While my editor, Gari Strawn, works on the final edit of Where the Night Takes Us, I am working on the second draft of the sequel, When the Night Takes Us, a psychological thriller.
Forensic psychiatrist Simon Fethullah used to work with the FBI. Retired, he’s tracking down the cold case of a missing girl in Texas. He owns a huge RV, but due to his medical condition, he’s had to hire a driver. The driver’s name is Paloma.
Here’s a little excerpt:
I sighed and reviewed the pictures Willy had posted. “I want to believe she’s not down in the dark. The City of the Dead swallows the lost and waits for us all.”
Paloma shot me a quizzical look. “I’ve been to the City of the Dead. Took a tour while on leave once.”
My head came up as if I were awakening from a dream. “Huh?”
“The City of the Dead is Cairo,” Paloma said. “You know, Egypt! What are you babbling about?”
“I wasn’t babbling. I am musing pensively. And no, I don’t think Willy had the resources to make it to Egypt. Sorry. My inner monologue leaked into my outer monologue.”
“Well, rein that shit in, boss. You sound crazy.”
It’s more than merely sounding crazy, I thought.
I will be posting a pre-order link in the near future. Sign up to the newsletter or subscribe to this blog for details and news as all is unleashed. 🙂
A while back, I reevaluated the business side of my publishing experience. For most of my backlist, Amazon was no longer delivering. There are many variables to what makes books hit or miss. I’ve gone into detail about that before, so I won’t belabor that again here.
So I made a move, quite literally.
Most of my books are no longer exclusive to Amazon. You’ll still find them on Amazon, but you’ll also find them on book sales platforms across the planet. Think library services like Overdrive, and publishing platforms such as Kobo, Tolino, Barnes & Noble, and Gardners.
I have also added Vengeance Is Hers to a newish sales platform I’d only discovered recently. Laterpress is one way authors can sell their work directly. Check out Vengeance Is Hers on Laterpress here.
Vengeance Is Hers (and many more can be found on these services.)
Screenshothttp://ow.ly/1KcI50BVp04This was not supposed to be a prediction or a prescriptioon.
I have a cover and back jacket copy (below). The manuscript is in the editorial pipeline. Things progress!
Dr. Simon Fethullah’s weapon was his mind. It is also his torment.
As a forensic psychiatrist working with the FBI, Simons’ testimony helped to convict the Rainy Day Cannibal. After taking a bullet for his trouble, Simon retreats to the wilds of Montana to hide and to heal with his loving wife Carla and Stefano, their massive dog. Simon seeks peace, but murderers have long memories. When the President’s Press Secretary is assassinated, a serial killer’s dreams become our nightmares.
Though caged, prison walls cannot contain Rainy Day’s ambitions. The madman has a loyal following and a vendetta that demands a terrible price. When threatening postcards find their way to Simon’s door, it’s clear that dangerous people know how to find the good doctor, and they are coming for blood.
~ If you’re new here, I’m Robert Chazz Chute, an introverted author pretending to be an extrovert. I write apocalyptic epics and killer crime thrillers. My next series follows the adventures and misadventures of a brilliant forensic psychiatrist who is haunted, but not in a supernatural way. Think Dr. Gregory House of House MD (but with a big Cane Corso, a gun, and a love for murderous puzzles).
In my upcoming novel, our protagonist is Dr. Simon Fethullah, a forensic psychiatrist who worked for the FBI. Shot on the job, he retires to the wilds of Montana with his wife Carla and his faithful dog, Stefano.
Simon helped put the Rainy Day Cannibal away, but the serial killer has disciples. Though behind prison walls, the killer’s reach can still find Simon. Add in a dead presidential press secretary and a kidnapped girl. Now you’ve got Where The Night Takes Us, a rocking psychological thriller that plays with the blurred limits of time and memory. (The query is on submission to agents.)
A Brief Excerpt from my Next Crime Thriller
To deal with what his wife calls his post-apocalyptic stress disorder, Simon takes his therapist’s advice. After a dark realization, he makes the following notes on his phone.
How to Slow Time’s March and Live Longer and Better
1. Eat healthier and in reasonable portions.
2. Move more and lift weights.
3. Prove Denise wrong by enjoying rural life.
4. Play with my dog more.
5. Watch less social media and talk to Carla more.
6. Be more social. (Be real. I won’t do that.)
7. Read more books. Maybe write another book.
8. Do not shoot self in head.
9. Shoot someone else in the head when they come for us.
In my neighborhood, there is a cursed place. Today, that location is a new sushi restaurant. Before that? A Burger Factory. Before that? A forgotten string of failures. A new renter arrives with fresh ideas and colossal hope. After a year or two, another restaurateur takes up the challenge and shoulders the curse. Why anyone invests all their life savings in a restaurant is a mystery to most. To anyone who does not share the dream of making unappreciated food for an oblivious public, it is madness.
I would never invest in a restaurant, but I understand the passion for the risk.
Some clods don’t think writing a book is “real work.” They devalue the effort and call it a hobby. Some even want it all for free. It’s just typing, after all, right? Hell, in weak and depressed moments, I’ve called it an expensive hobby! When a reviewer says, “I don’t understand why this book isn’t a bestseller,” all I can say is, “Me, neither, man.”
And how many people really have the time, energy, and attention span to read anymore? Is this really a job or a fairly pointless compulsion? What kind of fool wasted months or years to compose a novel?
Here, I raise my hand. I’m that kind of fool. I don’t know if my next book will be a smash hit, but I enter into every story with that same hope. It’s madness, really.
A peek into how my workday began
After only a few hours of sleep, I think I woke up around 3:30 a.m. I lay in bed with wild thoughts about Where The Night Takes Us. The manuscript needed an extra kick to get the grand seduction going. It’s a dance to draw readers in, and the steps were not quite right yet. I deleted a chapter yesterday to speed up the pacing. I added something crucial to the beginning yesterday, too. Satisfaction eluded me. What else would make the recipe sweeter?
Gave up on sleep at 4 a.m.
The nagging sense that I’d lose some sugar made me crawl out of bed and to my laptop. More words, particular and well-chosen, had to get written before I could lose the thread. I had to sew some seams and make the presentation more appetizing. Perfection is always out of reach, but at least I can make it more right.
Officially, Where The Night Takes Us will be my thirtieth novel. I’ve been here before. The energy behind the compulsion to get it published is always the same. Years ago, a novelist’s house caught fire. He braved the flames to reenter the burning building to save his manuscript. I get it, but it’s madness, isn’t it?
Anyway, I caught the words before they could slip away. If this is a curse, I must enjoy it. When the manuscript is fully baked and out of the oven, I hope you’ll enjoy my madness.
It is now 5:15 a.m., and my brain is buzzing. I may as well stay up and keep cooking. Somewhere out there, I have to believe hungry readers are waiting for my next concoction.
Fishing boats that could never make it to the United States from Venezuela are blown up. The killers don’t even know who they killed. Outlandish claims are used to justify colonialism and tyranny. Old allies are threatened while old enemies are embraced. People who seemed smart are working toward a future that values AI over human beings. Dumb and bigoted monsters spew hate-filled sophistry. Christian identity is placed above actual Christian values. Journalists who don’t ask follow-up questions become abused stenographers. Upholding the law is only for the lowly. Judgment is left to future historians instead of the courts. Dangerous users are protected by the powerful, and the helpless have no voice. A buffoonish conman with dementia has the nuclear codes.
This is not a complete list.
Q: What will 2026 bring?
Ar: More of the same.
Q: What can we do?
A: Hold on.
The same hate that brought the haters together will tear them apart. Their incompetence is the root of their failure. As the former cult members are betrayed by their champion’s false promises, they will peel off. Whistleblowers will find their breath. Former true believers will discover they have a spine after all. Eventually, many who voted for him will pretend they’ve never heard the name. When he comes up, they’ll look away and try to shift the conversation to anything else.
One day, we’ll look back and ask, “Why didn’t we have to wait for them to implode? Why didn’t the courts stop him? Why didn’t everyone laugh in his face? Where were you when the veil fell from everyone’s eyes? Why were you so quiet?”
About Me
I write fiction. I don’t like bullies. I trust science and distrust authority. I try to keep my worries to the things I can control. I escape into fiction by reading it and writing it.
About You
If you don’t agree, you won’t like my work, and we definitely should not be friends. Until you have your road to Damascus moment, that’s the way it is.
If you are a reader who feels as I do, we should be friends, and you’re going to love my books.
~ I am Robert Chazz Chute, the winner of fifteen writing awards. I pen crime stories, psychological thrillers, and apocalyptic epics, and I remain defiant.
Chute’s thought-provoking crime thriller tells the story of Molly Jergins, a bright, restless teenager who grows up in the small town of Poeticule Bay, Maine, a tight-knit, picturesque village floundering and long dominated by a single powerful family. When Keith Faun, the town’s hockey star and the son of its most influential businessman, brutally assaults a younger boy and escapes punishment, Molly finds herself consumed with revenge fantasies. Her petty pranks soon escalate into a campaign to drive the Fauns out of town: she sabotages their family business and publicly damages their credibility, with each act calculated to chip away not only at their sense of untouchability but also the broader community that enables it.
At its core, this novel is an exploration of the insular dynamics unique to small towns—blind loyalty to old families, unthinking hostility toward outsiders, and reflexive protection afforded to their golden boys. What stands out most are not the creative revenge sequences but the way cruelty is normalized: a principal who dismisses violence, a sheriff more concerned with reelection than law enforcement, neighbors who carry on like it’s business as usual. Here, Chute (author of Endemic) pushes readers to consider whether such institutions can really be trusted with justice—or if it falls to individuals to enforce it.
This ethical dilemma is embodied most clearly in Molly herself. While she obviously cares about fairness, her obsessive tendencies leave readers questioning whether she is driven by justice or simply by her power to deliver it. The story’s pace sometimes falters under the sheer number of revenge plots, with these convoluted sequences limiting Molly’s character development—but she remains a complex, morally gray protagonist who readers will want to follow, if only to see how far she will go. Overall, those who are drawn to dark small-town noir will enjoy the clarity with which this gripping tale examines power and complicity.
Takeaway: Dark small-town thriller examining the blurred line between justice and obsession.
