Stalkers by Ed Gorman & martin H. Greenberg (eds.)

Author:Ed Gorman & martin H. Greenberg (eds.) [Gorman, Ed & Greenberg, martin H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci Fi, Horror
Publisher: Penguin Books
Published: 1989-01-10T00:00:00+00:00

Rick Hautala may well be one of the next few horror writers to become a Brand Name, his Winter Wakes (Warner) selling extremely well and receiving some exceptional notices. Only recently has he turned to shorter fiction and, as you’ll see here, he’s done quite well by the form.

GETTING THE JOB DONE

Rick Hautala

1

“I’m the perfect man to get the job done!” Phil SanSouci said. “I can’t believe you’re not letting me run with this.”

He was standing in front of Captain Richards’ desk, both fists clenched, supporting himself as he leaned forward. He was telling himself to stay calm, that any agitation he displayed would only strengthen Richard’s contention that someone else should take over the case he and McCammon, his partner, had been working on for the last few months.

A good cop learns to read upside down so he can see whatever’s on someone’s desk—you never knew when it would give you a lead—but Phil didn’t need to read a word of the file Richards had spread out in front of him; it was everything they had gotten to date on the man the local press had dubbed “The Alley Cat.” He was suspected of at least six separate attacks on young women in the past seven months—six attacks that had left five women dead, all of them found with their throats slit from ear to ear. The sixth had—fortunately—made it to her car, locked the door, and gotten away with her life and a broken side window.

“You have run with it,” Richards said as mildly as was possible for him. A throat wound from Viet Nam had turned his voice into a rumbling growl even when he whispered, which wasn’t often.

“You’ve run too far with it, and I’m turning it over to someone else. You’re too close to it, Phil, and that’s when cops make mistakes. . .sometimes fatal mistakes.”

Phil had to take a deep breath and hold it in tightly before he said something he might regret. The heels of his hands were tingling from lack of blood, and he found himself wishing, just this once, that Richards wasn’t his superior; he’d like nothing better than to haul off and slug him.

“Goddamnit! I’m the perfect man to get the job done,” Phil said, straining to keep his voice steady. “I’ve got the motivation to run this bastard down and get him.”

Richards heaved a deep sigh and began drumming his felt-tipped pen on his ink blotter. Phil knew the signal—That’s all! End of discussion!—but he couldn’t let it drop. . .not yet. . .not when Annie was involved.

“Detective work is not revenge,” Richards said. His voice was calm, but the edges of his mouth twitched, showing his growing impatience. “You should just thank your lucky stars that it was Annie who got away from this—this Alley Cat. Think about the five women who didn’t.”

“I do—all the time,” Phil said, stepping back from the desk and trying like hell to loosen his fists. “I think about them every day we’re out there looking for this creep.

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