I believe this was meant to be the fifteenth book in the series, and even though I didn't know it at the time, in the timeline as I've currently written it it's supposed to introduce the important Scorpio character Andrew "Shrine" Knight, a sort of hitman for Scorpio with multiple personalities. I think this story also introduced Matthew "Puck" Benteen, who was meant to be one of the "Zodiac Killer's" victims but luckily escaped. Lastly, I seem to recall that, like the real Zodiac Killer who has NOTHING to do with this story (my Zodiac was going to try to kill one person for each of the zodiac signs), my Zodiac Killer was not going to be caught or even found out. This story was a sort of "mini departure" from the main storyline in that it didn't focus on Scorpio or Satanism, and I'm pretty sure Dami and company were going to be rather confused by that.
Might I add that this story is meant to take place in 1994-5, right between Luther and Minot--in the space of time between when Luther had escaped and gone back to Scorpio, and when Dami and company faced off against Four P in the latest completed novel in the series.
This is typed up from a DOS-Shell version after our old Tandy crashed (meaning--no formatting and possible retyping typos), a file called "zodiac.wps," so it likely dates to between 1995-1997 or so.
Prologue, Chapter 1
JEFFREY NEVER KNEW WHAT HIT HIM.
It was a late Friday night in the fall. There was a party being held at one of the teenager's [sic] houses since the adults were out, and from the sheltering darkness of the woods could be seen the house, its windows lit, the faint sound of rock 'n' roll blaring from within. [Note--due to cutoff on the right edge of the page I'm not sure if that's "sound" or "sounds."] Once in a while there was a laugh as a teenager or two would come out the door to go to their car and either leave or go back in. A figure was concealed in the gloominess, intently watching the party's progress. If anyone had been looking they would have seen the silvery glint of sharpened metal in the moonlight; however, all the students were too busy having fun to take notice of such things. After a while it was discovered that they were out of beer (they knew they shouldn't have been drinking, but since the adults were gone...), so Jeffrey was asked to go out to the van and get some. He laughingly obliged, and went outside into the dark stillness.
The van loomed several yards away, a seemingly safe distance from the house; of course Jeffrey wasn't suspecting any danger, since there was nothing to be afraid of, except for the adults coming home early, and what a mess that would be!; so he hummed a tune under his breath as he searched for the right key, fumbling a little as his head spun and he stumbled with a stifled giggle.
The shadow hovering behind the trees moved slightly. Jeffrey noticed, and turned to look.
"Anybody out there?" he called, then laughed.
There was no response.
"Didn't think so," Jeffrey replied to himself, and continued what he was doing. As luck would have it he dropped the keys, which somehow fell under the van. He cursed under his breath and stooped down to retrieve them.
With astonishing swiftness, the shadow removed itself from the surrounding darkness and in what seemed to be a single movement clasped its hand over Jeffrey's mouth, pulled him back, and drew the knife across his throat. The student let out a sort of garbled sound of surprise before falling limp and collapsing on the ground. The figure stared down at him for a moment, then dashed quickly off into the woods. [Note--what a wussy-sounding killer!]
It was about a half hour later when someone finally thought to look outside for him, and instead discovered his body, with his throat slit.
"Car 17, do you copy?"
The tired trooper picked up the mike and spoke into it. "Car 17, I copy." [Note--I have NO understanding whatsoever of how cops talk on their radios, so...]
"Be on the lookout for an escaped convict, Car 17, in the area of--"
Trooper Delaney sighed. Of course it would be his beat. But then again, so near to Detroit, things like this were bound to happen. "Description?" he queried.
"Fugitive is in early twenties, height approximately five-foot-eleven or six feet, weight approximately 180, blond hair, blue eyes, still wearing prison outfit. [Note--he's taller than this, and probably doesn't weigh that much.] Is believed to be headed upstate."
"Name of convict?"
"Fugitive's name is Broderick, Luther."
At that moment everything for Trooper Delaney faded from existence. He could very well have gone off the road without noticing anything wrong. The voice from the car radio called him, then again, and again. "Car 17? Do you copy? Trooper Delaney? I repeat, do you copy?"
"Lord God protect us," Trooper Delaney whispered into the darkness. [Note--*gags on the melodrama*]
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