A look inside my upcoming Sci Fi Thriller.
Judge took one last drag off of his hydro, and then flicked the Chesterfield onto the damp bricks.
She tried to lose him on the other side of the fountain, but the murderer was smarter than that. Sorry, Doll Face. He smelled blood. Nothing was going to stop this madman — or so he thought.
The assassin jogged after the mysterious figure in the fog over the paved bay trail, and into the Fisherman’s Wharf. The crosshatched strings of white bulbs still burned overhead in the fog. All of the shops and restaurants had been long since closed up. Judge peered around frantically.
“Now, where did that numbskull get off to?”
Just then a dark formed passed under the halo of a lamppost at the end of the main wharf.
Not tonight, clown. I jogged down to the corner of Isabella’s restaurant, and set my case down in front of…
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