The Unpublished Fiction series highlights outstanding, well-performing fiction manuscripts on The Black List.
You can explore our Unpublished Fiction Series archive here — we’ve shared excerpts of manuscripts in many genres, so there is something for every reader.
Our hope is to raise visibility for book industry agents and editors looking for the next project to consider for representation or acquisition.
Enjoy the excerpt and read the full manuscript for THE SIREN OF WITCHES COVE on blcklst.com.
Chapter One
Detective Izzy Harper, September 2025
News of the body found at Witches Cove traveled fast — as news tends to do in Marrow’s End. Used to be you’d have a few hours before the public got word of something, but not so much anymore with social media, and especially not during the tourist season. Starting in August and ending the day after Halloween, the entirety of the town seems to be awake and paying attention.
Good for tips. Not so much for discretion.
Before I was even at my desk, I had my mom sending me Facebook links from her community group about the death. Usually kept busy by the kind of white noise that permeates through any small town — the openings and closings of restaurants, the DUIs of civil servants, the books unfairly banned at the local middle school — they were newly invigorated by the news of a potential murder. It was all hands-on deck for the town’s vigilant stay at home moms and eternally online teens, both excited by a break in the monotony of small-town life. This was their Super Bowl.
Do they know anything?
Should I keep my girls home from school?
I heard it was one of the Wiccans that hang around down there.
Was it the Avery girl?
Miraculously for a Facebook comment, they were right. It actually was the Avery girl. Of course, I couldn’t tell my mom that before the department announced it. Her group’s thirst for news would have to remain unsatiated for the time being.
“Detective Harper. My office. Now.”
My chief caught me right as I stepped through the squad bay’s door. I was early for my shift by at least an hour, but his tone made me feel tardy. The room was mostly empty, being that it was the no man’s land between night and day shift.
I looked for Detective Baker, who was on call the previous night. When I didn’t see him, I figured he was probably already at the scene.
Chief Carl Brennan’s office smelled like burnt coffee and the kind of stress that seeps into furniture over decades. He was already at his desk, tie loosened, mop of gray hair a mess and looking like he’d been there since before dawn. He probably had been.
“Shut the door,” he said, not looking up from whatever report he was reading.
I did, then took the chair across from him. Through the window behind his head, I could see the parking lot filling up with press vans with satellite dishes, locals who’d somehow convinced themselves they had information worth sharing, and at least one person holding what looked like ghost hunting equipment.
“How was vacation?” He asked, not meaning it
“Happy to be back,” I said, meaning it even less.
“I’m sure you saw in the field reports from this morning what we’re dealing with.”
“I did.”
“Madison Avery,” Brennan said, finally meeting my eyes. “Nineteen years old. UMass student home for the weekend. Parents reported her missing last night when she didn’t come home from work. We found her at four-thirty this morning lying on the beach at Witches Cove.”
I took my notebook out. “Who found her?”
“Two men fishing.”
“Not a great spot this time a year. Sure they were fishing?”
Brennan handed me the file. “That’s for you to reconcile.”
I stared at the bundle of papers in my hand. “I’m lead on this?”
Brennan nodded. “Detective Baker resigned this morning.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Wish I was.”
Frank Baker was the head Detective in Marrow’s End. Really, he was the only Detective for as long as I was on the force. There were some uniforms that would help with more complicated cases, and there was always the odd file that required a state investigator. But aside from the outliers, Baker was the one that solved what needed to be solved in Marrow’s End. That was until I got promoted to help share some of that burden the year before. Not that we were particularly busy most of the year.
A million questions flew through my mind. “Why?” I asked. All I could muster.
Read the full manuscript for THE SIREN OF WITCHES COVE, only on blcklst.com.
Gregory Golbitz is a writer and legal professional from Philadelphia. You can find him on instagram @gregory.golbitz.
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