Happy Holidays!

I hope everyone is having a happy holiday season. Unfortunately, I was trying to complete my second book in the "Ghost Partner" series before the end of the year and publish it. That's not going to happen. I'm only about 90-95% done and have to figure out an ending. You know, life gets in the way. I'm hoping to have the book done by the end of Spring.

But as an early holiday present, I would like to give you all a short portion of the first chapter of the next book. I hope you like it. I'm calling the next book "The Mask Maker." A serial murderer is removing people faces to place on his own ruined face. Kind of creepy, but interesting.

CHAPTER 1

I’m Mark Wilson, the lead detective on the Los Angeles Police force on the hunt for California’s latest serial killer called, “The Mask Maker.” Announcing at roll call yesterday morning, that the Mask Maker has killed at least twelve people we know of over the past two years. He murders his victims and then carves off their face. He then puts these faces onto his ruined tissue hoping that it will adhere and not reject. Nobody’s face has survived the time trial so far.

            No one knows what his real name is, but I believe his name is Craig Scott. Craig worked at a chemical plant, “ChemCleaner,” on the outskirts of the valley. During what should have been a routine transfer of a liquid chemical into plastic storage gallons, Craig stepped on a metal rolling pin that dropped to the floor earlier and he fell backwards near the filling station on the ground. This rolling pin is one of many that the rolling line pathway uses to move plastic gallons filled with chemicals as they slide and are eventually placed into a cardboard shipping containers at the end of the line.

            As he fell, Craig grabbed the plastic line to stop his fall. This plastic line transfers the chemical into a plastic gallon. The line tore from its guide wires and the chemical spilled onto Craig’s face as he landed on his back in the chemicals path. The chemical covered every inch of Craig’s face. Luckily, he’d closed his eyes fast enough, so he wasn’t blinded. His face didn’t fare as well because the chemical did its damage quickly. The chemical is so caustic it ate his top seven layers of skin. It made him look like a skeleton face because his cheek bones were protruding out without all that fatty skin tissue to cover them.

            After being taken to the local hospital, the doctor’s told him his face would most likely be severely pockmarked for the rest of his life. He could do some plastic surgery to use some of his own skin from his thighs or buttocks to graft onto his face. Craig didn’t have any money or insurance that would pay for this type of surgery. All the hospital could provide would be medicated lotions and salves to cover the ruined portion of his face. He stayed in the hospital for a few days as they covered his face with bandages to help begin healing. Craig looked in the mirror at the hospital and knew he would never look the same again. At that point, he lost his mind and wanted revenge on the company where he worked. It was then he decided to take one of the managers face skin to cover his own face. A few days later, he killed his first victim from the company and used a scalpel to cutoff the man’s face and place it on his own.

            I’ve been tracking Craig around the Los Angeles suburbs and nearby towns. I just missed him when I saw him pass me in a car heading north. How do I know it was him, because he was wearing what looks like plastic wrap wound around his face? No, he doesn’t look like the invisible man. He looks scarier. Craig gave me the finger as he passed me. I wasn’t anywhere near my undercover car so he got away clean. After completing a long shift, I headed home to get some sleep.

            The next morning, after eating a good breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and two split halves of an English muffin with black raspberry jam, I was ready to head to work when my doorbell rang. I thought it was my partner Travis Porter, so I went to the door. Upon opening it, Craig was standing there. He shot me with a stun gun. I dropped to the ground where I flopped around the floor like a fish out of water due to my muscle spasms. Craig leaned over me and said, “I hear you’ve been searching for me. You don’t have to look any more. Thanks detective! I believe I’ve found my next face.”

          As you can surmise, I didn’t survive the encounter. Shortly after my attack, the “Mask Maker” thought it would be prudent to leave the area now that he was a cop killer. All other efforts to find the serial killer around the greater Los Angeles area was fruitless.

*******

I hope you enjoy the holidays.

Brent