The Night Caller 

85,000 word Time Travel Romance

2008 1st place-Great Expectations Contest

After a botched robbery, hostage negotiator Evan Roth takes an extended leave of absence--a self-imposed exile--to come to terms with the loss of fourteen lives he tried to protect.  He finds refuge in restoring a nineteenth century home his grandfather left him.  A call late one night from a mysterious woman through the dusty shell of an antique crank phone leads him on a journey back in time and through the deep recesses of his own fears.  Can he find the connection to his future in the shameful secrets of the woman's past before her deadly fate becomes his own?

Excerpt:

Seize the day, my ass.

Carpe diem, literally translated:  pluck.    Which is exactly how Evan Roth would describe his morning ritual of staring out his peephole at the Silver Creek Gazette.  Pluck the sweat stinging my eyes.  Pluck the world breathing on me, disguised as a door draft.  Pluck off. 

His gaze marked imaginary ticks, every anticipated step to retrieve the paper.  Back and thigh muscles protested his stooped pose.  Whoever drilled the peephole must have been an emasculated laughing stock in his century. 

He rested his forehead against the door.  The sawing between his temples eased.  Air invaded his lungs but never reached his core.  Eyes closed, he tried to block the inevitable image of Mrs. Ramirez in curlers bent over to pluck a dandelion from her sidewalk crack at sunrise.  At four-thirty am—tactically, the best hour to avoid pleasantries he had no interest in—he had to seize the moment.

Hand poised on the door handle, he breathed through the anchor on his chest. 

“You used to face down drug dealers, for Christ’s sake—two guns, one deciding bullet.  Get the paper, you bastard.”

He eased open the door.  Night air spilled over his bare toes like glacial water to an arid land.  A diesel rumbled up the street, its tires crashing against the uneven brick road.  Two white beams engulfed every west-facing surface. 

In the crescendo of engine and muffler and axles, Evan’s thumb slipped from the doorknob’s brass pad.  He slammed the door. 

The delivery truck retreated; its dark assault gave way to silence. 

In renewed breath, his mind tainted with self-disgust, he hatched a plan.