In this brand new short story from the author of Hope's Peak, the town of New Munich plays host to a man on the run; a hunter tasked with tracking him down; and a chancer who happens to be in the wrong place at the right time . . .
Headlights sweep across the room, cutting through the gaps in the curtains and penetrating the little square of wire glass at the top of the door.
He can hear an engine, big and loud. The steady growl of a Cadillac, smooth and powerful, contained beneath a hood the color of ivy. Sure enough, when he goes to the window and peeks out, the green Cadillac is there, lights at full beam and the engine still running as the driver gets out.
He shrinks back from the window.
Knowing the man who drives that Cadillac will be looking at his Ford. Jerry pulls the gun from the side pocket of the holdall and tucks it into the waistband at the back of his jeans. Boots clip-clop on the concrete outside his room, and a shadow crosses the window.
A heavy hand hammers on the door.
Jerry doesn’t move at first. The sound of the man’s fist beating on the door penetrates his soul. It makes him freeze, makes him seize up.
“I know you’re in there, Jerry,” the man says, his voice thick with that southern twang. “Why don’t you just save us both a lot of trouble and open the door?”
Genre: Mystery
Headlights sweep across the room, cutting through the gaps in the curtains and penetrating the little square of wire glass at the top of the door.
He can hear an engine, big and loud. The steady growl of a Cadillac, smooth and powerful, contained beneath a hood the color of ivy. Sure enough, when he goes to the window and peeks out, the green Cadillac is there, lights at full beam and the engine still running as the driver gets out.
He shrinks back from the window.
Knowing the man who drives that Cadillac will be looking at his Ford. Jerry pulls the gun from the side pocket of the holdall and tucks it into the waistband at the back of his jeans. Boots clip-clop on the concrete outside his room, and a shadow crosses the window.
A heavy hand hammers on the door.
Jerry doesn’t move at first. The sound of the man’s fist beating on the door penetrates his soul. It makes him freeze, makes him seize up.
“I know you’re in there, Jerry,” the man says, his voice thick with that southern twang. “Why don’t you just save us both a lot of trouble and open the door?”
Genre: Mystery
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Used availability for Tony Healey's Luck, New Munich