Body Switch (A Sam Rader Thriller Book 2)

by Simon King

  Sam cautiously reached out and let herself be pulled to her feet. She watched as the man grabbed a handkerchief and rubbed his balding head.

  “It’s warm out here. Do you need a drink?”

  “Who are you?” she asked. The man smiled again, his eyes friendly with kindness.

  “You know, I’ve been watching, Samantha. Watching you with those that you punish. You know, I can feel your thirst. Even now, I can feel your urge to quench it; to find your next victim and satisfy that thirst only death can fulfill.”

  “Who are you?” she asked again, but he suddenly turned and began to walk back up the mountain, leaving Sam standing alone on the path. When he was a distance away, he turned back a final time.

  “I know what you seek, Samantha. I know, because it was me that sent you to seek it.” Before she could ask what he meant, the man disappeared, leaving her alone once more. Before she had a chance to move, there was a noise behind her and Sam turned to find her Mum standing a few yards behind her.

  “Mum?” Sam called, running towards her. But despite covering the short distance in just a few seconds, Judith Rader remained the same gap away, seemingly floating on air as Sam desperately tried to catch her. She was mouthing something to Sam, but the words failed to take flight, as if silenced by an invisible hand.

  “Mum?” Sam called again, running faster and faster, her bleeding feet burning with fresh cuts as she desperately tried to catch up. But like a distant mirage, the distance between them remained the same, until Sam finally felt her legs collapse beneath her. As she looked up, Judith was pointing at something in the distance, her eyes almost terrified. Sam looked across a narrow valley, to where a small cabin stood. Looking back at her Mum, Judith tried to mouth something, her face now contorted into a horrified glare.

  “ I don’t understand,” Sam cried, reaching a hand out, as if to capture her mother in it. She looked back at the cottage, its disheveled walls looking flaked with paint and rot. The windows appeared unbroken, but stained with filth. There was a chimney on one side of the building, grey-blue tufts of smoke gently rising into the cloudy sky.

  When Sam looked back at her mother, she too was gone, leaving her once more standing alone on the hill. Something touched her shoulder and she turned, screaming in horror as a figure bent towards her, the flesh torn from its cheek to reveal a row of rotten teeth. Sam paused, took a step back and screamed again as the figure touched her shoulder, shaking her with a powerful grip.

  “Sam, wake up,” Tim shouted again, shaking her by the shoulder. Sam’s eyes flew open as she screamed again, backing away until she banged into the window behind her. It took her a moment to realize where she was, rubbing the back of her head as Tim watched on.

  “What the hell…” she whispered.

  “That must have been one hell of a doozy,” Tim said, dropping back into his chair. “You OK?” Sam nodded, sitting up and wiping her eyes.

  “Yah, think so. That was weird.”

  “They usually are. Hey, guess what?” Sam looked across at him.

  “What?”

  “I think I may have found something.” He turned the laptop around so Sam could see the screen. On it sat an open web page, the Facebook login staring back.

  It was the profile of a man Sam didn’t recognize. In the main photo, he was piloting a small boat, the kind that had a small roof under which only the driver’s seat sat. There was a teenaged boy standing next to him, the pair of them wearing teeth-baring grins. In the smaller profile picture, the man held up a can of Budweiser, saluting the camera with a silent toast.

  “Who’s that?” Sam asked, unsure of who the man was.

  “This here is Christopher Norman, and do you know who this man just happened to hate a whole lot?”

  “Who?”

  “One George Andrews.”

  5

  “She ain’t home,” the woman called as Tim went to knock on the door a third time. Both he and Sam looked across the fence and saw her standing there, just watching them. “You guys cops?”

  “Not cops. Reporters,” Tim called back.

  “She’s gone to visit her sister’s. She lives down near Albuquerque.”

  “Know how long she’s gone for?” Tim asked as he and Sam walked towards the woman.

  “She didn’t say. This about the whole grave robbing thing?” Tim nodded.

  “We just a had a couple of questions to ask,” Sam said.

  “Yah, you and the rest of the world. What sort of a freak digs up a grave, then carries the corpse half way across the country? The news services are having a field day with this one.”

  “Do you know Mrs. Andrews well?” Sam asked. The woman nodded cautiously.

  “Been neighbors for almost 20 years. My Charles and George were like the brothers they never had, if you know what I mean.”

  “Can I ask you…I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name. I’m Tim, this here is Sam.”

  “Serena Long.” She shook with each of them, then turned her attention back to Tim, waiting for him to finish his question.

  “Serena, may I ask you if you recognize this man?” Tim held up a photo of the man he’d shown Sam back on the plane.

  “That’s Chris Norman. Whatcha want with him?” She changed her expression a little, looking from Sam back to Tim. “You sure you’re not cops?”

  “No Ma’am,” Sam said, smiling. “We’re just curious about this man because he appeared in a couple of the other news reports we’ve seen.”

  “Ain’t seen Chris in a long time. He did drop by a couple of times, especially after George left his mother.”

  “They didn’t have a good relationship? Chris and George, I mean?” Tim asked, to which Serena laughed heartily.

  “Good gracious no. Thought Chris would murder George at one point. Gail there had to call the cops to break them up.”

  “What was it over?” Sam asked.

  “What every decent argument is ever about. Money, of course. George there was trying his hardest to get his share when the marriage ended, but Chris let him know that there would be none coming his way. The whole damn neighborhood heard the argument.”

  Serena looked over her shoulder, seemed to smell the air, then turned back to them.

  “Care for a cup of tea? I need to get back inside or else my cake’ll be dog food.” Without waiting for a response, the old woman turned back to her front door and disappeared inside as Tim and Sam climbed the waist-high fence.

  “You think this Chris Norman has something to do with it?” Sam asked as they walked towards the woman’s front door. Her yard was a wasteland of dead plants and patches of dirt; a far cry from the many yards the elderly seemed to nurture into pristine showpieces.

  “I don’t know, but he’s the best bet we have right now.”

  Serena called them inside when she heard them shuffle near the door. She had pulled the cake from the oven by the time Tim and Sam walked into her kitchen, although Sam silently doubted the sad looking lump could be classed as a cake. It looked more like a sunken pancake, with one end a little inflated like a hernia.

  “Have my daughter and her husband dropping by this afternoon for some sort of announcement. Never been much of a cook, myself.”

  “No, it looks great,” Tim lied, although Serena saw through it.

  “No need to bullshit. I was one of the lucky ones. Before leaving me, Charles did the cooking. Whilst I did the rest of the homely duties, he always handled the kitchen.”

  Sam looked around the room and wondered just how much the woman held up her part of the bargain. The place looked well and truly past needing a deep clean.

  “Your husband left you?”Tim asked and almost immediately realized the rudeness of the question. “I’m sorry, I…didn’t mean to pry.” His cheeks lit up a bit as Sam kicked him under the table.

  “No need to be sorry and no, Charles didn’t leave. Not unless you call death as walking out.”

  “Oh,” Tim whispered, his cheeks adding s
everal shades of color as he realized. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Serena seemed to enjoy his embarrassment, laughing slightly.

  “It’s been a few years now, son. More than enough time to come to terms with it.”

  “I’m curious. You said Chris dropped by a couple of times. Did he have other reasons, besides money issues?” Sam took a sip as Serena handed her a cup of tea. It was hot, weak and left an unpleasant aftertaste.

  “George had a habit of dropping by to see Gail whilst he was supposedly married to Chris’s mum. I’d see his vehicle in the driveway almost on a weekly basis at times, as if he was still living with her.”

  “Did they ever argue?” Tim asked. Serena slammed the cake tin on the table, trying to loosen the bottom of the cake.

  “Yah, but don’t ask me what over. Saw him leave a number of times and she would just stand on her porch, watching as he left, not even so much as a wave.”

  “Think they were still together?” Sam added as Serena turned the baking tin upside down, carefully holding a plate to its topside.

  “Maybe. But they gave no indication of it outside their walls.” She lifted the cake tin up and watched as a sad-looking mass sat on the plate. “If anything, I’d say she was pissed at him.”

  “What makes you say that?” Sam asked after forcing a little more of the concoction in her cup down.

  “Just from what she told me once. Didn’t make sense when she said it. Told me that nothing he’d ever planned worked the way he expected. I often thought he meant the marriage itself. But the more I saw him come home and then had Chris drop over as well, I’d say George was up to no good.”

  There was a knock on the door and Serena left to answer it. Tim watched her go, then lent in close to Sam.

  “I’ll bet anything that George played Elizabeth, and Chris Norman suspected him of it.”

  “OK, I get that. But why would her son take his mother on a tour of the country?” Tim sat back, looking mystified as Serena walked back in the room, a small flyer in her hand.

  “Damn door knockers,” she said, depositing the slip of paper into the trash. She turned back to them, looked at the cake and sighed. “Hmmm, nothing a bit of glaze won’t fix. Now, where were we?”

  “We need to push off. But you’ve been really helpful,” Tim said, rising from his chair.

  “Oh, you sure? It’s kind of wonderful having a bit of company that’s not family for once.” Sam giggled a little.

  “No, we really need to go. Thank you so much.” Sam lent in and gave the old woman a brief hug. Serena returned it, then led them back to the front door.

  “If there’s anything else, be sure to come back.”

  “Actually,” Tim said, reaching inside his coat pocket. “Could you let us know when Gail Andrews returns?” He held out a business card and Serena took it, then read the brief notes on it.

  “Of course, but I’m not sure how long she’ll be. Could be months.”

  “However long, it doesn’t matter. And thanks for your help.”

  After another brief goodbye, Tim and Sam returned to their car and pulled back out onto the road. Serena gave them a final wave before disappearing back into her home.

  “It just doesn’t make sense,” Sam said, reaching for her earpiece.

  “You’re right. Maybe it’s not him after all.”

  Tim suddenly slammed his elbow into the door. “FUCK!” It caught Sam by surprise as she jumped a little. “Sorry,” he whispered. “But why the hell is this prick taking bodies around the countryside?”

  “Maybe we’ve been looking at this from the wrong angle,” Sam offered.

  “Huh?” Tim said.

  “What if the ones left in the coffins are the real targets and the coffin corpses are just decoys?” She touched her finger to the earpiece, as if making sure it was there. “Mumma?”

  “Yes, child?” Mumma said after a brief pause.

  “Anything on the latest victim yet?”

  “Sending it through shortly, although I have to warn you. I’ve found nothing to link any of them. They’re as random as lottery numbers.”

  “Mumma, we’re gonna set up at a nearby motel. Need to stop and go through what we have.”

  “Sure. Just let me know once you get there and I can be ready to help when you need it.”

  “Thanks, Mumma,” Tim said, pointing to something up ahead. Sam looked and nodded her head as the red neon sign repeatedly blinked “Vacancy”.

  After checking them in, Sam followed Tim as he parked in front of their room. It was a typical roadside motel, with a bunch of rooms all lined up along one wall. After parking the car in front of Room 16, Tim jumped out, reached into the back seat and grabbed the bag. Sam went to the door, unlocked it and waved her partner through.

  “Velcom, fine sir,” she joked, putting on her worst German accent. Tim laughed slightly as he entered the room, the musky smell of time hitting him in the face.

  “Think we need a bit of an air out,” he sighed, dropping his bag on the table and opening the front window.

  “I think you’re right,” Sam agreed, leaving the front door open for a bit. “Be right back,” she snapped, before disappearing into the bathroom. She returned a few moments later, her bladder finally emptied. She was carrying a can of air freshener and began to spray it around the room.

  “Great,” Tim sneered. “Now we can smell like a toilet, instead.” She sprayed a little in his direction, making out to stab the can at him. Tim picked up his bag like a shield.

  “Rather smell,” Sam began, reading the can. “I’d rather smell like ‘autumn mist’ than whatever this other aroma is.”

  “Yeah, OK. You win,” he finally conceded. “Before we start, wanna grab some food? Think I spotted a Subway a mile back. I could do with a pizza sub.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Sam agreed, grabbing her purse. “I’ll go.”

  After feasting on footlong pizza subs, Sam cleaned up their trash while Tim prepped his laptop. With their stomachs filled and a few cookies still in reserve, they promised to settle in for an investigative session that wouldn’t end until they either found a definite lead, or they both starved to death.

  While Tim remained sitting at the table busily typing away on his laptop, Sam lay on her bed scrolling through several social media sites. Mumma sent the access details directly to her, helping Sam gain entry to private pages. She lay on her stomach, her feet constantly arcing from pillow to sky as she scrolled through page after page of information.

  While Tim began with the unfortunate Eugene Garcia and Victor Mortimer, breaking down every possible section of their lives, Sam focused on the new name that had now entered the gaming ring.

  Proving Officer Douglas Campbell’s hunch correct, Erica Robins had in fact been in the database, popping up almost the instant her prints were entered. She had been a prostitute, who worked the Houston, Corpus Christie and San Antonio triangle, having some regular well-to-do clients in that part of the state.

  Her drug use had been somewhat controlled, but it was her passion for alcohol that often led the 28-year old down a dark path. Some of her “clients” were known to take advantage of her, leaving the mother of two constantly pregnant and requiring terminations that she acquired in less than formidable establishments. Her regulars understood that once they managed to fill her with enough alcohol, it was game on, any way they wanted.

  The police knew the young woman well, having arrested her on many occasions. Her children lived with their grandmother, while each of their fathers had remained unknown. Despite the lack of a nurturing mother, the children did well, with a grandmother that would eventually provide them with the full-time care they deserved.

  But after digging a little deeper into some of the social links, Sam began to find that Erica Robins had been trying to clean up her act during the past few months. Her alcohol consumption had declined significantly and she began to attend AA meetings twice a week. Whilst not halted entirely, the reduction seemed t
o give her a much clearer sense of direction with her life.

  Having always had a passion for animals, Erica gained employment at a local veterinary hospital as a cleaner. She hoped it would lead to more of a hands-on role, caring for the sick and injured animals. Judging by some of the private messages Sam found, her boss was very happy with the level of work she was performing.

  To keep herself occupied, Erica also took on a second job, one much closer to her small apartment. She walked the dogs of some of the elderly residents in her building; mainly those unable to leave because of their frailty. It gave her the animal contact she so desperately sought and managed to keep her active when not working at the hospital.

  The combination of employment, reducing her alcohol consumptions, as well as getting all-important support with substance abuse, had a profound effect on her life. The relationship with her mother that had significantly deteriorated over the previous years, had been steadily mending, the messages between them growing in frequency and respect during the final few months of her life.

  As Sam continued to dig deeper and deeper, it became apparent that given more time, Erica Robins may have eventually brought her life full circle, returning to the promising young girl who had such high dreams of life when she graduated college.

  Throughout the final three months of her time on Earth, there appeared to be a connection which gave her hope. A man named Paul Sheldon began to interact with Erica on Facebook more and more, despite never meeting. Erica cared for him deeply, as evident in not only their many back-and-forth messages, but also in the private online diary she kept.

  Sam instantly recognized the name, as it came from one of her favorite books, Misery by Stephen King. As she continued to read the messages between the pair, it became apparent to her that the name may have been an alias and after spending some time checking several sites for stock photos, quickly found the profile pictures of the so-called Paul Sheldon to be fake.