Sunday, January 26, 2014

Sample Sunday: Excerpt from "They Die in Eight Minutes" by Peter DiChellis

Awhile back I read The Shamus Sampler and enjoyed it quite a lot as you can see from the review here. After my review went up in various places, Peter wrote me and thanked me for the review. I made an offer –as I have done with other authors I have read and liked---for him to come be a part of things here with a Sunday Sample. Peter expressed interest and then later followed through (a rarity in of itself) with the below piece. Bit different than what we normally do here…..

They Die in Eight Minutes
by Peter DiChellis

Tick, tick . . . 11:52pm. They die in eight minutes.
Shadows crept across the outside walls of the house. Moonlight. Hand signals. Whispers.
Cops. Three slipped to the front door. Two sneaked to the back.
“Ready.”
Ready just in time, Sheriff’s Detective Benton Hammel thought. They die at midnight the man had promised. Not a second sooner, not a minute later. The man’s ex-wife, stepson, daughter-in-law, all of them. Dead at midnight.
Narcissistic psychopath, Hammel figured. Precise, cold, game player.
“Careful,” he’d whispered to his team moments ago. “The guy won’t kill his family until midnight, but he’ll kill us anytime.”
Tick, tick . . . 11:53.
Hammel had already briefed the team on the suspect, situation, and the isolated location. He had pushed them hard and they’d raced here, to this secluded housing development at the far edge of the county, after an anonymous caller alerted cops to the address. Hammel knew the area, had been house hunting nearby last month. Without that lucky break, and Hammel’s swift reaction, nobody could have arrived in time to save the family.
“Bust it open,” Hammel ordered.
The front door cracked off its hinges. Then the back door.
The cops’ flashlights dotted the pitch-black rooms as they hustled through, searching.
“Clear! Clear!”
“All clear!”
“Check for a basement,” Hammel instructed.
“No basement.”
“Attic.”
“No attic.”
“Backyard, garage, outbuilding, anything!”
“Nothing. Nothing. Nobody here.”
Wrong. They are here, Hammel calculated. All of them. Hidden somewhere in this dark unsold house in an abandoned tract of unfinished new homes. At 427 Maple. A perfect spot for a midnight killing.
Tick, tick . . . 11:57.

End of sample. Click here to read the rest of the story free at Shotgun Honey.


Peter DiChellis ©2014
Peter DiChellis writes short mystery-suspense fiction. His sinister tales appear in a handful of publications, most recently at Shotgun Honey, Over My Dead Body!, and in The Shamus Sampler private eye anthology. (Coming soon: A story in Plan B Mystery Magazine’s Volume III Anthology.) For links to his published stories, visit his Wordpress site Murder and Fries at http://murderandfries.wordpress.com/

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