Patti Nase Abbott is one of those authors who deserves more attention. She’s earned respect from her peers for short stories like this one published in All Due Respect. Much like Margaret Millar, Dorothy B. Hughes, or her own daughter, Megan Abbott, she has an ability to draw mood from character. Hopefully, she’ll be better known after her book, Concrete Angel, is released next year. In the mean time, be sure to check out her blog.
“She saw kids like him every day since the café sat only a block from the juvie court. But this one—hunched in the doorway at seven a.m.—looked a bit older. More worn down than the usual teenager. Skeletal and dirty, like he hadn’t had a shower or even a basin to wash in for days. Smelled, too. Not outrageous, but damn ripe. He’d probably spent the night in one of the stairwells that snaked through the development. With the recent cutbacks, Tucson cops had better things to do than chase down vagrants.…”