GRILLING DAHMER: The Interrogation of “The Milwaukee Cannibal” by Patrick Kennedy & Robyn Maharaj is an intense true crime book featuring the manuscript written by one of the detectives who “befriended” Dahmer, Patrick Kennedy to not only obtain his confession, but to identify his victims from his years as a serial killer. Ms. Maharaj was working with Mr. Kennedy, before his unexpected death, to bring this manuscript to the public.
In July of 1991, Homicide Detective Patrick “Pat” Kennedy responded to a possible homicide. It was the apartment of Jeffrey Dahmer. Pat was able to build a rapport with Dahmer that lasted through his confession, identification of his victims over several weeks and the length of his trial.
The majority of this book is Mr. Kennedy’s manuscript and then Ms. Maharaj wraps up any loose ends in the final chapters. This is a fascinating look at a man who was able to treat Jeffrey Dahmer as a human being and at times sympathize with him even as he discovered all his horrific secrets. The events depicted are graphic and difficult to read at times, but at the same time I could not stop. My personal problems with the book were that portions of the interrogation were repeated several times and became redundant and some of Mr. Kennedy’s personal life during this time is included and seems more filler than in depth look at what he must have been personally experiencing at the time. Otherwise, this story is an amazing look at this serial killer’s mind told from a unique firsthand perspective.
I highly recommend this true crime story of Jeffrey Dahmer!
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About Patrick Kennedy
Former Milwaukee Police Department Homicide Detective Patrick Kennedy, PhD spent several months engulfed in a serial killer case that made headlines around the world in July 1991. Because of an instant rapport he established with Jeffrey Dahmer, he was able to draw a confession from a man who had murdered 17 young men. After spending several more years as a detective, he returned to college and went on to teach criminal justice at two Wisconsin universities. He was featured in the documentary film, The Jeffrey Dahmer Files in 2012. An active PAL (Police Activity League – basketball) participant, Patrick Kennedy passed away in April 2013.
About Robyn Maharaj
Robyn Maharaj is a freelance journalist, grant-writer, and former arts director based in Canada. She co-founded, Thin Air: the Winnipeg International Writers Festival in 1996. Since 1991, she’s published feature articles, profiles, poetry, and book and film reviews in numerous Canadian newspapers, magazines, and literary journals. Two poems were published in the anthology, Spider Women: A Tapestry of Creativity and Healing and one of her literary essays was published in the anthology, The Winnipeg Connection: Writing Lives at Mid-Century. In 2014, crimemagazine.com published her feature article, “Exorcising Dahmer’s Ghost.”
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for TRIAL BY FIRE: A Devastating Tragedy, 100 Lives Lost and A 15-Year Search for Truth by Scott James.
This is a nonfiction book about a horrific fire by an author who did exhaustive research for the truth which reads as smoothly as a work of fiction. I could not put it down!
Below you will find a book description, my book review and the author’s bio and social media links.
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Book Description
In only 90 seconds, a fire in the Station nightclub killed 100 people and injured hundreds more. It would take nearly 20 years to find out why—and who was really at fault.
All it took for a hundred people to die during a show by the hair metal band Great White was a sudden burst from two giant sparklers that ignited the acoustical foam lining the Station nightclub. But who was at fault? And who would pay? This being Rhode Island, the two questions wouldn’t necessarily have the same answer.
Within 24 hours the governor of Rhode Island and the local police commissioner were calling for criminal charges, although the investigation had barely begun, no real evidence had been gathered, and many of the victims hadn’t been identified. Though many parties could be held responsible, fingers pointed quickly at the two brothers who owned the club. But were they really to blame? Bestselling author and three-time Emmy Award-winning reporter Scott James investigates all the central figures, including the band’s manager and lead singer, the fire inspector, the maker of the acoustical foam, as well as the brothers. Drawing on firsthand accounts, interviews with many involved, and court documents, James explores the rush to judgment about what happened that left the victims and their families, whose stories he also tells, desperate for justice.
Trial By Fire is the heart-wrenching story of the fire’s aftermath because while the fire, one of America’s deadliest, lasted fewer than two minutes, the search for the truth would take twenty years.
TRIAL BY FIRE: A Devastating Tragedy, 100 Lives Lost and a 15-Year Search for Truth by Scott James is a new nonfiction book about the horrific fire at The Station nightclub in 2003. The author uses exhaustive research and intersperses personal accounts into a work of nonfiction that reads as easily as a work of fiction. I could not put it down!
It was supposed to be a night of fun and partying watching the hair metal band Great White perform at The Station nightclub in Rhode Island. After local warm-up bands, the lights go out and suddenly the band’s road manager sets off four large pyrotechnics which catch the foam on the back wall on fire. The foam is on all of the walls and ceiling and is as effective as gasoline at spreading the fire and within seconds the inside is filled with a black fog of smoke and the entire building is engulfed in flames.
The author takes the reader through the entire tragedy and introduces the reader through family and friends accounts to some of the individuals who died that day, some of the survivor’s stories and the families of both. Then the story follows the investigations into who is responsible, while continuing to intersperse victim’s stories. The author points out the mistakes made and reported and the series of events and decisions that led to unintended consequences and the terrible number of deaths.
I was completely engrossed in this story. (I remember the terrible story when it was on the national news, but like all other news stories, unless you were personally affected it fades from your life.) Mr. James takes the reader to the very beginning and through his research and the passage of time which separates actual facts from the hype and rush to judgement immediately after an event like this, he writes a narrative that illuminates the cascade of errors made and continues to follow survivor’s stories. I believe the author does an excellent job of illuminating the truth about the good and bad of all the major players involved in this tragedy.
I highly recommend this book!
***
Author Bio
A New England native, Scott James first came to prominence for exposing government waste and malfeasance by creating the long-running investigative series “You Paid for It” at WLNE-TV in Rhode Island. His work in television news received three Emmy awards and numerous journalism honors, including the prestigious Associated Press News Station of the Year, twice. He’s a graduate of the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism.
Since 2009 Scott’s reporting has appeared in The New York Times. His eponymous weekly column about the San Francisco Bay Area ran from 2009 to 2012, and his stories received national and international coverage from other media, including The New Yorker, The Guardian, CNN, ABC News, CBS News, “The Colbert Report,” and “Chelsea Lately.”
In the world of fiction, writing under the pen name Kemble Scott, he’s the author of two San Francisco Chronicle bestselling novels, The Sower and SoMa, which was a finalist for the national Lambda Literary prize for debut fiction and the #1 bestseller in the Doubleday Book Club’s InSightOut division.
Scott lives in San Francisco. He’s a member of the board of directors of Litquake, the city’s literary festival, and co-founder of the Castro Writers’ Cooperative, a co-working community for writers.
Today is my turn on the Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour. I am excited to be sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for TORTURED WITH LOVE: The True Crime Romance of the Lonely Hearts Killers by J.T. Hunter.
Below you will find a book synopsis, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Synopsis
What is the price of passion? What is the power of love?
Meet Martha Beck, a young nurse dedicated to healing others, until her own hurting heart lured her down a darker path. Loneliness led her to Raymond Fernandez, but love led her all the way to the electric chair.
This is the tragic story of the Lonely Heart Killers.
Genre: True Crime Published by: JT Hunter Publication Date: May 15th 2020 Number of Pages: 210 ISBN: 9798646112720 Purchase Links:Amazon | Goodreads
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
TORTURED WITH LOVE: The True Crime Romance of the Lonely Hearst Killers by J.T. Hunter is a true crime story of a couple who ranked fourth on Time magazine’s list of Top 10 Crime Duos in U.S. history. Their crime spree occurred in the 1940’s and while it may seem somewhat tame compared to some of our current atrocities, it was the sensation of its time.
Martha Beck was a young nurse and mother in Pensacola, Florida. Divorced and lonely, her best friend encourages her to sign up with a lonely hearts correspondence club which was popular in the 1940’s and 50’s. Her letter is answered by a suave suitor named Ray from New York City.
Raymond “Ray” Fernandez came to America from Spain leaving his wife and four children behind. Having trouble keeping a job, he begins to scam wealthy women he corresponds with through the lonely hearts correspondence clubs. He meets Martha and while he walks away, Martha cannot let him go and will go to any lengths to keep his love.
Ray and Martha set out scamming and then ultimately moving on to murdering the women Ray makes fall in love with him to acquire all their assets. Dubbed by the press as the “Lonely Heart Killers” they are captured and continue to declare their love for each other all the way to the electric chair.
I had never heard of this couple in my true crime reading and was very interested in learning more. I am especially interested in these stories that have a couple committing murders to learn about the psychology of the couple. There are so many variables and I always wonder if they never met, if there would have been no crimes. The period of the 1940’s is brought to life and I found the author did a great job of displaying the differences in our mores and moral judgements then and now. This is the second book I have read by this author and I enjoy his clean and uncluttered style of writing while still providing a story that keeps you turning the pages.
I can highly recommend this true crime book and author!
***
Excerpt
ONE
On an otherwise mundane March day, a peculiar piece of paper arrived in Martha Beck’s office mailbox. It came with the usual medical correspondence and junk mail, giving no indication of its importance. Yet, this one particular envelope would change Martha’s life forever.
The envelope arrived on a cool afternoon, the temperature hovering just below 60, the highest it had climbed all day in the Pensacola area of the Florida Panhandle. But Martha was not in the mood to enjoy the weather. She was still down in the dumps about her recently finalized divorce from Alfred Beck, a Pensacola bus driver who had married her when she was six months pregnant with another man’s child. Although she had been separated from Alfred since May 1945, nearly two years earlier, the formal entry of their divorce had the nearly 27-year-old Martha feeling like an old maid doomed to live out the rest of her life alone.
Martha was not unique in that respect in post-World War II America. With well over a million more women than men, the United States population of the mid and late 1940’s left many lonely women in its wake.
A visit from Elizabeth Swanson, one of the nurses she supervised at the Crippled Children’s Home, temporarily distracted Martha from feeling sorry for herself. She considered Elizabeth her closest friend. When Elizabeth knocked on her office door, Martha had just started going through the mail. As the two engaged in the latest gossip and friendly chit-chat, Martha resumed sorting through the assortment of envelopes. The first was an advertisement from a Jacksonville company selling medical equipment. She quickly flipped past it as well as a few other pieces of junk mail until a mysterious envelope caught her eye. It was made of thin, pale-brown paper with the name, Mrs. Martha Jule Beck, typed prominently on the front.
“What’s this?” she asked, the question directed more to herself than her friend.
“What is what?” Elizabeth replied, sipping from a mug of coffee.
“This . . . this odd envelope,” Martha said, holding it up to show her.
“Beat’s me,” Elizabeth remarked coyly. “I wonder who sent you that.”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Martha remarked, her curiosity now piqued. She turned the envelope over to inspect it further, and seeing nothing hinting at its contents, opened it to find a thin, paper pamphlet inside. It was a promotional mailing and application for the Standard Correspondence Club, one of many “lonely hearts clubs” operating across the country. The return address gave Standard’s location as Grave Lake, Illinois.
LONELY?, the pamphlet asked in large, bold letters, Let us help you findthat certain someone. Join old reliable Club, 50 years of dependable, confidentialservice. Correspondents most everywhere seeking congenial mates, provenresults. Interesting photos, descriptions FREE. There were several pictures of women spaced throughout the page, each next to a testimonial about a happy marriage brought about by contacts made through the club.
“Now why on earth would they send this to me?” Martha wondered aloud, taking a little offense that such a “lovelorn club” would be contacting her.
Elizabeth’s coyness now morphed into a broad grin that spread across her face.
“Now why on earth would they send this to me?” Martha wondered aloud, “I have a confession to make,” Elizabeth said as she started giggling. “I wrote the club and asked them to send you information and an application.”
Martha studied her friend’s face, deciding whether she was serious.
“Whatever for?” she asked in a tone matching the astonishment in her eyes.
Still giggling, Elizabeth moved to a chair closer to Martha and sat down beside her.
“I originally did it as a joke,” she explained, “but the more I thought about it, the more I decided that you should give it a try. Three of my daughters are writing to me that they have met men through this correspondence club, and this is the very same club that I met my husband through thirty years ago. And after all, what do you have to lose?”
Martha rolled her eyes.
“I may be a little lonely,” she acknowledged, “but I’m not THAT desperate.”
She glared with some annoyance at Elizabeth. “I swear, sometimes I really wonder what’s going on in that head of yours.”
Martha tossed the pamphlet onto a pile of papers stacked on the side of her desk and made no more mention of it for the rest of their time together. But the seeds of intrigue had already been planted in her mind.
Later, after Elizabeth had left, Martha retrieved the discarded pamphlet and read it more closely. Part of the pamphlet contained a form asking her to fill out information about herself and write a letter detailing what kind of men she would like to meet. Sitting down at her desk, she carefully completed the form and took her time crafting the letter, being sure to mention how people often commented that she was witty, vivacious, and oozed personality. She also emphasized that she was a trained nurse with her own pleasant apartment. When she was satisfied with what she had written, Martha carefully folded the papers, enclosed $5.00 for the required membership fee, and licked the envelope to seal it. That evening, she dropped it in a mailbox on her way home from work.
*****
Years later, when asked whether she had experienced any misgivings about joining a lonely hearts club, Martha candidly replied, “Yes, as soon as I’d put the letter in the mailbox, I began thinking I’d made a mistake.”
Questioned about what kind of man she hoped to meet through the club, Martha took a little more time before answering.
“Well, I don’t know,” she confessed. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it much.
But I sure didn’t think I’d ever meet anyone like Ray.”
***Excerpt from Tortured With Love by J.T. Hunter. Copyright 2020 by J.T. Hunter. Reproduced with permission from J.T. Hunter. All rights reserved.
***
Author Bio
JT Hunter is a true crime writer with over fifteen years of experience as a lawyer, including criminal law and appeals. He also has significant training in criminal investigation techniques. He enjoys being a college professor teaching fiction and nonfiction to his creative writing students.
Today is my turn on the Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tour for The Vampire Next Door (The True Story of the Vampire Rapist) by J.T. Hunter.
Below you will find a book synopsis, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links and a Rafflecopter giveaway.
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Book Synopsis:
While he stalked the streets hunting his unsuspecting victims, the residents of a quiet Florida town slept soundly, oblivious to the dark creature in their midst, unaware of the vampire next door.
John Crutchley seemed to be living the American Dream. Good-looking and blessed with a genius level IQ, he had a prestigious, white-collar job at a prominent government defense contractor, where he held top secret security clearance and handled projects for NASA and the Pentagon. To all outward appearances, he was a hard-working, successful family man with a lavish new house, a devoted wife, and a healthy young son.
But he concealed a hidden side of his personality, a dark secret tied to a hunger for blood and the overriding need to kill. As one of the most prolific serial killers in American history, Crutchley committed at least twelve murders, and possibly nearly three dozen. His IQ eclipsed that of Ted Bundy, and his body count may have as well.
Genre: True Crime Published by: RJ Parker Publishing Publication Date: October 11th 2014 Number of Pages: 365 ISBN: 1500909491 (ISBN13: 9781500909499) Purchase Links:Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
The Vampire Next Door: True Story of the Vampire Rapist
and Serial Killer by J.T. Hunter is a true crime story of a serial killer
who was terrifying in his ability to hide his depravity.
John “JB” Crutchley is a good looking man with a genius IQ
and working as an engineer. To his neighbors in Florida, he was a hard-working,
quiet husband, father and neighbor. He was sometimes socially awkward and could
hold a grudge, but these were just looked at as quirks. At one time he even
held a top secret security clearance when he worked on projects for the
Pentagon and NASA.
There was a dark side to JB’s personality that he kept
behind closed doors. He enjoyed bondage, choking and hungered for blood. Women
went missing in areas that JB lived. He was accused of at least twelve murders,
but authorities believe there were many more.
I found this to be a well written true crime novel. Mr.
Hunter writes an account that pulls you right into John Crutchley’s life. His
research flows into a writing style that gives you all the information without
being stark and feeling as though you are just reading an information dump. Mr.
Hunter also does a wonderful job introducing the reader to Crutchley’s victims
and the one woman who got away. At times, this killer reminded me of Ted Bundy
and that made it even more chilling.
This book focuses as much on the victims and law enforcement
officers, as it does the killer and the narrative flows perfectly to tie the
whole story together throughout the book. The ending is not what I was
expecting or hoping for, but this is not fiction and you cannot change the facts.
I highly recommend this true crime book and author. I am
looking forward to checking out more of Mr. Hunter’s work.
***
Book Excerpt
Chapter 2
You were a vampire . . .
Nineteen-year-old Christina Almah was still a virgin, and a bit naïve when it came to matters of sex, but like most teenaged girls on the verge of womanhood, she enjoyed receiving attention from good-looking, romantically inclined men. Yet, even she was surprised when, after a handsome, slightly older man took an interest in her, she found herself traveling all the way across the country to see him again.
Christina first met twenty-two-year-old Carl Von Bane several months earlier while he was visiting a friend near her hometown of Westminster, California. She immediately noticed him when he walked into the Drug Emporium where she had been working for the past year as a clerk, and they had quickly hit it off. His rugged, bad-boy looks and confident disposition combined to render her fully smitten. But the budding romance had barely begun before “Von” returned home to Florida. Their brief time together had passed much too quickly for the love-struck Miss Almah.
Since Von’s departure, they had continued their blossoming relationship by telephone racking up steep long distance bills. All the while, Christina had meticulously saved her meager Drug Emporium pay so that she could afford to purchase a plane ticket to visit him. When Von had called her a few weeks ago, Christina hinted at wanting to see him again by casually mentioning that she had some vacation time that needed to be used. When he suggested that she catch a flight to Florida to visit him, she had immediately agreed. After all, this was not some fly by night infatuation. She thought that she might be in love.
Christina had been counting the days until this trip—a weeklong vacation certain to be a memorable one if for no other reason than the fact that it would be the first time she had ever traveled alone. She booked a direct flight on Eastern Airlines from Los Angeles to Orlando International Airport, and Von had picked her up there nearly a week ago. Since then, she had been staying with Von in his mother’s mobile home at Lot 12 of the Enchanted Lakes Mobile Home Park on Malabar Road, near the eastern edge of the City of Palm Bay in southern Brevard County.
Named for the lush palm trees that lined the bay at the mouth of Turkey Creek, the nearly 100-square-mile Palm Bay had experienced a period of rapid growth in recent years fueled by an influx of retirees, northern transplants, and space industry workers. As part of the “Space Coast,” Palm Bay benefited from its proximity to Cape Canaveral, home to the National Aeronautics and Space Administration’s space shuttle program. To the west of Palm Bay, just past Interstate 95, a vast expanse of swamps and marsh grass stretched beyond the horizon, home to an endless assortment of flora and fauna. Under the blinding gaze of the eternal Florida sun, cold-blooded creatures swam silent and unseen as they had for ages past, ancient predators stalking their unsuspecting prey.
Immediately to the east of Palm Bay sits the Town of Malabar, a small, quiet community only thirteen square miles in size. Its eastern edge meets the Intracoastal Waterway in a subtropical paradise of palm trees, sailboats, and spectacular sunsets. The area’s abundant seafood, perennial sunshine, and constant sea breeze reminded Christina of her favorite parts of California. That familiarity was reassuring. It felt comfortable. She felt safe.
A petite girl standing about five feet, four inches tall and weighing a little less than 110 pounds, Christina was not a beauty queen, but she was not unattractive either. Indeed, her green eyes and brown hair combined in an inviting way that most men found sensual and appealing, and she had enjoyed her fair share of suitors. Although she had shared a few intimate moments with boys in high school, she had never found one with whom she felt comfortable enough to sacrifice her virtue. Still sexually inexperienced, she had the classic Libra traits of compassion, innate gentleness, and a genuine caring for others, traits that were sometimes misconstrued by men. Still, it never dawned on her that Von’s testosterone-driven brain would expect something more than a kiss hello, or that he would interpret her willingness to fly across the country to visit him as a green light for sleeping together. Von had tried to take that next step during her first night in Florida, and when she told him that she was not ready, he had reluctantly played the part of the understanding boyfriend, but he could not wholly hide his irritation and mounting frustration.
Von worked at Gator Chrysler in nearby Melbourne, and he had to leave Christina alone for much of the day. That had been the routine for most of the week, and the excitement of staying with someone in another state had long-since faded away. On this particular morning, she passed some time by listening to a worn down cassette tape of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” album, popping it into the cherry red Sony Walkman that Von had given her. She played several songs, rewound the tape, and played them again, but after a while she tired of listening to the provocative singer purr about being “touched for the very first time.” She tried watching television after that, but quickly lost interest in the mindless game shows and melodramatic soap operas that dominated the channels. Growing bored, she decided to walk to Melbourne a few miles away to visit several friends that she had met through Von. She would be flying back to California the next morning and wanted to say her good-byes and make the most of her final day of vacation. Wearing blue jeans, sandals, and a black t-shirt with a Harley-Davidson insignia splashed across the front, she left the trailer shorty after 1:00 p.m. It was the twenty-first day of November, 1985.
As she walked out of the entrance of the mobile home park, a light rain began to fall. She could see dark clouds gathering in the distance and a westerly wind promised that they would soon be present. Somewhere beyond the visible horizon, thunder rumbled ominous and angry, its source hidden behind an approaching wall of grey and black clouds.
Christina turned left and started walking faster as the rain increased, heading east on Malabar Road toward U.S. 1 and the Intracoastal. She planned to stop at the Jiffy Mart at the corner of Malabar Road and U.S. 1 to buy a pack of cigarettes before walking north into Melbourne. She had not gone far when a small, light-colored car pulled up beside her.
Behind the wheel of the two-door automobile sat a clean-shaven man wearing a stylish, navy-blue sports coat, a black-and-white striped tie, and a nice pair of dress slacks, not the cheap K-Mart kind, but the higher quality cloth and cut of a more fashionable men’s store. The man looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He had loafer style shoes, but he was not wearing them while he drove. Christine thought it slightly odd that the well-dressed man’s bare foot operated the gas and brake pedals, but she gave it no more than a fleeting thought. She had certainly seen much stranger things during her time in Florida. The man’s eyes were concealed behind darkly tinted sunglasses and his face was framed by a mane of medium-length, dirty blonde hair. He had a thin build, and though slightly pale in complexion, his handsome facial features held an undeniable allure. She could not help feeling an attraction to him.
Flashing a broad, inviting smile, he leaned over, rolled down the passenger door window, and greeted her in a friendly, reassuring voice.
“It’s a bit wet today for a walk, isn’t it?” he asked with a wry, disarming smile. “Can I give you a lift?”
Although Christina was initially wary of his invitation, he looked harmless enough and it was the middle of the day in broad daylight in a public place, so she did not wait long before responding.
“Well,” she said, deliberately drawing out her reply as she decided how much to trust the seemingly friendly stranger. “I’m on my way to Melbourne to meet some friends. Are you going anywhere near there?”
“Sure, I have to go that way to get to my office. I just need to stop by my house real quick to pick up a notebook for work, but it’ll only take a minute or two. Go ahead and hop in.”
She hesitated for just a moment, studied her Good Samaritan one last time, and then grabbed the passenger side door handle of the car. As she opened the door, she heard Sting’s new song, “Russians,” playing on the car’s radio.
The country had long since fallen into the depths of the Cold War, and the perpetual threat of nuclear holocaust loomed in the back of most people’s minds like some amorphous boogieman lurking in the shadows. As Christine pulled the door closed, Sting’s voice flowed out of the car’s speakers, echoing what seemed to be the universal mood in America and Western Europe, the growing fear of a nuclear attack by the Russian-controlled Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. The song sought to appeal to the good in what President Reagan dubbed the “Evil Empire,” expressing a desperate hope that the Russian leaders loved their children enough to avoid the horror of a nuclear holocaust.
Suffering from the same state of uneasiness expressed in the song, Christina found herself captivated by the sense of calm that seemed to radiate from the man behind the wheel. They drove for a little while making small talk. While they chatted, she caught a glimpse of the man’s eyes behind his sunglasses. Their azure shade of blue added to the aura of assuredness he projected, and it seemed to Christina that the man’s eyes had the power to peer into her very soul, not in any unsettling way, but in an understanding, comforting manner that disarmed her naturally cautious disposition. He seemed genuinely interested in learning about her, and she was impressed with how articulately he expressed himself. He was charming, witty, and exuded self-confidence, and Christine felt relieved that he seemed to be normal. Some of Von’s friends that she had met were more than a little on the odd side.
After about five minutes, the man turned his car onto a bumpy, dirt road, and then continued on for a few minutes more before exiting onto a gravel driveway obscured by a tall row of hedges. Planted across the inner edge of the yard, the hedges had grown high enough to block a clear view of whatever was behind them. As the car continued down the driveway, a well-kept lawn, dotted sporadically with pine and oak trees, came into view. At the far end of the lawn stood a redbrick, Colonial style house with four white columns framing a large front door painted the same shade of white as the columns. The gravel driveway ended at a double-length carport on the left side of the house. The man pulled into the carport and parked. Two motorcycles stood at the opposite end of the parking area.
“I’ll be right back,” the man told her as he took the key out of the ignition and slipped on his shoes.
He stepped out of the car and walked to the side door of the house, where he paused and glanced back at her.
“Hey, you want to come inside for a drink?”
She smiled politely.
“Oh, no thanks, my friends are expecting me and I don’t want them to worry.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, before unlocking the door and disappearing into the building.
After a few minutes, the man emerged and announced with an embarrassed laugh that the notebook was not in the house after all.
“It must be in the back of the car,” he said, an amused smile spreading across his face as if he had just remembered an irresistibly funny joke.
He walked to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, flashing her the same smug alligator smile. He crawled into the back seat and began looking around, grinning all the while.
Suddenly, the back of Christina’s seat shot forward, slamming her violently against the dashboard. Stunned by the force of the impact and shocked by the unexpected attack, she was barely able to register the sound of something rustling behind her.
Then something brushed against her forehead. Before she could react, her neck jerked back painfully, and she began to choke. Frantically, she reached for her purse, attempting to grab something – anything – to try to defend herself. Her fingers brushed against the top of a can of OFF insect repellant. Desperate, she thought that if she could spray her attacker in his eyes, she might be able to blind him long enough to get away.
But as her fingers closed around the spray can, the man’s voice, angry and powerful, startled her into submission.
Stop it or I’ll kill you!”
As her initial impulse of self-defense gave way to a paralyzing feeling of despair, her hand retreated out of her purse and her arm fell numbly to her side.
Then the rope tightened and everything went black.
***
Author Bio:
J.T. Hunter is an attorney with over fourteen years of experience practicing law, including criminal law and appeals. He has significant training in criminal investigation techniques. He is also a college professor in Florida where his teaching interests focus on the intersection of criminal psychology, law and literature.
I’LL BE GONE IN THE DARK: One Woman’s Obsessive Search for the Golden State Killer by Michelle McNamara is a chilling account of the evolution of one of the most prolific serial rapists turned serial killer in California’s history.
This story is an enthralling web of evidence, interviews with law enforcement and empathy for victims and their families written by a talented journalist obsessed with justice. For over ten years from 1974 to 1986, a sadistic predator roamed the night committing approximately fifty sexual assaults in Northern California and ten murders in Southern California. All of these crimes were only tied together later by the advancement of DNA.
Three decades later, Ms. McNamara, who was a true crime journalist with her own cold case blog, began an intensive search for the faceless man she dubbed “The Golden State Killer”. Her passion for justice shows in all of her writing. Sadly, Ms. McNamara died before she was completely finished with this book, but her research assistant and a fellow true crime writer pulled the remainder of the information together to finish this work of her lifetime for publication.
This is an intriguing true crime book that was left as an open mystery the authors hope will lead to the discovery of the faceless Golden State Killer.
***
(Update: This book was published in February, 2018 and in April, 2018 authorities announced the arrest of 72 year old Golden State Killer suspect Joseph James DeAngelo on eight counts of first degree murder based on DNA evidence.)
This book was not what I was expecting; it was so much more! It is the personal story of an investigative true crime reporter, James Renner, and the cold case disappearance of a UMass student, Maura Murray, from a rural New Hampshire road. Both stories intertwine with each being intriguing, sometimes disturbing, and completely compelling as we follow the search for Maura and Mr. Renner’s descent into a dangerous true crime addition.
James Renner has had a lifelong obsession with true crime beginning with his following of the Amy Mihaljevic case when he was just eleven years old. He turned that obsession into a career as an investigative journalist and true crime writer. Mr. Renner is open about his problems with PTSD due to his delving into the dark side of crime and as he investigates the 2004 disappearance of Maura Murray it also effects his judgement, personal well-being and family. Maura’s story isn’t all it seems and the questions become an addiction to Mr. Renner, his online followers and me, as the reader.
This is a must read for the true crime lover. It is also a candid look into the mind of one of the addicted that try to solve these mysteries. Maura’s story is still unsolved and gives all who read this story a chance to come to their own conclusions based on the information given.
Thanks very much to St. Martin’s Press and Net Galley for allowing me to read this ebook in exchange for an honest review. It was my pleasure.
