Anna, so she should be home by twelve fifteen." Peter undressed
and climbed into bed.
"Good, honey, that gives you half an hour to make love to me."
"I'm on a timer am I?" He laughed.
Anna climbed on top. "Yes, husband, you are on a timer." They
both laughed.
After a few frantic minutes, Peter stopped moving.
"Hey you, what's wrong?"
"Shush."
"What?"
"Shush." He put his finger to his lips. "I thought I heard
Elise's footsteps but she couldn't have gotten home so quickly." They both
turned to the clock. It was only midnight.
"Are you sure you heard something?"
Peter put his hand under the bed and felt for his trusty old baseball bat.
He nodded. "Yes I heard something." He too sat on the bed then they
both heard a floor board creek out near the kitchen. Anna grabbed her husband's
arm and held it tight.
"Oh god, honey, I heard that." Peter was straight out of bed.
"You ring the police, Anna," he told her.
"Where are you going?"
Peter picked up his trusty old baseball bat, and turned to Anna, his face
creased and his heart thumping hard inside his chest. "I'll go and have a
look." He disappeared out the doorway, tip-toeing out of the room with the
baseball bat in hand.
Peter stood by his bedroom door listening to Anna on the phone and to the
sounds of the house. He shook his head as he tried to clear a buzzing noise
that was sending alarm bells through his body. He concentrated. There was
nothing. He heard Anna whispering, barely audible, but nothing else. He held on
to the bat, resting it on his foot. Butt naked and feeling cold, he was about
to turn back into his bedroom and get dressed before investigating further when
he heard the blood chilling sound of a loose floor board near the end of the
kitchen counter groan.
He knew the exact floor board. He'd promised Anna several times to get it
fixed, but it never bothered him like it did her. Now when the house was so
quiet, it took on such an eerie sound.
Peter pulled the bat up to shoulder height, ready to take a swing. He took
three small steps down the hallway, the carpet soft underfoot. He listened
again. There was no sound but he knew someone was there. They weren't alone in
the house. He took a backward glance at his bedroom, where his Anna was still
on the phone and wondered what could be taking so long.
Then he took another two steps forward, his hands getting sweaty and his
heart racing. His mind went to other crimes in the area. He knew of a man out
west who woke up to find two men empting his house of every major electrical
item and loading them onto a small truck. The burglars didn't know the house
was occupied, and they panicked, killing the man by hitting him over the head
with a microwave. He wished whoever it was would just run out the front door,
with Peter chasing him out into the street then returning indoors to wait for
the police.
He preferred that idea, confronting anyone even with his baseball bat in
hand. He took another step forward and that was
when he saw him. Peter swung his bat, but it connected with the wall and not
with the man whose eyes drilled into him.
A fist came towards him. He ducked but not quick enough. He felt his head
whip to the left, then another punch came, right into his kidney. He cried out,
trying to pull himself up, leaning on the bat. He stood and faced the man,
trying to make sense of what was going on, but he couldn't. The man watched him
get to his feet. Peter was wondering what he was waiting for. Every breathe he
took racked his body with a wave of nausea. He swung his bat straight at the
man's face, and watched as the bat hit the wall. The knife came from under him,
slicing into his ribs. Peter screamed out, as the knife was yanked out of his
piggy white flesh and he grabbed at the wall to steady himself and then the
knife came in again, this time through his stomach. He grabbed on to the blade,
tried to pull it out, to stop the pain, but the man leaned into him and held
him as he dropped to the floor. He pulled the knife out again, tearing the
flesh apart.
Then he turned his head towards his bedroom door, his hand on the hole
ripped into his guts. He screamed at Anna to run, but nothing came out. He saw
her running towards him, his white T-shirt too big on her tiny naked body. She
met his eyes. He screamed again. Blood spurted out towards Anna, like a huge
spew. He put his hand to his mouth, to wipe it away. Dizzy and confused, he
watched Anna fall on him and then scream and the knife gouged her back, slicing
into her spinal cord, then twisting and being dragged back out. Peter felt
Anna's warm blood seep over him, and he knew it was too late. He noticed the
hallway slipping away. He closed his eyes, willing it to be over. His short
breathes were agonizing, tearing at him. Then he felt hands on the cheeks of
his arse. It brought him back for a moment. Shook him back to where he was and
what was going on. He tried to get onto all fours, he had to fight. He pushed himself
up, onto his knees, the weight of Anna slipping but still weighing him down. A
voice called out to him.
"What's wrong, Peter, come on get up, before I really fuck you,"
the voice teased him but spurred him on. Peter was on all fours, the man he
knew was behind him. He wanted to say something, to scream or yell, or make
some noise, but his mouth was full of blood.
Then he felt his cheeks pulled open. He felt the rubbery grip on his arse
and clenched and a pain he knew he would never be able to explain. He felt the
knife rip him wide open, he felt the warm stickiness down his thighs, and he
felt the knife twist inside him. He closed his eyes, concentrating on something
good, something joyful. He saw the sun shining, the beach, the boys running
into the water, Elise in her mother's arms, just a tiny baby, and him watching
them all and knowing it was the happiest day of his life. He was holding on but
only just, his breaths so shallow and the world around him fading so quickly.
He blinked his eyes trying to hold on, seeing his baby girl in her mother's
arms, hearing the boys laugh, but as he took his last breath he heard her voice
call out, "Hi Mum and Dad, I am home safe and sound."
No comments:
Post a Comment