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Monsters in our Midst
A chilling story about the disappearance of a child
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ISBN-10: 1-55404-637-8
Genre: Suspense/Thriller/Mystery
eBook Length: 107 Pages
Published: January 2009

From inside the flap

MONSTERS IN OUR MIDST is a chilling tale with a shocking conclusion, about the strange disappearance of a child... A schoolboy hurried along narrow deserted streets clutching a satchel of books under his arm. The murky winter twilight gathered stealthily around him. As he passed by the corner grocery store, he waved to the proprietor, who returned the greeting. He didnít have far to go now; his home was just the third house down from the corner. Where, at that very moment, his mother boiled water for his tea. But he never made it. For somewhere in that short distance of just about 100 feet, he simply vanished and was never seen again. Fifteen years later, the case still remained unsolved.

Reviews and Awards

"Karen Lewis takes you back in time to solve a cold case. She has written a very interesting mystery that will leave you completely shocked at the outcome. Scott Preston is a newspaper reporter given a very difficult assignment. He has to investigate a cold case of a missing boy that happened fifteen years ago. The police couldn't solve the case, so he feels that he shouldn't be asked to look into this case. The more he investigates the more interested he gets. Things don't always add up the way they should. This book will hold your interest from page one all the way to the very last page. I would recommend this book. 4.5 stars

As far as cold cases go, this has to be one of the worst, and Scott Preston is just the lucky reporter to catch it. With dogged determination, he hopes to find some small clue as to the disappearance of Martin Perry.

Lieutenant Neil Slater has had the case of Martin Perry open for 15 long years, and not one shred of evidence has come to light in all of that time. The boy simply vanished without a trace on one bitterly cold winter day.

Scott and Neil hope their re-investigation of the disappearance of Martin Perry will stir up some long-forgotten clues. They bring different perspectives and opinions on the subjects in question, and as time drags on, begin to unravel the mysteries of Martinís disappearance. While his mother clings desperately to the hope that one day her son will come home, Scott and Neil are all too certain that will never happen. They can only hope to give his parents the peace that comes with knowing once and for all the fate of their only child.

Ms. Lewis brings to light one of the horrors that any parent prays they never experience. The unknown would be like a cancer that just eats away at your very soul. As a parent, I can only hope that there are people out there like Scott Preston, who take it upon themselves to keep a case like this alive. The real tragedy in this story is the fact that no matter how horrible the truth, it is so much better than not knowing.

Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance

TITLE: Monsters in out Midst
AUTHOR: Karen Lewis
PUBLISHER: Double Dragon Books
ISBN: 978-1-55404-637-9
RELEASE DATE: January 2009
GENRE: Mystery Suspense Thriller

Fifteen years ago, Martin Perry was just three houses away from home when he disappeared, without a trace. Scott Preston, a reporter from the Morning Herald, and Lieutenant Neil Slater, of the Vancouver Homicide Squad, team up to do some investigating. The people they speak with will surprise you. Clues will shock you, and the answers left unknown, for many years, will horrify you.

MONSTERS IN OUT MIDST by Karen Lewis will chill you to the bone. What an excellent suspense thriller to get lost in. This short story takes us through the cold case of a missing child for the last fifteen years. Marty Perry was only a few hundred feet from home when he vanishes, suddenly. Now, Scott Preston will spend his waking hours working with Lieutenant Slater on the most mystifying case of his career. I was so glad to see the characters return in this book for more adventures. I really like Scott and his Ďget it doneí attitude. He really cares about the boy in the case and it shows heart. I have a love-hate relationship with Slater, but that makes this story all the better. I was also excited to see Scottís grandmother, Violet, and his two friends, Meg and Ben, back again. Once the case and the particulars are laid out in front of you, you canít help but try to solve the mystery along with Scott. Every person questioned in this story has a little something to hide and you never know what itís going to be. I found myself gaping and gasping a few times, through out the story. I was so eager to read more, I was able to finish the book, in a few short hours. Karen Lewis knows how to make sneaky characters, twisting clues and a dangerous plot that will keeps you guessing, even when you think itís over. I have to tell you, I had no idea who the bad guy was. Every time a new character was introduced I was certain they were the perpetrator, but things just kept going farther and farther into left field. The fact that I had no idea what really was happening, kept me guessing, until the very end. You know, in most of the mystery books you read, you can guess who done it? Well in MONSTERS IN OUR MIDST I guessed wrong and the ending will give you the willies. I canít wait to get my hands on more of Ms. Lewisís work.

Monsters in our Midst (Excerpt)


An early winterís dusk fell on a gloomy afternoon. Smoke curled out of the chimneys. Foghorns boomed from the harbour.

A schoolboy hurried along deserted streets, clutching a satchel of books under his arm. The murky twilight gathered stealthily around him. He wore a navy-blue hooded parka. His heavy shoes beat out a staccato on the frosty sidewalks.

As he passed by a small grocery store, he waved to the proprietor who was working on a seasonal window display. Poinsettias and holly surrounded a basket of mandarin oranges.

He didnít have far to go now; his home was the third house down from the corner.

But he never made it.

For somewhere in that short distance of about one hundred feet, he simply vanished.

There was an uneasy silence in the viewing room after the clip had ended.

"So there you have it." Lieutenant Neil Slater switched off the projector. "His name is Martin Perry and he disappeared fifteen years ago. One week before his eleventh birthday."

"Then thereís not much chance heís still alive?" Scott Preston of the Morning Herald poured himself a cup of coffee at the refreshment table.

"The odds are certainly against it," Slater agreed. "But either way, a case like this is never closed. Thatís why weíre asking for the mediaís assistance in publicizing the details."

The other reporters filed out, jotting down notes and chatting to each other. Scott followed Slater into his office. "Any suspects?" he asked.

Slater shook his head. "That was one of the most perplexing things about this case. There were no known child molesters in the area at the time."

In the courtyard below, a floodlit fountain babbled beneath the eye of a mysterious moon.

"He was too old to be kidnapped by someone desperate to have a child." Scott scanned the file.

Slater yawned and ran his hands over his cropped black hair. "A door-to-door search of every house in the area, plus an extensive search of nearby parks and woods failed to come up with a single clue."

"Itís certainly a puzzle." Scott raked through old newspaper clippings. "No wonder there were such wild speculations at the time, including UFO abduction theories."

He came upon a headline from the Morning Herald in inch-high type: "Did Martin fall into the Twilight Zone?"

"Weíve done numerous updates on the Perry boyís disappearance." Editor Greg Mowatt looked impatient. "Frankly, I donít see how another one would serve any useful purpose." He took a gulp of coffee thick as sludge. "There are so many missing kids today, I doubt if our readers would be interested."

It was a raw November day with the threat of snow in the air. A freezing wind knifed in from the North Shore Mountains.

"But the circumstances surrounding Martin Perryís disappearance are unusually dramatic," Scott argued. "Someone must know something about what happened to him, perhaps without even realizing it. A full-page article on the case might just be the memory-jolter they need."

"Youíd have to come up with something new." Gregís icy blue eyes were as inhospitable as the weather. "A different angle about the case that up until now has gone undiscovered."

"December eighth is the anniversary of the boyís disappearance," Scott reminded him. "That doesnít give me much time to dig around and try to come up with something different."

"Take it or leave it." Greg shrugged dismissively, and began rummaging through a stack of papers on his desk.

"Iíll see what I can do." Scott was far from happy. He knew Gregís lack of enthusiasm regarding the Perry case was because it did not contain the lurid type of sensationalism sure to sell newspapers.

"The old buzzard wants blood and guts." Ben Hyslop was the Morning Herald photographer. "And as much sex-preferably the kinky stuff-as possible." He pulled up a chair and propped his feet on the corner of Scottís desk.

"I donít know how he expects me to come up with in two weeks that the entire police force has been unable to do in fifteen years."

"Good luck." Ben laughed.

Scott added sugar to his coffee. From his window he had a good view of the harbour. The flurry activity throughout the day had left the Vancouver skyline looking like a gigantic snow shaker tossed by a colossal child.

Scott turned up his collar against the chill and prepared to retrace Martin Perryís footsteps. It was on exactly this type of day, and at the same time in the afternoon, that the boy had disappeared just a few feet from his own front door.

He left Pemberton Elementary School as usual, at around three-thirty and set out on the fifteen-minute walk to his home on Osprey Avenue. At approximately three forty-five, he had been seen, for the last time, by the proprietor of the corner grocery store.

The Osprey Market was still there, with its windows gaily decorated for the Christmas season. Much the same, Scott thought with a twinge of nostalgia, as the last time Martin had seen it. He shivered as the full impact of what had happened on that ill-omened afternoon hit him with unexpected force.

It must be finding himself at the scene of the crime, he decide, for a crime there surely had been, but by whom? And how? And why? It was an enigma that had stumped the best police minds for more than a decade.

Art Lisle had balding red hair and a freckled skin. He rang up a few purchases for a customer, answered the telephone, and then turned his attention back to Scott.

"Iíd see Martin passing by most days on his way home from school," he reminisced. "Sometimes he would come in and buy a chocolate bar or a bottle of popÖhe was a nicely mannered kid, quiet, didnít say too much."

The evening newspapers were dropped off at the shop door. Art busied himself cutting the string and stacking them in the metal display rack.

"You know Iíll regret to the end of my days, that right after I waved to Martin, I turned around to answer the phone. Otherwise, he would have been clearly in my line of vision until he reached home."

Scott could understand the vexation Art must feel, knowing that he could have seen whatever happened to Martin if only his back had not been turned at the time.

And as he peered out the window at the opposite sidewalk, where Martin Perry had walked into oblivion on a foggy twilight so many years before, he felt a shiver of foreboding streak down his spine.

A shipís horn thundered out a warning from the murky reaches of the harbour, and a car door slammed in the back lane behind the store.

"So when you last saw him, he only had to walk past two houses to get to his home. Is that right?"

Art nodded. "And there was no-one home in either one of them at that time of day."

"What about cars?" Scott pressed on. "Did you see any traffic at all on the road around that same time?"

"Not a thing. Thereís no through traffic on Osprey, so itís really only local vehicles that use it."

"Itís a short back street that time seems to have forgotten." Scott stirred his coffee, his blue eyes thoughtful. A wintry sun sent a spiral of light into the lunchroom, capturing a swirl of dust motes. "There are several duplexes across from Martinís home now, but when he disappeared it was just a vacant lot."

"So when the shop keeper last saw him, he was walking down an empty street, past two unoccupied-at least at that moment-houses." Ben wrinkled his brow.

Scott nodded. "The corner house was owned by a Hugh and Glenda Butler; a young couple with two small children. They moved away shortly after Martinís disappearance."

"What about the next door neighbour?"

"Harriet Newton. She was quite elderly when Martin disappeared and has since sold her place and moved into a retirement home."

"So Martinís parents are the only ones who are still there?"

"Thatís right. His mother is convinced that Martin will return one day, and she wants to be there when he does."

"It makes me shiver every time I think of it." Glenda Butler showed Scott into her cluttered living room. The sharp tang of fried onions reeked from the kitchen. "Itís every parentís worst nightmare. And I had two small kids at the time."

A tall wiry woman, slightly stooped, she had a thin face and a mop of sandy hair. "The days following Martinís disappearance were like a bad dream; police searched our home, reporters banged on our door at all hours, and just plain curiosity seekers tore pieces off our fence posts and shrubbery as souvenirs."

Scott nodded in sympathy.

Glenda swept a couple of newspapers and a magazine off an armchair so he could sit down.

"We moved away just as soon as we could." She went off on at a tangent, describing in some detail the horror of life on the Osprey Avenue of some fifteen years ago.

Scott glanced around at the house they had escaped to. It was certainly smaller than the other one, and in a less pleasant neighbourhood.

"Itís all we could manage at the time," Glenda explained defensively, as if reading his thoughts. "People werenít exactly lining up to buy our old place, and we had to sell at a loss."

Glenda and her husband had both been at work, the children at their grandmotherís home on the day Martin disappeared.

Over a cup of weak tea served in mismatched china, she continued to regale him with her non-stop chatter about Martinís disappearance and the difficulties it had caused for herself and her family. Scott beat a hasty retreat at the earliest possible opportunity.

And although Harriet Newton, seated in a sunny courtyard at the Compton Manor, was a lot less strident than her erstwhile neighbour, she was just as emphatic about the difficulties she had endured with media people and curiosity seekers.

"It was something of a nightmare, Mr. Preston. God only knows how the Perrys managed to come through it all in one piece."

She reminisced about Martinís disappearance. "How can something that awful just suddenly happen in the middle of the afternoon?"

Harriet had been away on vacation at the time of Martinís disappearance. "Soaking up the Hawaiian sun." She smiled. "And oh what a horrible shock when

I returned home."

"So would you say that Martinís family was a normal and happy one?" It was the same question he had put to Glenda Butler, and to which he had received the same reply that Harriet now gave.

"Absolutely." She picked a piece of thread from her outdated fur coat. "Martin was a quiet boyÖvery studious. Julia and Everett were middle-aged when he came along, but thatís not uncommonÖin fact, itís become quite fashionable these days."

Everett Perry had a stocky build, and a bristling black moustache tinged with grey. He opened the door before Scott had a chance to knock, his expression anxious. "Itís about my wifeÖ" he confided, in a deep voice just one octave above a whisper. "She hasnít been wellÖand the only thing that keeps her going is the utter conviction that Martin is still alive."

"I understand, Mr. Perry," Scott assured him in the same hushed tone. "I wonít say anything to contradict that."

The Perrys lived in an ivy-covered house, as unpretentious inside as out. But pervading this comfortable faÁade of normalcy was a hollow feeling of grief, which seeped everywhere. It was as if the very walls held their breaths in tremulous anticipation for when the lost one would return. In this hushed almost reverent atmosphere, to laugh or even talk loudly would have been unthinkable.

Julia Perry rose from her chair beside the fire and greeted Scott with an enthusiastic handshake. She had refined features and silver blonde hair tied back at the nape. "Thank you for helping bring Martin back to us sooner," she said warmly. It was the same sentiment she had expressed earlier that day on the telephone, when he called asking for an interview.

A tea tray was set out on the coffee table. "Just help yourself," Julia invited.Scott poured himself a cup of tea. "I know how difficult this must be for youÖ"

"Not at all, we welcome any publicity we can get," Julia interjected. "Itís the only way to speed up Martinís return."

Scott went over all the old ground with them carefully. Martin had left for school as usual on that ill-fated day that was destined to become the worst one in their lives. He was a good boy, quiet and obliging, and he loved to read. "I keep his room much as he left it. Would you like to see it, Scott?"

It was a bright room, with pictures of Martinís favourite pop singers and sports personalities smiling down from the walls. A large volume of pressed leaves and flowers sat on the desk by the window.

"Martin had a keen interest in botany." Everettís face was inscrutable in the gathering dusk.

"And in stamp collecting." Julia indicated a leather-bound album on top of a bureau.

Several gilt-framed photographs of Martin sat on top of the dresser. His narrow face and rather anxious eyes gazed into a camera lens of many years ago.

"Would you like one?" Julia asked. "A different shot of Martin, one that has never been published before would be a nice addition to your article."

"Thanks." Scott took the photograph and then turned his attention to a group shot. There was Martin, of course, and both his parents gathered round a picnic table under a massive horse-chestnut tree. But also in the picture were another couple with a little boy of about four-years-old.

"Thatís my sister Beth, her husband Lance Turpin and their son Jason," Julia explained. "They live just over here on Bewicke Avenue."

Scott made a mental note to make Bethís place his next stop.

"The problem is," Julia stated wistfully. "The press has lost interest over the years. Thatís why we were so delighted when you called."

Scott nodded. "There has to be some new development in an old unsolved case, to rekindle the mediaís interest."

The Turpinís lived in a whitewashed house with wainscoting and gables. A carousel horse dominated the dark inner hallway.

"Heís the namesake for our business," Beth said, on noticing Scottís interest. "Carousel Dry-Cleaning on Cordova Street."

"Oh, of course." He smiled, remembering how a similar horse stood in the front window of the store.

He joined Beth and Lance at the kitchen table. He asked them how Martinís disappearance had affected their lives.

"It devastated us," Beth answered for both of them. Her pale face was almost a mirror version of Juliaís, although she was much shorter in height than her older sister and had a slighter build. "Itís hard to pick up the pieces after something like thatÖ"

"This has been one helluva thing for the family." Lance was a beefy looking man, with mournful eyes. "And even although poor Julia would never agree, thereís no way it can have a happy ending. Not now, after so many years."

"I agree, of course." Bethís eyes grew misty with tears.

As he sipped on a cup of bitter coffee, Scott learned how Martin used to stop by for a visit on his way home from school. "Not every day," explained Beth. "And he didnít that day, of course...I often think that if only he had of doneÖ"

Their son Jason came in just as Scott was taking his leave, a husky youth with a tense expression, he bore a strong resemblance to his long missing cousin. "You wonder how someone can just disappear like that?" he said. "In the middle of the afternoonÖ" Then he shrugged and hared upstairs as if demons were in hot pursuit.

Scott lived in a small apartment overlooking Vancouver harbour with a veritable forest of houseplants and a large striped tomcat named Flynn.

"So what do you think happened to Martin Perry?" he asked the cat. It had been a particularly frustrating day. And Scott decided, given the facts of the case, the UFO theory looked less outrageous all the time.

The Gun from Stanley Park boomed out across the city marking the relentless passage of time. It was nine oíclock.

"Well thereís not a whole helluva lot to go on," Ben had declared earlier. The newsroom was deserted save for a lone cleaner in the far corner. "By all accounts the Perrys were the ideal family and Martin a happy well-adjusted boy."

Scott slammed the window shut against the clamour of foghorns. He ruffled his fair hair with restless hands and lamented the story would not be run because he had been unable to come up with anything new.

He was, therefore, both surprised and delighted when Julia Perry telephoned him, her voice tense with excitement. "Up until now itís been assumed that Art Lisle, at the corner store, was the last person to see Martin on the day he disappeared." she stated without preamble. "However, that has now changed."

"Oh really?"

"Someone has just come forward-a very reliable eye-witness-who actually saw Martin at around six p.m. that day."