Detective Steven Quaid’s career was made because he captured the Snowman, Stowy Jenkin’s, even though it was pure luck on the rookie’s part. Fifteen years later, Stowy’s escaped prison. The Snowman wants revenge, starting with the reporter who detailed Steven’s heroics, Denise Cochran, Steven’s ex-wife.
Will it be luck or Detective Quaid that finally ends the Snowman’s reign of terror?
A middle-class neighborhood. A quiet street. People going about their daily business with no awareness that a monster moved amongst them. Stowy arrived home to an empty house. He used a key he’d hidden ten years earlier and was surprised when it worked. “I don’t know why, but I thought for sure she’d have changed the locks,” he said to no one as he stepped into the immaculate kitchen.
After a shower, and a bubble bath, Stowy cooked up a massive helping of steak and eggs. He was just finishing his meal when his mother came home. She had several large shopping bags.
“You’re alive! She screamed and dropped her packages.
“Sorry to disappoint you Mother, but, yes. I’m very much alive.”
“They said your plane went down. Everyone said you were dead.”
“And in your grief, you just had to go shopping. Have you already cashed in on my life insurance?”
She hugged her son as he sat at the table. “Oh, Stowy, my baby. You know shopping has always been my therapy.” She kissed his head. “So tell me. How did you do it?”
“I’m tired. I need to rest. Where’s that no good for nothing Zeke Savon? I have a bone to pick with him.”
“He left a week ago. Said he was going to the prison to see you. Didn’t you see him before your flight?”
Stowy shook his head. “And you’ve heard nothing from him. I thought you two were getting married.”
Fern laughed. “That pig. Over my dead body. Sure, we came to an understanding but marriage. No!” She insisted.
“Methinks you protest too much. Zeke sent me nothing but glowing texts about you and your burgeoning relationship.”
“I played the game. I had to or lose my life. You know how cruel he can be.”
Stowy stood. He grabbed her by the throat. “Cruel? You call his love for you cruel? You called it adoration when you submitted me to your version of love!” He squeezed hard and drug her back to her bedroom. She tried to fight, but he was too strong. She dug her nails into the skin of his arms. He threw her violently to the bed. “I learned a lot about you and myself, mother. Prison’s been an unexpected good thing for me. Your old tricks will no longer work. As far as I’m concerned, you’re already dead.” Using the handcuffs that were already attached to the bed, he secured her hands.
“Oh, Stowy, you’re wrong. So wrong. I could never, ever—.”
“Shut up, Mother,” he said and stuffed a ballcock into her mouth and secured it. “I’m glad to see you still like your toys. I’ll be back after a good night’s sleep. You better hope it’s a good one too, or you’ll never get out of this bed!”