Signal Boost: Saint Tommy, NYPD



My name is Detective Thomas Nolan, and I am a saint.

This is neither boasting nor an exaggeration.  

I only had an inkling on the morning I chased Anthony Young, purse snatcher…again.  Kid was four years older than my son. Young Anthony (see what I did there?), a 20th time offender, had upgraded to double duty, on this day both snatching the purse as well as the iPhone of Malinda Jones. Malinda was one of many careless New Yorkers who are so deep into their phones that they barely registered oncoming traffic, to heck with noticing a thief running up on them.

My radar was already up after Anthony bumped against me as he brushed past. I didn’t bother checking for theft. I had nothing in the pockets of my tan overcoat, and my pants pockets were out of the reach of even a skilled thief. I merely continued my morning offering as the Opus Dei had taught me and was about to go into the Our Father.

Then Anthony charged forward, sweeping Malinda’s purse from her shoulder, and plucking the iPhone from her hand. It was the latest model, over a thousand dollars’ worth of technology in one easy-to-steal package.

Obviously, Anthony didn’t see the all-caps NYPD emblazoned in gold letters on the front AND back of my policeman-blue baseball cap.

To make matters worse—for him—was that he did this in front of the mental health court for Queens, heralded by the black wrought-iron fence about ten feet high, which was serviced by the NYPD as their security. Further down the block was a housing community with its own private security.

In short, there was no real way that Anthony was going to get to the end of the (admittedly very long) block.

I was still under an obligation to chase the idiot. “Freeze! Police!” I barked before I took off after him. As expected, it made him run faster, but he obviously heard me, so he had his fair warning.  

I pounded along the pavement behind Anthony, who was built for speed over anything else. He was short and slight, but he could run. I was bigger, a bit over six foot, and broad in the shoulders. Every big man will tell you one thing—running was just a great way to destroy your ankles and your knees if you do it right. I was a lumbering truck chasing after a motorcycle, but the moment Anthony ran out of gas, the impact would be similar.

As I ran, I mentally recited the Our Father and was on the Hail Mary when the strangeness happened. Suddenly, I could see myself ahead of Anthony… while at the same time, standing in front of him, I saw myself chase behind Anthony. It was a strange, vivid experience, with each view of Anthony as clear as the highest definition television—with almost more clarity than real life.  

It was odd, but I was also too busy to ponder it. I held out an arm, leaned into it, and Anthony just ran into my arm. He clothes-lined himself so hard, his feet left the ground. I swept back under him as fast as I could, catching him just before his head hit the concrete. It wouldn’t do for him to have brain damage over a stolen purse—it wasn’t like he had little gray cells he could afford to lose.

I smiled into his face. “Hi Anthony. Would you like to tell me your rights? We’ve done this dance too often.”

What you get

You’ll get some of the best horror books ever written, from an author who has been a Dragon Award finalist for “Best Horror Novel” twice in the three short years of the award’s history. These books are available in hardcover, paperback, and ebook formats for your convenience. What’s more, all hardcover and paperback editions will be signed and personalized by the author!

Book 1, Hell Spawn, is nearing completion and will be shipped by the end of October. Book 2, Death Cult, will ship 4-6 weeks after that, and book 3, Infernal Affairs will ship 4-6 weeks following Death Cult.

On Kickstarter