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.jpg) I was born in Madrid, Spain, Torejon AFB, to American parents, the fourth of seven children, and was delivered by a flight nurse. My father was stationed at WPAFB in Dayton, Ohio, and I was raised in Fairborn, Ohio, and I attended most of my schools there, from grade school, junior high and high school. In 1975, after my father walked out on our family, we were forced to move. I now reside in Beech Grove, Indiana, where I attended Beech Grove High School, graduating in 1978. I began writing in my early teens, and wrote my first book, The Disappearance of Eliza Smith, in the 7th grade as an extra credit assignment. I recently completed my first novel, Copper's Bluff, the first in my Midwest Suspense series, although I do have 4 other books listed on amazon.com.
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MY ACCOMPLISHMENTS:
- I won third place in a poetry contest in 1988, with my poem A Popsicle Wrapper.
- I received the Army Achievement Medal while serving my country in the 80's.
- I self-published four books--3 through createspace.com and one through lulu.com. They are all on amazon.com.
- I have entered my suspense novel, Copper's Bluff, in the Amazon Breathrough Novel Award Contest, and am waiting to see if I made it through the first round.
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MY NEWS:
My novel, Copper's Bluff has been entered in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Contest for 2010.
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MY FAVORITE LINKS:
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MY RESIDENCE INFO:
City: Beech Grove
State/Country: Indiana
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BOOKS PUBLISHED:
Prologue
Seven years earlier---
Officer Kenneth Dietz arrived at the bluff angry. His girlfriend, Linda, had walked out on him. It took him three days to find out where she’d gone, and when he found out who she was with, he was furious. He knew she’d been dating his partner, Anthony Davis, for some time now, but if she thought he was going to just let her walk out of his life, she could think again. There was no way he was going to let her go, especially to his partner—not without a fight. She was carrying his child after all and he’d be damned if he’d let her take that away from him. No, it had to end here and now. If he couldn’t have her, then he was going to make sure no one else could either.
He saw her cabin across the clearing and walked toward it in a huff, pounding the snow with every step he took, listening to the deathly crunch beneath his feet, and imagining that Linda’s neck would make the same noise beneath his squeezing hands. His fist was raised even before he got to the door, and when he knocked, he did it with force.
“Linda!” He waited a few moments, and when she didn’t reply, his knocking became more insistent. “I know you’re in there, Linda! Open the door!” He tried the doorknob but it was locked.
“Go away!” Linda called through the door.
“I just want to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said.
“Aw, come on, Linda,” he pleaded with her. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Let me in.” He rattled the door.
“No!”
“I miss you, honey. Come back to me.” He paused. “I promise I’ll never hurt you again. Please Linda, I need you.” The lie had always worked before.
But not this time. “It’s over, Kenneth,” she said with finality.
“Damnit, Linda! That baby belongs to me!” he said, referring to her pregnancy. “I won’t let you take that away from me, do you hear me?”
“Please go away!” Linda cried, backing away from the door.
“Why don’t you come out and make me!” Ken yelled, pounding on the door again.
“Go away or I’ll call the police!” she warned.
That made him laugh. “The police?” he said, looking down at his uniform. “I am the police! Now open the door, Linda, before I break it down!” he threatened, still laughing. He heard the sound of crunching snow and whirled, his hand going to the butt of his gun, prepared to defend himself, only to realize he was too late. The man coming toward him was his friend and partner, Officer Anthony Davis, who had already drawn his weapon. He kept it leveled in Ken’s direction as he approached.
“Step away from the door, Ken!”
“Partner!” Ken said in welcome, taking a step toward him. He stopped when Davis jerked his gun at him.
“Don’t move!” Davis said. “Raise ‘em high!”
“Hey, partner,” Ken smiled, raising his hands. “What are you doing?”
“Step away from the door,” Davis repeated, waving the gun. “Now!”
“Okay, okay,” Ken said, stepping away from the door. “Stay cool, brother.”
“I’m not your brother.”
Ken nodded, his eyes never leaving Davis’ face. “What are you gonna do now, partner, shoot me?”
Davis shook his head but did not lower the gun. “Only if I have to,” he warned. He took a step toward Ken. “Your gun! Hand it over.” As Ken reached down to unstrap the gun, he said, “Slowly, Dietz, slowly.”
Dietz glanced up and offered a smile. “Whatever you say, partner.” He reached down, unstrapped the gun and pulled it from the holster. He held it up by the grip, barrel angled toward the ground. “Where do you want it?” he asked, his other hand still poised above his head.
“Over there!” Davis barked. “Toss it! Now!”
Dietz tossed the gun in the direction his partner indicated, his eyes watching where it landed, just in case, then turned back to Davis, eyebrows raised.
“Place your hands on top of your head.”
Ken lowered one of his hands to his head, smiling across at Davis, testing him.
“Both hands!”
Ken lowered his other hand to the top of his head, laughing. “Very good, Tony.”
“Shut up!” Davis demanded, walking toward Kenneth; he stopped within a foot of him. He reached out with his right foot and tapped on the cabin door. “Linda!” he called out, concerned. “You okay?”
“I’m—I’m okay,” Linda acknowledged. She recognized Tony’s voice immediately, but didn’t dare to leave the cabin. Instead, she listened to their conversation from the safety inside. Now that Tony was here everything would be all right. He would know how to handle Kenneth. The two men had been friends, practically for life, and partners on the Job from the beginning. Kenneth would never do anything to hurt Tony.
“Stay inside,” Tony told her. “Call 911!” There was no way Tony himself could call for backup since he’d left his squad parked halfway up the hill. It was winter and the heavy snowfall of the previous evening made the remainder of the road undriveable. Had it been summer and the road dry, the bluff would have been more accessible. Nor had he thought to bring his handheld; after all, he hadn’t been expecting any trouble. There was no warning of anything going on at the cabin. It was his lunch break and he intended to share it with Linda. That Kenneth was here was just a fluke—a very bad coincidence. He spoke to Kenneth.
“Turn around. Slowly.”
Kenneth did as he was told.
“Start walking,” Tony instructed, keeping his gun up and trained on his partner’s back.
“Walk?” Ken said, turning to look over his shoulder. “Where?”
“Just walk,” Tony repeated, touching the gun to his shoulder and applying pressure.
“You’re the boss,” Ken said, walking into the clearing, away from the cabin, toward the bluff.
Tony followed and halfway across the clearing, he said, “Okay, that’s far enough.”
Kenneth paused, hands still on his head, waiting. His eyes scoured the area in front of him without moving his head. No cover or concealment within easy reach. There were trees to his left and right, but making a run for them, he knew, would be a lethal mistake. Tony would take him out before he could even get close. Directly in front of him was nothing but a vast expanse of white, virgin snow, spreading out and ending at the bluff.
“Turn round,” Tony said.
“Make up your mind,” Ken said, turning around.
Both men stood facing each other, less than a foot apart.
“Well, now that you have me here, partner, what are you gonna do with me?” Ken asked, tempting him.
“We’ll just wait here until the other uniforms arrive,” Davis answered.
Ken nodded. “That might be a long wait, Officer.”
“I’m in no hurry.”
Ken tried another approach. “Look, I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“You already have.”
“I just wanted to talk to Linda,” Ken said, lowering his hands.
“Get ‘em back up!”
“Come on, buddy.” Ken laughed. “We’re partners.”
“Are we?”
“Sure we are,” Ken answered. “We’ve shared our whole lives together. We share our Job. Hell, partner,” he said, looking directly into Tony’s eyes, “we even share the same girl!”
A muscle twitched in Tony’s jaw. “Not anymore,” he seethed. “She doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
“She doesn’t have a choice,” Ken snickered.
“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Tony asked, curious.
“You mean she hasn’t told you?” Ken pretended surprise.
“Told me what?”
“She’s pregnant.” Kenneth laughed at the look on Tony’s face, knowing. “So, she hasn’t told you.”
“No,” Tony confessed, but he was beginning to suspect that she was. Although he’d only been seeing her for a couple of months, she hadn’t had a period in that time and her pants were fitting her a bit more snugly. He hadn’t asked her, and she hadn’t told him. Now, he knew, but one question remained—who was the father? Ken’s next words supplied the answer.
“The baby’s mine, Tony,” Ken told him, smiling.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why don’t you ask her?” Ken said, nodding in the direction of the cabin.
Tony followed his gaze, turning his head to see Linda standing just outside the door. “Linda! Get back inside!” he called to her, but he made himself vulnerable by taking his eyes off his subject, and it was all the time Ken needed to make his attack.
Ken rushed his partner, catching him off guard. The impact shoved Tony backwards and off his feet, knocking the gun out of his hand. Both men hit the snow fighting. The altercation carried them across the clearing and dangerously close to the bluff.
“Tony!” Linda cried, running toward the two men.
Hearing her, Tony yelled, “Linda, stay back!” catching a fist in the gut for his effort.
“No, Linda!” Ken yelled. “Come back! Let’s all die together!” He laughed, took a glance over the bluff and reached out for her.
“No!” Tony shouted, slamming his body into Ken’s, knocking him away from Linda.
Linda ran back to the cabin, paused at the door when she heard a siren. Oh, thank God, she breathed, glancing back at the men grappling at the edge of the bluff. She could sense the struggle would lead to a fatal end. Hurry, her mind cried out to the siren in the distance. Oh, please hurry.
Tony and Ken seemed to hear the siren at about the same time. Sharing the same thought, their eyes began to search for the guns lost in the snow. Ken found his first and as he picked it up, he turned and leveled it in Linda’s direction.
“Say good-bye, Linda!” he yelled, and just as his finger began to squeeze the trigger, Tony hit him from behind. The shot went wild, barely missing Linda’s head, imbedding itself in the wood frame of the door behind her.
* * * *
Detective Sergeant Quade Randal parked his car halfway up the hill, climbed out and walked around to the cruiser parked in front of him. He leaned down to look inside; empty. He took off a glove and pressed a hand to the hood; cold. It had been parked here awhile. He glanced around. No other vehicles were to be seen.
He returned to his car, opened the door and leaned in to grab the mic. His fingers touched the mic and he jumped as a gunshot exploded in the distance. “What the . . .?” he said, looking around. No one had said anything about guns.
He grabbed up the mic, radioed it in, and called for back-up. “Shots have been fired!” he shouted into the mic. “I repeat: Shots have been fired! Use extreme caution.” He replaced the mic, grabbed up his walkie-talkie, and shut the door. He turned and raised his head to look up the hill, straining to see anything, but he couldn’t. He pulled his gun from the shoulder holster he wore under his jacket and trudged up the hill, unsure of what would meet him there.
He knew very little aside from what the radio had said—woman in distress, and that the woman was pregnant. No names and no motive, but it sounded a lot more serious than that to him, and the closer he got to the bluff, the worse it sounded. Randal knew that if he didn’t get up there quick, no one would be safe.
It didn’t take him long to scale the hill as he was in excellent physical condition, and as he came abreast of the cabin, he could see two men—both uniforms—in an altercation at the edge of the bluff. He couldn’t tell, from his position, which of them possessed the gun, or if both of them did. The woman was nowhere to be seen.
Quade ducked down behind the crest of the hill and raised the walkie-talkie to his mouth. He keyed the mic. “This is Randal. I have arrived at the scene.”
“Ten-four, Randal. Can you advise?”
“There is an altercation involving two uniforms.”
“Repeat?”
Quade smiled, but repeated. “Two policemen. They’re fighting on the edge of the bluff.”
“Ten-four. Be advised back-up is on the way, Sergeant.”
“Roger that. I’m going up.” Quade ended the transmission and scrambled up over the hill. He entered the clearing unseen and approached the men, his gun at low carry but prepared. He stopped halfway across the clearing and introduced himself by saying, “Police! What’s the problem here?”
The two men separated at the sound of his voice, and Kenneth whirled around, bringing his gun to bear on Quade.
Quade, caught totally by surprise, barely had time to raise his gun, aim and fire, paying the consequence, as the bullet ripped into his right shoulder. The other man wasn’t so lucky, taking his in the abdomen.
Lowering his gun, the man inspected his stomach. “You shot me!” he said in mild disbelief. He looked across at Quade, who stood rigid, arms outstretched, gun still aimed in his direction. “I’m one of you! How could you shoot one of your own?”
Quade paid no attention to his own injury, although it hurt like hell to continue the stance. He refused to acknowledge the pain, for fear it might cause his undoing. “Drop the gun, Officer!” he yelled across the clearing, wondering when his back-up would arrive. “Drop it now!” Quade spared a thought for the woman, hoping she was uninjured, and wondering where she was—probably in the cabin, but he dared not look.
Ken started to laugh, softly at first, then with more volume. “You know an officer never gives up his gun!” he shouted, beginning to raise his arm.
“Then take it with you,” Quade whispered under his breath, and he pulled the trigger again. This time the slug tore into Ken’s gun arm, and already weakened, he began to stagger, teetering on the edge of the bluff. Tony, suddenly not wanting to let his friend die, reached out to try to pull him back to safety.
It was at that critical moment that Linda chose to emerge from the cabin. She looked toward the bluff, saw Tony make a desperate lunge for Ken, and the bottom fell out of her heart. “Tony—no!” she screamed, running toward them.
Ken saw her, smiled, then reached out and latched onto Tony’s gun belt. “Time to die, Tony.”
“Kenny—what?—no!” Tony screamed, but his words were lost as both men tumbled over the side of the bluff and into the snow bed ninety feet below.
Four years earlier---
Article from The Indianapolis Star Newspaper, November 2006---
WIFE OF LOCAL HOMICIDE DETECTIVE FOUND MURDERDED
The wife of a local Homicide Detective was found murdered in
her home yesterday. Her body was discovered by her husband,
Marion County Homicide Detective Quade Randal, as he was
returning home from work.
“It’s just tragic,” said Captain William Ramsey, Randal’s superior
officer.
Linda Randal was a nurse at St. Francis Hospital South Campus
in Indianapolis. The couples’ 3 year old daughter, who apparently
witnessed the crime, was found in the home unharmed, but crying.
When asked whether the police had any suspects in mind, Captain
Ramsey commented, “Mrs. Randal was a pillar of this community, and
a friend to everyone she met. She had no enemies, and we can’t
understand who would do this to her or why. We appeal to the
public to help us solve this horrible crime. Any tips they may have,
we would appreciate.”
When asked if Detective Randal was being considered as a
suspect, he replied, “Not at this time.”
An investigation into Mrs. Randal’s death is ongoing, and
funeral arrangements are pending. Detective Randal could not
be reached for comment.
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 A Note to the Reader
This story was written when I was in my 20’s, so if it sounds a bit dated, I apologize.
Introduction
Oh, no, you’re saying—not another story about suicide! Will we ever hear the end of it? My question to you: should we ever hear the end of it? And my answer is no, but then, I’m biased.
I was a suicide-attempter.
Sounds rather familiar, doesn’t it? Kind of like admitting we’re alcoholics; AA and all that.
I can see it now: I’m standing at the podium at the local SAA—Suicide-Attempters Anonymous club. I clear my throat, shuffle my notes, and stare out at all those reflections of myself in the audience. How dead they look—how withered, like me.
I open my mouth and say, “Hi, I’m Susan Gratton, and I’m a suicide-attempter.” Then I laugh, because it’s all so ridiculous, but is it really?
Suicide is not something to laugh at. It is a very serious business, especially to the person who is contemplating it. It is candy. It is escape. It is diversion. It is excitement. It is the light at the end of that long, dark, and lonely depression—a light that attracts the person as sound attracts the bat. That person goes to the light willingly, maybe even gratefully, and almost always with an air of confusion.
I was 19 when I attempted to merge with that light.
CHAPTER ONE
I took an overdose of sleeping pills. They weren’t enough to kill me (did I really want to die?), but they were enough to make my family look and laugh. Yes, laugh. They thought I was only being stupid and immature. They thought I was dumb, but I wasn’t.
You see, like every other suicide-attempter, I had a reason for doing what I did. A very good reason. I was tired of living the way I was living. I was running out of ways to communicate with my family. I was just plain fed up. I wanted out.
I come from a broken family—so broken, there’s really nothing left anymore. My father lied his way out of our lives when I was just 13, and I am still feeling that pain. When he came back later that year and said he wanted to divorce (divorce? What’s that?) our mother—well, I’m still confused.
Was he saying he didn’t love my mom anymore? was he willing to throw away 21 years just like that?
What was that, Dad? Did I hear you right? Did you say you’re living with another woman (adultery)? But how can that be? You’re still married to my mother!
I went to live with my father that year, even though I had already begun to hate him, but I couldn’t get along with my stepmother. I was flown back home—to Fairborn, Ohio—within eight months. The year was 1974.
CHAPTER TWO
Looking back, I can see this is where I made my first mistake—by coming home—because after that, nothing was the same. In all actuality, everything got worse.
Yes, I realize I am not such an unusual case. My story is a typical one, and I am not the only one with problems, but back then, I thought I was. I wouldn’t’ve wished, even upon my worst enemy, the pain that I was feeling. I still wouldn’t.
My suicide attempt, which came in the wake of my mother’s second (does that make her an expert?), was basically, an “attention getter”. I was trying to say, as I had tried to say so many times before—“Hey, guys, I don’t like the way things are going,” but it didn’t work. I knew it wouldn’t. I not only failed in killing myself, I failed in getting their attention.
No, I take that back. I did get some attention, but it was the wrong kind.
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