Free SUSPENSE THRILLERS-A Boxed Set by Billie Sue Mosiman Page B

with pain. In one sudden, terrible flash of knowledge, Willie knew that he was losing the race and forfeiting his fife. He could not outrun the man. He could not out-jump him or outmaneuver him.
    "Dad...please Dad, help me..." he panted.
    Willie was grabbed from behind and lifted off his feet in one motion. His legs, still pumping, began to kick.
    His fists beat on the man who held him tightly. Willie was rolled into spongy dew-wet grass. A tremendous weight rolled him over, then covered him. He screamed but a fleshy palm broke it off. His nose was and mouth were covered. He tried to scuttle away, but the palm held him, and the weight holding him threatened to burst his chest open.
    He could not see his attacker in the near dark, but he felt hairy masculine arms around him.
    The man flipped onto his back, bringing Willie up into the air and onto his chest. The boy kicked frantically. His fingernails clawed at the hand on his face, finally getting his nose free, and he sucked in air that burned as it filled his chest.
    The arm around Willie's chest moved swiftly to his throat. For a second the boy was free. He gasped, jerked forward, and tried to roll away. But a wire sank into his throat.
    One tender, spicing cut. Closing off his breath. Stars flying, bursting crazily inside his head, plummeting into endless black space. A snap. The heart fluttering, a weak bird against the constriction of a cage.
    Willie DeShane fought to the final second, and then he gave up his life, his body shuddering delicately in the arms of a killer, his green eyes filming over, reflecting the cold, merciless light of the stars as they began to twinkle in the growing darkness.

Chapter 9

IT WAS EARLY EVENING at the Ringer house and the three people living there were tense and morose.
    Nick was in an especially bad mood. For months he had insisted Madra, this "handmaiden to a Paris fag," this " bride of Dracula," this "poor little peasant girl with the starry eyes," had to be disposed of--let go, run off, sent away. Daley ignored the verbal abuse when he could, but lately his own temper erupted more often, and he found himself out-shouting his brother simply to be heard.
    Madra, on the other hand, was coming close to imitating an incoherent babbler. The seizures that surfaced soon after she moved in and grew steadily worse as the emotional atmosphere in the house grew more tense.
    For a long time Daley did not know what was wrong. For a while he thought her merely dreamy, preoccupied, perhaps absentminded. But when the dazed looks came so frequently they frightened him, he searched the college library for medical books to pinpoint the problem. It did not take long. Madra's symptoms were more blatant than ever. Five-second trances grew to a full minute. There were times when she was absolutely unaware of her surroundings.
    Epilepsy. Mild form that resulted in lost of consciousness. Petit mal .
    Daley worried, but he did not tell Madra what he had discovered. She called it daydreaming, and she was close enough. If only Nick would leave her alone. Couldn't he see Madra was a woman with troubles?
    Perhaps Daley would speak to his brother after dinner. This constant bickering was too hard on all of them.
    Madra had cooked pasta. The spaghetti sauce had simmered all day, and the delicious smell of garlic, onion, and oregano permeated the house. It smelled wonderfully homey, unlike anything the brothers were used to. At the table, however, Nick looked up from his place and gave Daley a nasty grin. Daley knew what was coming.
    "Too much tomato paste," Nick commented dryly, sampling a forkful of steaming spaghetti, the sauce dripping onto his plate. "Tastes like an acid bath."
    Madra quietly stood and wrapped the cape over her shoulders. She tied it at the neck, then sat down stiffly.
    Nick grinned, and at that moment Daley hated him. Why did his brother work so hard at being disagreeable?
    "Too much salt too. Did you dump the Morton's box in it, Madra?" Nick