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Ann Deprés

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Member Since: Jun, 2011

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Identity
by Ann Deprés   

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Category: 

Mystery/Suspense

Type: 
Pages: 

300

Copyright:  2014
Fiction

A tattered soul becomes a force to be reckoned with when she discovers a way to live as two separate people, literally!

Deprés Talks

What if there were no consequences for your actions…and what if you could assume the identity of someone else whenever you wanted to… better yet, what if you could shape your life into the perfect tool for vengeance…? 
 
Two worlds converge as Samantha Clearwater (Sam) excises her demons using her unique gift… the world of civilized society, and that of the underbelly, the criminally violent. Sam oscillates between both undetected, houses two distinct identities... a well-respected author, and one cold, calloused killer. 
  


Excerpt

WITH EACH OF MY preceding novels, I spent the night before the reading pacing the floor, waiting for the announcement placing me, yet again, in the top five on the New York Times bestsellers list.

Although I'm not entirely fond of the attention I've been garnering from the media with my current novel, Dark Images, I am particularly proud of the fact that I now have five novels that have graced the list.

Some author's struggle the duration of their careers and never come close to what I have attained in only five short years.

My first and only agent, Jethro Habichak, whom I warmly refer to as Hak, has been a Godsend. Thanks to his bulldog tenacity, and strategic marketing genius, I have managed to cleverly avoid all of the difficulties many seasoned authors claim to have endured during their rise from obscurity.

THE READING

The riffling, rumbling, and idle chatter of the impatient audience slowly fades when I approach the podium, and the room falls silent as I begin reading.

“Craig was careful to steer clear of street lights when he turned into the cul-de-sac on Desouris Lane. He hummed a classical tune by DeBussy as he slipped onto the porch and rang the bell, because he liked to think of himself as a happy man, one who didn’t see the necessity in worrying as it only gives you wrinkles before your time.

He flashed a toothy smile when the porch light came on because he knew that a smile always put them at ease.

It was late, half past eleven when the doorbell rang, and Roberta, a robust warm-hearted woman, though nervous about opening the door to anyone that time of night, took an instant liking to the young man standing on her porch.

While observing him through the peephole, his boyish features and charming smile had captivated her. He looked to be about twenty-one, the same age as her Bobby whom she hadn’t heard from in over a year now.

This stranger with the face of an angel ringing her bell in the middle of the night, claiming to have news from her grandson, prompted Roberta to immediately let down her guard and under the false assumption that everyone is as well-intentioned as she, let the man in.

He flashed that thousand-watt smile as he stepped in and backed away allowing her to close and lock the door. He was still smiling as he helped her to her recliner and pulled the tattered old hand-made quilt across her swollen knees, and when Roberta asked what the urgent news was from Bobby, that smile was the last thing she saw before the young man pulled out a switch blade and slit her throat...”

The excerpt from my book, a rousing success, culminates in a standing ovation from the thousands of attentive listeners whom society deems literary geniuses, hooting and hollering, whistling and clapping.

It is strangely exhilarating knowing that I have just outlined the perfect murder, confessed to an audience of thousands, all of whom are oblivious of the fact that this perfect murder will in fact take place later tonight.

More often than not life will sneak up and proceed to kick the crap out of you, so why should I feel guilty about the choices I've made? If I don't use this gift, somebody else will.

Poor grandmother…, Bobby was always a spoiled, selfish little prick, and her favorite.

She never loved us girls as much, and even though I always knew that one day he would be the death of her…, I didn’t know that I would be the one wielding the blade.

How will the literati react when they pick up tomorrow mornings paper, turn on the early morning news…, will they fear for, sympathize with me?

Perhaps New York's finest will offer round-the-clock protection while they probe the underbelly of society for potential suspects.





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