What's Behind the Door?
The Sean Coleman scene I hear about the most.
The other day I received an email from a reader who had just started on my Sean Coleman Thriller series. 20 chapters into From a Dead Sleep, he felt compelled to reach out to me about the scene he had just read, and how intense he found it.
I always enjoy hearing from readers, and that particular scene, which takes place at Sean’s home, sticks out to a lot of them.
I think part of the reason is that it involves two of the series’ most beloved characters: Toby Parker, the good-natured, 13-year-old autistic boy who idolizes Sean (and is pet-setting for him while he’s away), and Zed, Sean’s charming, cowboy-hat-wearing uncle (whose instincts tell him something’s very wrong with the situation he’s stumbled across).
It’s probably the grittiest, most shocking scene in the book, and I remember, as I was about to write it many years ago, how important I felt the build-up needed to be. By the time Zed pulls up to Sean’s home, the reader knows exactly the predicament Toby is in. In fact, at one of the first book-club meetings I went to long ago (shortly after the release of the novel), a reader with an autistic son told me that she was a crying mess at that point, because she kept envisioning her son in that situation, through Toby’s eyes.
It was type of emotional investment and immersion us fiction writers dream of pulling out of readers… though I did feel a little bad for making the nice lady cry.
If there’s ever a screen adaptation of the Sean Coleman saga (which isn’t out of the realm of possibility), I’d love to see how a director approaches the scene.
Having recently had reason to revisit the chapter in literary form, I figured I’d exercise a little author's prerogative, and share it with you all — the build-up, not the culmination; I don’t want to give too much away.
Enjoy.
Zed tipped his hat and let the smooth roar of the truck engine and the smell of wet dirt flutter their way in through the open windows as he wound his way on up the road. He dug into his front shirt pocket and pulled a fresh toothpick from an open, plastic prescription bottle nested there. He quickly slid it between two teeth along his upper jaw. The founding owner of Hansen Security had been addicted to toothpicks since giving up a decades-long smoking habit a few years earlier. It felt naked not to have something dangling from his mouth, and he liked the natural taste of wood.
Sean’s car wasn’t parked out front at his house, which surprised Zed as he pulled up to the front steps. His nephew wasn’t known to be an early riser or even a mid-morning riser. He was equally surprised to see Toby Parker’s bike out front. He killed the engine. It rumbled for a few extra seconds before winding down. Stepping out and shutting the door, he raised his arms above his head, clasped his fingers together, and arched his back. A muffled, satisfying pop could be heard from just above his hips. His joints often got tight from the weather.
He happened to glance farther up the road where the path deadended into the forest. There was a dark gray, late ’90s Buick sedan parked just behind a cluster of trees. He nearly didn’t notice it, but the reflective chrome on the front bumper stuck out a few inches. He didn’t recognize the car. It wasn’t the kind one would typically see in Winston. It was then that he noticed the out-of-state license plate. The car was too far away to tell from where, but the colors didn’t match any of the Colorado state–sanctioned ones—of that he was sure.
He raised his hat just long enough to wipe some stray beads of rain off his forehead with the arm of his long-sleeved, collared shirt. He proceeded on up the porch steps.
No one answered after the first set of knocks, so Zed tried again. He was sure he could hear movement from inside. “Sean? Toby?”
He walked down off the steps and over to the living room window to try peeking in through the curtains. Before he got there, however, he heard the creak of the front door and the cry of dry hinges. His head snapped back and he saw the door slowly opening. It stopped about a foot open and Toby’s large head popped through.
“Toby!” Zed shouted in greeting with a large grin on his face. “How the hell are you?”
“Good,” the boy replied almost before Zed had even finished his question. “Sean isn’t here.”
The boy didn’t look well. His face was red and wet with perspiration. When Zed walked up the front steps and back onto the small porch, he thought it odd that Toby didn’t open the door any wider, as if he was concealing something. He also noticed that the boy was out of breath.
“What’s that ornery nephew of mine up to this morning?”
Toby quietly explained that Sean had left town for a few days and that he’d been asked to look after Rocco. This was news to Zed.
“He didn’t tell you where he went?” Zed asked with narrowed eyes.
“No, sir.”
Zed crossed his arms in front of him and nodded. He couldn’t imagine where his nephew would have headed. Sean didn’t take trips and had few if any friends outside of Winston to visit. “Well, I’ve got a job for him in a couple of days,” he said. “He knows about it. I suspect that he’ll be back before then. He’s going to need this.”
He dug into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a silver badge—a brand new one that read “Hansen Security.” He held it up for Toby, who surprisingly seemed to take no interest in it. The boy didn’t even glance down. His eyes stayed on Zed’s like a hawk, nearly staring right through them.
“Are you feeling all right, bud?” asked Zed, lifting a brow.
Toby nodded and forced an awkward smile.
“Well, can you leave this for Sean?” Zed asked, holding out the badge for the boy to take.
Toby nodded again, his eyes still glued in place. He opened his hand and took the badge, but didn’t look at it.
Zed knew something was wrong. Toby had never acted like this. He was typically a fountain of cordiality who could spew out a conversation on practically any topic for minutes on end, all while wearing a smile on his face. With the boy’s head craned through the doorway and his suspicious behavior, it crossed Zed’s mind that the boy might have just broken something in Sean’s apartment and was too embarrassed or scared to let him find out about it. A plausible scenario for a boy his age, but it seemed unlikely. He’d always known Toby to be a straight shooter, even when the truth he told was inappropriate in the given setting. If he’d broken something, he’d speak up about it.
The boy cracked another dry smile and said nothing. He had something shiny and new in his hand—his hero’s badge of honor—and he wasn’t even looking at it. Zed had been in security for years. He had a trained eye and a deep instinct for things that were out of place and didn’t add up. A talent he hoped he had passed on to his nephew. Something was very wrong—he knew it.
The old floorboards inside Sean’s living room often creaked. They probably should have been replaced years ago. Any movement or shift of weight typically generated an audible groan. When those sounds echoed out at a moment Zed was sure Toby hadn’t moved a muscle, it grabbed his attention.
“What have you got planned for the day?” he asked calmly as his eyes traced the narrow gaps between the door’s hinges, suspecting that Toby wasn’t alone inside.
He saw nothing along the inner side of the door. Too dark. With Sean’s car gone and the display of genuine fear in Toby’s eyes, Zed was certain his nephew wasn’t the puppet-master. He subtly glanced back at the Buick. It was too well concealed by the trees to tell if anyone was sitting inside it, but his instincts told him there wasn’t.
Had Toby walked in on a burglary? he wondered. Someone who Sean owed money to, now coming to collect? Where’s Rocco? Why didn’t he bark when I knocked on the door?
He turned back to Toby when the boy didn’t answer his question. There was now pure, unmistakable panic in the boy’s face, as if his brain had already been overloaded and Zed’s last query finally froze it. The lack of response would surely not go unnoticed by whoever was on the other side of that door. Zed couldn’t recall a time when Toby had ever looked him straight in the eye, but he’d been doing just that from the moment he’d opened the door. Those eyes were pleading for help. No doubt about it now. There was someone standing on the other side of that door—someone dangerous. Zed sometimes carried a pistol in a holster along his hip, but not this day. He had the .45 caliber in his glove box, but at that moment it felt a mile away.
He almost mouthed the boy a message, but felt whoever was inside might see him through the darkened crack along the edge of the door. He kept his head level but his eyes dropped to the keyhole at the center of the doorknob. Scratch marks as if someone had jimmied it. Zed maintained a composed facial expression, even forming a grin as he nodded his head. One more glance back at the Buick before it was time to escalate things. His mouth formed a pucker before he shot the toothpick out of his mouth as if he was discharging a blowgun.
For those of you who’ve read the book, even if it was a long time ago, I’m thinking you still remember what happens next. For those who haven’t, what the heck have you been waiting for? 😉
The Hullabaloo
On this week’s Daly Express podcast, I talked to Lisa Clonch Tschauner, author of “Reclamation,” a gripping novel based on the very real international crime of human sex trafficking.
Here’s a preview:
You can watch the full video versions on BernardGoldberg.com, or listen to the full audio podcasts on Spotify or Apple Podcasts.
Be Prepared for the Holidays
I'm often asked, "John, what's the perfect gift for a beloved friend or family member?"
And I say, "I think we both know the answer. It's a signed, personalized copy of one of my Sean Coleman Thrillers."
Fortunately, they're available through my website.
Random Thought
Obligatory Dog Shot
Our best shopping dog.
Featured Vinyl
This was a heck of a find from a few weeks ago. “How Could Hell Be Any Worse?” is Bad Religion’s debut album from way back in 1982. It’s got a raw and gritty garage sound, and was of course the beginning of a long, successful road for the iconic punk band.
That’s all for now. Thanks for reading today’s Daly Grind.
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Also, if you’re not caught up on my Sean Coleman Thrillers, you can pick the entire series up at a great price on Amazon. And if you’re interested in signed, personalized copies of my books, you can order them directly from my website.
Take care. And I’ll talk to you soon!