Her Silent Shadow: A Gripping Psychological Suspense Collection

by Edwin Dasso

  “It was my fault she was killed...” He looked away. “I should have done something different…something that would have kept her out of harm’s way.” A lot of good it does Lori to say that now, Bass. She’s dead.

  Stone slid forward, perching on the edge of his chair, regarding Jack intently. “I understand how you could feel you were responsible for her death…but it’s not like you killed her.”

  Jack nibbled at his lower lip and laced his fingers together. “I suppose that’s true…it’s just hard to convince myself of that.”

  “And from what I’ve read in your medical records, I’m guessing this is the event that started your PTSD?”

  Jack nodded absently. “Yes…I suppose so…”

  “And the episodes got pretty bad at times?”

  Jack snorted. “Yeah. You might say that.” He shot a quick glance at Stone. “I’ve…I’ve done things sometimes, during flashbacks, that I wasn’t even aware I’d done. Bad things.” Jack stretched his arms over his head, sneaking a quick glance at Stone. “Hell, I was actually accused of a gruesome murder once…because of that, uh…tendency.”

  “You’ll have to tell me more about that in the future. Is there anything that happens during these flashbacks that you do remember?”

  Jack looked up at the ceiling and rubbed his chin. “I vaguely recall seeing faces superimposed on other people’s faces. I-I remember struggling to know who the person in front of me really was.” He let his shoulders sag. “That, uh, sometimes led to…bad outcomes.” Jack sat silently, staring straight ahead.

  “Take your time, Jack. Tell me more when you’re ready.”

  Jack nodded slowly then raised the water bottle to his lips and drained it, the cool water soothing his parched mouth and throat. He looked up at Stone. “Crazy, eh?”

  Stone arched an eyebrow. “Only in your mind, Jack.”

  8

  Jack slouched in the recliner in his living room. The flashbacks and nightmares had continued—had even gotten worse, despite his regular visits to Stone and the cognitive behavioral therapy, or CBT, Jack practiced. The nightmares, in particular, were more vivid than ever. Jack had no desire to go back to that dark place in his head, so he’d developed an almost fanatical approach to doing what he could to manage the episodes.

  His eyes were closed as he practiced a relaxation technique, breathing in slow and deep then releasing each breath deliberately. He focused on the cool air flowing through his nostrils as he inhaled then relaxed his muscles as he exhaled. After a short time, he smiled, the tension slowly draining from his muscles.

  Yeah. That’s better.

  Though pleased with the immediate results of the technique, he wished the effects carried on all day…and into the night. He sucked in another long breath, interrupted when his cellphone vibrated in his pocket. Damn it! Not now! He’d never been one for always having his phone on his person, but since Amanda had gone off to college, he’d given in to the habit. The phone vibrated again, and his sense of calm evaporated. Dammit!

  He rolled to his side and fumbled to dig the phone from his pocket.

  “This had better not be a spam text!” he growled. He yanked the phone free and held it in front of his face, scowling at the screen. He didn’t recognize the number. “Damn spam! These clowns are going to get a piece of my mind! Maybe then they’ll take me off their call list.”

  He opened the text, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at it.

  “No-o-o!”

  The sound of Jack yelling brought Hank bolting upright in his desk. He jumped from his seat and spun toward the door. Jack yelled again. Holy crap! He sounds like one of my buddies who just took a bullet in battle.

  “Shit! What the hell is going on?” Hank raced down the hall toward the living room.

  “I’m so sorry, Lori—I-I didn’t mean to…” Jack muttered.

  Hank skidded to a halt next to Jack and shook his shoulder; his body trembled under Hank’s hand. Jeez! He looks like he’s seen a ghost!

  “Jack! What is it? What’s wrong!”

  Jack was panting as he held up his phone and pointed at it then tossed it across the room.

  “No! No! That’s not how it happened!”

  He clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

  Hank hadn’t been able to see Jack’s phone screen…but that didn’t matter. Whatever was on it had upset him tremendously.

  “Relax, old buddy. Take some deep breaths.” Hank shot a glance at the phone where it lay on the carpet then looked back at Jack’s face, which was twisted in anguish. “What’d you get that’s got you so worked up? I haven’t seen you like this in years.”

  Hank hurried over to Jack’s phone and snatched it off the floor, turning it to view the screen. Hie eyebrows shot up.

  “What the f—!” He shot a quick glance at Jack. “Who sent this to you?” Hank growled.

  Jack shrugged and rocked his head in his hands.

  Hank looked at the phone, squinting at the newspaper obituary that appeared on the screen. A full-color picture of Lori’s face, showing the red dot of a bullet hole in her forehead, her skin a mottled bluish-gray hue.

  “This can’t be real. They’d never put a picture like this in an obituary.”

  “That’s not all. Read it.”

  Hank enlarged the print on the screen, straining to read the short article.

  “Jack Bass, an Army doctor, was found by an Army investigation to be responsible for the killing of Major Lori Darden, RN,” Hank mumbled, shaking his head as he read. He dropped the phone as if it had scorched his hands then snapped his head around toward Jack. “Ohhh…that’s not good. No wonder you’re so worked up.”

  Jack slowly raised his head from his hands, staring at Hank with bloodshot eyes. “It didn’t happen that way, Hank.” He dropped his chin onto his chest and shook his head slowly. “It just didn’t…”

  Hank clenched his jaw and balled his hands into fists, his face flushing hot. Who’s the sorry bastard preying on Jack now? He bent and snatched up the phone again. Time to find out and put an end to this shit…quickly!

  9

  Amanda sat on a bench on the sprawling grass piazza running between the main campus buildings, watching a few people meandering here and there. The sun was warm on her face. That feels good. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes as a slight breeze rustled the leaves of the trees lining the many walkways. Her phone jingled. Dammit! Who has such bad timing? She glanced at the screen and saw Hank was calling.

  “Hi, Hank.”

  “Hi, Amanda. I need to tell you something…about your dad.”

  She sucked in a breath and jumped off the bench, squeezing her fingers tightly around her phone. She pressed it firmly against her ear. “What?”

  “H-he got a text…like the one you got of your mom.”

  “Sonofabitch!”

  “A-and…his nightmares have started again.” He was silent a few seconds. “I-I haven’t seen him like this for a long time. I think these things are triggering his flashbacks again, too.”

  “Crap! Should I come home?”

  “No! You stay there. It’s safer for you.”

  “I don’t know, Hank…”

  “No debate—do as I say on this one…please.” He paused a moment. “By the way, have you gotten any more messages?”

  “No…not since I got the new number.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m sure it’s some sick bastard from Dad’s past—someone who’s trying to get back at him.” She snorted and pressed a palm against her forehead. “For what, I can’t even begin to guess.” When are these jackasses ever going to leave Dad alone?

  “Hard to tell with all the nutcases Jack has crossed paths with.” Hank blew out a sigh.

  “Well, these clowns are not going to control me—I won’t give them that power.”

  “Damn straight, girl! You’re a strong woman, Amanda—a strong person. No wonder your dad is so proud of y
ou.”

  Amanda plopped down on the bench and rested her head on her hand. “Why did he even look at it?” she asked. She leaned back against the tree behind the concrete bench, squirming to find a spot where the rough bark didn’t dig into her skin. “He should have known better.”

  “Cut him some slack, Amanda. Jeez! How would he know not to?” Hank grunted. “After all, you were surprised, too, by the one you got.”

  Her face flushed. Hank was right. She rolled her head around slowly, working tightness out of the muscles in her neck. “I know, I know… I guess I meant to say I wish he wouldn’t have opened it.”

  “I’m sure he wishes the same thing! I told him the same thing I’m telling you right now—don’t open any more texts from numbers you don’t recognize! You control what you look at. Whoever is doing this can’t force you to look.”

  “Oh, trust me, Hank. I double delete any text from a number I don’t know!”

  “Good.”

  There was silence on the line for several seconds.

  “Now what?” Amanda asked.

  “You mean, what do we do now?”

  “Exactly! You know what these clowns are like—they’re not going to stop.”

  “No…they won’t.” Hank blew out a long breath. “I’ve already contacted Wes Watley. He said he’s got a new partner who’s a tech whiz. Said the guy might be able to help us trace the sender of these texts.”

  “Cool! When do we meet with them?”

  “We are not going to meet with them. I am.”

  “But, Hank, you don’t know squat about technology. You probably won’t understand what they’re telling you. Hell, you struggle with operating a smartphone.”

  Hank grunted. “Well…maybe…but I’ll figure it out.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “Language, girl! Language.”

  “Hank, listen to me. I won’t get involved in anything…physical. I’ll just function as a technology interpreter for you. C’mon—what can it hurt?”

  Hank snorted. “Ha! Famous last words when uttered by a Bass.”

  Hank fell silent for several seconds, and Amanda held her breath, praying he’d see things her way.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll set up a conference call, and you can participate, but only in the call—nothing more! Am I clear?”

  Amanda sat up on the bench, held the phone in front of her face, and shot an indignant glance at it. You’re not telling me what to do, Hank. This is my father we’re talking about. She pressed it back to her ear. “Whatever!”

  “Watch your tone, young lady,” Hank responded. “I’ll give you the details of the call when I get it set up. Now, get to class. Good-bye.”

  Two days later, Hank was on a call with Cameron Leonard, Wes Watley’s partner.

  “Nice to meet you, Cameron. Wes certainly had good things to say about you.”

  “Oh? That’s nice to hear.”

  “Remember the ground rule. When Amanda joins us, keep the discussion focused on technology stuff. Don’t hint at any actions or activities; that stuff’s my turf. I don’t want her getting any ideas.”

  “Um…okay. Whatever you say.”

  “Good. Let me get her on the line.” Hank hit a couple of buttons on his phone. “Amanda, you there?”

  “Yep.”

  “Cameron?”

  “Still here.”

  “Wow, Hank! You actually completed a three-way call without disconnecting anybody.” Amanda giggled.

  “Hey, how about showing some respect for your elders?” Hank replied.

  “Sure, you deserve it.” Amanda chuckled again.

  Hank cleared his throat. “Let’s get to the point of the call, shall we?”

  “Sounds good,” Cameron replied.

  “Cameron, you and I have spoken about these anonymous texts Amanda and Jack have gotten. What can they do about them?”

  “Unfortunately, not much. You probably can’t block them because it sounds like they’re all coming from different numbers. Probably burner phones.”

  “Burner phone?” Amanda asked.

  “A prepaid phone you can buy any number of places. There’s no account to be traced. People will buy them, use them once, then trash them.”

  “So…you can’t trace them?” Amanda asked.

  “Well, you can, but even if you find it, you likely won’t be able to trace it back to an individual…unless they were dumb enough to pay for it with a credit card.” He paused. “That has happened on occasion…but don’t count on it.”

  “Then, what am I supposed to do about them?” she asked.

  “If you get another one, try forwarding it to me. I’ll try to trace its source.”

  “You think you can do that?” Hank asked.

  “I don’t know,” Cameron responded. “Just don’t open any attachment—it may have an embedded virus that lets them control your phone.”

  “Jeez! I can’t believe what crooks can do with technology!” Hank said.

  “Hank, you’re such a dinosaur sometimes,” Amanda groaned.

  Cameron chuckled. “With enough money and expertise, pretty much anything can be done with technology. You wouldn’t believe what Wes and I discovered up in Vancouver not long ago.”

  “Great, just great,” Hank grumbled. Damn! As usual, this isn’t going to be simple.

  “Question is—is this just some individual nut job or someone who has money and resources?” Cameron asked.

  “What difference does that make?” Hank asked. “Either way, they’re a threat.”

  “Yes…but one could be a lot harder to neutralize than the other.”

  “You’re just full of good news, Cameron…”

  “Sorry, Hank, but facts are facts.”

  “Yeah…and that’s a fact I hate.”

  10

  Amanda startled when her phone dinged, announcing the arrival of a text. She rubbed at her eyes and fumbled to find the phone on her mattress in the dark. She wrapped her fingers around it, raised it to her face, and blinked at the harsh bright light as the screen lit up.

  “Who the hell’s texting me at”—she glanced at the time—“two-thirty in the morning!” She scrolled to her messages to see which of her friends she was going to give hell to. She sucked in a quick, deep breath and bolted upright. I don’t know this number. I wonder…

  She held her thumb poised for a full minute over the button to open the text. Should I? She drew a deep breath then let it leak out slowly through pursed lips, her heart thumping. She waited a couple of minutes. I can’t forward it to Cameron without opening it. She put her finger over the text, closed her eyes, and pressed on the text to open it. She opened one eye a slit, focusing on the icon to forward the text.

  Just before she hit the forward button, she caught a glimpse of the content. Before she could stop herself, she scanned part of the message. It was a short newspaper article. An Army investigation found U.S. Army Dr. Jack Bass responsible for the killing of Major Lori Darden, RN.

  “Dammit! It is from the same asshole as before! How did they get my new number?” she growled then stared at her phone. Should I? She reopened the text and read a few sentences of the article. Her face flushed hot and her pulse pounded in her temples.

  “That’s bullshit! That never happened!” She growled. She quickly forwarded the text to Cameron then pressed the icon to delete the message. I hope Cameron finds them so Hank can go kick their asses! She turned the phone off and tossed it onto her nightstand then rolled on her side and pulled the blankets up around her neck. She tossed and turned for an hour before she drifted off to sleep.

  A couple of days later, Amanda sat in a study cubicle in the university library. Her cell lay on the desk in the small room, and she had the call on speaker phone.

  “Amanda, you there?” Hank asked.

  “Here.”

  “Cameron?”

  “Yep.”

  Amanda giggled. “You’re getting so good at these conference calls, Hank; I may need
to start calling you Siri.”

  “Who the hell is Siri?”

  Cameron and Amanda both groaned.

  “Never mind,” Amanda said. “Let’s hear what Cameron has to say.”

  “Fine,” Hank grumbled. “I’m sure it was some insult about my tech skills, anyway. Cameron, any news?”

  “Yes, but…not good.”

  “Shit!” Hank said.

  “As I mentioned on our last call, this was the most likely outcome. Looks like it was a burner phone. I traced it to its distributor, but these things are sold at just about any convenience store and sometimes even out of the trunks of cars…. There’s even a pretty organized effort to ship these kinds of phones around the country by private couriers so they’re not sold anywhere even close to where the official distributor had delivered it. Bottom line, there’s no way to know who actually sent these texts.” He huffed. “It’s quite frustrating for law enforcement.”

  “So…dead end?” Amanda asked.

  “I’m afraid so, Amanda.”

  “There was one finding that may be of interest, though,” Cameron said hesitantly.

  “What’s that?” Hank asked.

  “It looks like the text bounced around some international routes before you got it.”

  “And…how’s that help?”

  “That’s not something just anybody would be capable of.”

  “Your point?” Hank asked.

  “It might imply that this is somebody who has some serious tech skills…or enough money to pay for such resources.”

  Does he have a point with this comment? “I’m not sure how that tidbit really helps us,” Amanda said.

  “I know,” Cameron replied. “It’s just an interesting observation at this point. But I do think it tells us we’re probably not dealing with a low-level street thug or other amateur.”

  “Can’t make much of a plan based on that,” Amanda responded. Was this just a waste of time?

  “Well, we’ll just have to go to Plan B,” Hank said.