For those who could not find the Vella series I started before Amazon closed its program, I thought I should post the first few rough draft pages for you to consume!

I am hoping to have this published by the end of summer.

Eclipse will have ties to both Elude and Evade series and will be strictly a non-supernatural true crime thriller!

A sadistic new serial killer has the city of Chicago in his grip. A bold, rookie detective haunts his every step. Which will slip up first?

Chapter 1

Mitchell stared at the paper, focused, and felt himself sinking into the growing spot of red ink his grading pen had left. His mind slipped deeper, spiraled then dove into the heart of it. His eyes blurred, his head grew heavy, and his thoughts revolved around the blood…

No, not blood… ink! Red pen ink, his inner voice scolded him.

No, it is blood! Or it could be, another voice insisted. The words were low and whispery. Hot, thick, gooey, smooth. You could make this happen. You know where you could get all this blood.

Mitchell imagined the liquid flowing through his hands. A pool of it, sloshing and washing up over his torso, flowing over his chest and up to his neck. In his thoughts and in reality, he stuck out his tongue trying to get a taste of the hot liquid. With—

“Whoa! Are you… Mr. Michaels, are you alright?” a student asked, standing at the corner of his desk.

Mitchell shook his head, slamming back into the real world. His fourth-period English class at Bogan High School materialized in front of him. “I’m sorry. What?”

The student stared at him. It was seventeen-year-old, Corey James.

Punk! Always a smartass, Mitchell’s inner voice snarled.

Mitchell murmured instead, “Mr. James, did you need anything?”

Corey sneered, “Do I need something? Man, you looked like you were about to make out with that homework paper.”

“That is enough. If you are finished with your work, please place it on the pile and return to your seat. Thank you.” Mitchell grinned pleasantly at him. Mitchell’s mask as the always-earnest and generous Mitchell Michaels slipped back into place. Corey scoffed, tossed the paper down, and shuffled over to his cluttered desk in the back of the room.

No one else had paid any attention to their interaction. The time remaining for their pop quiz was nearly over. 

Known among the school staff and his friends as “Gentle Giant Mike”, Mitchell stood 6’4”, weighed 260 lbs., had a thick head of dirty blond hair, and a beard kept short and trim. He towered over his students and most of the faculty, but his giving nature always won them over. Mentoring and volunteering his time had made him a standout among his peers. Most of his students thought the world of him.

Mitchell returned to his work on the assignment he had been grading. His eyes glanced a brief moment at the splotch of red his pen had caused. The ink had gotten on his finger and thumb as well. He picked up the broken pen and dropped it in the basket at his desk. He shot a glance at the digital clock hung on the wall behind the class. 12:14 PM. School was almost over for the day.

That was good. The mild hangover from some after-school drinks the night before had eroded his energy and his patience for the day. Brad Keller always convinced him and several of the other teachers that it would be a quick drink. The twenty-nine-year-old bachelor always had a charm and a looming presence about him that made it hard to say no to.

“Oh, come on, fellas. Live a little,” he would taunt them. Just like that and with a snap of his fingers, he snared them all. They would hit O’Mallory’s Tavern on the way home. Drinks that would lead to an inevitable fast round of poker.

“Not tonight, my friend,” he whispered to himself.

Mitchell liked and hated Brad Keller if that was even possible. The smooth salesman in the History Teacher was relentless. Mitchell envied the skill as he speculated that Keller also had a wild sex life.

Wind kicked up outside and a splatter of wet ice and snow flurries hit the windows along the south wall. An afternoon snowstorm had swept in off Lake Michigan. Premature for this time of year, but most people in Chicago learned to be ready for anything. Notorious for being fickle in the Midwest, the weather could not be predicted especially near the Great Lakes.

He would have to take everything home versus staying the extra hours at the school to grade yesterday’s homework and the pop quiz. Gina, his fiancée, expected him over tonight for dinner as well.

Mitchell wheeled his chair back from his desk and crossed to one of the windows. Snow had already fallen and gathered on the football field and near the parking lot. The skies were cobalt and overcast. A chill draft leaked in. He rolled his shoulders, stepped back from the frosty glass, and went to a beige wall phone. Mitchell dialed an extension.

“Mr. Michaels, here. Yes, Stan, I think you should consider an early release. The weather outside looks nasty. I imagine in a half hour the roads are going to be treacherous—”

His last words were drowned out by the uproar from the excited students. Mitchell waved at them and tried to minimize the noise in the room.

“Alright. Very good. Yes, you have a wonderful night too.” He ended the call.

A moment later a sharp bing sound came over the intercom. “Students. We will be closing early today due to the inclement weather. Please begin to make your way to the buses. Thank you.”

“Hell yeah! Thanks, Mr. Michaels!” one student, a small lanky kid exclaimed.

One of the school cheerleaders, Danni Codren who sat near the middle of the room spoke up. “May I use my cell phone to get my dad to come get me early?”

Others quickly repeated her question asking to also use their phones. Mitchell nodded. This was against school policy to use phones during school hours, but he saw no harm in allowing it now. School had been dismissed.

A PA system bell rang out and made it official.

The students filed out, laughing and overall giddy. They were high school students, but inside they were all still kids.

As the last of the line proceeded out, Corey came up to his desk with another paper in hand. “Hey Mr. M! Here you go in case you get lonely tonight. Enjoy!”

He flipped the paper onto his desk, cackling with laughter as he slipped through the door. The paper had on it a crudely drawn naked woman, her legs splayed open obscenely. The words LICK HERE with a black arrow pointing the way was written above her. Mitchell swept it up in his hands and crumbled it, his temper beginning to growl.

The storm outside also grew in strength and fury as if feeding off Mitchell’s mood. Now, blinding flurries of fresh snow pelted the windows incessantly. Mitchell took a long sip of his coffee, settled back in his chair, and worked to calm his nerves. Corey was a typical jock with the usual obnoxious behavior. Yet something about the mouthy teen got under his skin. He was expected to do well in a college football program somewhere as a running back. For that reason, he barely made any effort with his assignments and tests.

The plain digital clock on his wall displayed 12:45. He had to heed his own advice and started to gather his papers and texts into his work duffel bag. A few minutes later, he jogged with his hands up over his head to shield himself from the snow as he opened his gold Toyota Camry. He flung his bag in the backseat and waited behind the steering wheel.

A few minutes later, he cruised down the I-83, keeping it slow and steady on the slick roadway. He dug out his cell phone. He knew it would be better to call now versus when he reached the woody outskirts of Chicago. Cell towers were not as prevalent, his reception grew spotty. Despite the long everyday drive to and from Bogan, he loved the time of isolation and freedom it gave him. He would often listen to classical music or even lose himself in an audiobook.

Sometimes when the mood took him, he would allow himself a fantasy. A homicide fantasy would bloom in his mind, like a black and thorny rose. He would spin the encounter in his mind in every gruesome detail and direction he could. Mitchell liked to work out the opportunities, challenges, and the obstacles. He conjured every conceivable angle to how he would fulfill his darkest craving to kill a person in the scenario. He buried the needy feelings deep, as deep as his victims in his scenarios.

He called his fiancée. The phone rang twice and as expected, she picked up precisely on the third ring. Gina was a stickler for routine. Currently, she was a stay-at-home marketing exec for a large law firm downtown. Her hours were long, but at least she didn’t have the hassles of commuting.

“Hey, honey,” she greeted him. “How is your day going? Are you still in class?”

“No, Stan called school off early.”

“Wow, really? Why?”

Mitchell shook his head. She had a kind heart, but she would never be regarded as an intellectual. “You haven’t noticed the weather?”

The squeaking wheels of her computer chair could be heard as she scooted away from her desk. “Oh… yeah, okay,” she murmured, obviously looking out the window of her small, third-floor apartment.

“The weather station on the radio reported we will see a record four inches of snow coming in tonight. You okay if I stay tonight after dinner?”

She giggled, “Only you would use the weather as a way to parley a reason to spend the night in my bed!”

He cruised past a beat-up sign that announced it was 33 miles to Romeoville. He’d grab his overnight bag first from his condo and then head to Gina’s place in Lockport. He guided the Camry to the connecting ramp to merge onto I-171. Immediately, Mitchell found the road caked with at least a half inch of snow and not packed down much from other vehicles. He felt the back wheels fishtail a bit. He eased back on the gas and let it coast down to 30 mph.

“I don’t accept that as a rejection of my inquiry, Miss Dawson. I think you are the one who wants…” his words faded as the road took his focus.

Ahead the tarmac angled up as it crested a small hill. He gave it some speed to help clear the top. However, on the other side of the hill, the road appeared to be clear. It was spared the weather since it wasn’t facing the coming wind and storm. He kept the speed going at 45 mph when a patch of orange color darted across at the bottom. A large golden retriever had skidded to a stop and stood in the center of the road. It had dropped something from its mouth and was investigating with its snout.

“Stupid—” Mitchell shouted in surprise. His wheels found no purchase. A hidden, thin sheen of ice covered the freeway. He slid into the other lane and then back to the original. The car’s momentum carried him around and twisted it violently backward. He panicked trying to regain control, yanking the steering wheel on reflex in the spinout’s direction did not help.

Soon gravel ground underneath his tires and the car jerked downward as he launched from the shoulder. The Camry bounced and careened. Screams and pleas for Mitchell to answer Gina came from his phone that had been projected and lay neglected in the back seat.

Mitchell’s hands were torn free from the steering wheel as he rocketed over the center counsel. He crashed hard into the passenger window. His ear lobe burst open, and blood sprayed the interior with tiny droplets. He screamed in terror as he saw the massive tree trunk looming ahead, getting closer, closer!

Before his world shut off like a television set unplugged, Mitchell was launched forward and cracked the windshield with his head. He bounced back and crumpled into the wheel well. The front right fender took the majority of the incredible impact, but the rest of the car wrapped itself around the base of the tree.

There were several lacerations along his cheek, temple, and the top of his skull.

Blood oozed out… Hot, thick, gooey, smooth…  A small pool gathered along his neck and shoulders.