Prime Suspect: A Psychological Thriller With A Twist You Won’t See Coming

by Cole Baxter

  "Honestly, I think I've seen everything that I want to see," I said. "Thanks so much."

  With that, I turned and left. I knew that Sam was probably banging his fist against the desk, but I didn't really care.

  I turned my head to the right as I walked out of the building. Our desks, Lola's and mine, were being used by two new people these days. I didn't really care who they were, and it wasn't like I was unreasonable enough to think that the desks should just sit empty. But I did see the ghosts of Lola and me sitting there, laughing over something that probably wasn't even that funny and drinking way too many cups of coffee. In those days, we worked hard. We came in early and we stayed until late, and then we went home together. We didn't really care about the hours we worked because it felt like we were just on one long adventure together. Work or home life felt the same to me.

  Lola had been buried in the graveyard behind the big church, and I knew that I had to go see her now that I had looked at her desk and felt the pain of her loss all over again.

  Her funeral was still fresh in my head. I felt like it was just yesterday that we all walked into the graveyard wearing our dress uniforms. I had thought that given the amount that I was drinking, I would not remember a single moment from her funeral, but that turned out to not be true. I remembered every agonizing detail.

  I remembered every eulogy that was said. I remembered how many people cried. I remembered that I stood there, stoic, while people came by and placed their hands on my shoulders. I remembered pulling away from their grips and going off to a pub somewhere to drown my sorrows.

  It bothered me so much that someone would hurt the one they loved. It bothered me so much that I hated someone who would try to kill someone they supposedly loved. Of course, I did know that there were two sides to every story and I tried to stay as unbiased as possible. For all I knew, she was a crazy psychopath and he was trying to get away from her. For all I knew, she had come at him with a knife and he had lost his mind and they were both to blame. It wasn't like I hadn't come across many of those people in my time on the force. There were people doing things to other people like you wouldn't believe. There were people who seemed to exist just to be evil and hate other people.

  Frankly, I didn't get it. I didn't get how someone could have that much darkness in their soul. Yes, I had been angry, and yes, I had said things I didn't mean to people. But I could never do what some of these bastards did. I could never manage to be a horrible person.

  I waited until I was sitting by Lola's grave to speak. I had tried to bring flowers every week for a while, but that didn't always work out. Sometimes, I brought a beer and just sat with her to drink it, like we did in the early days. Sometimes, I brought a movie I had downloaded and just watched it. I knew it was crazy and I knew that I should probably seek help because I was here all the time. But I just wasn't ready to let her go.

  I could give up harming myself with the booze. I could give up sleeping crazy hours. But I couldn't give up the place in my heart that she held. I could never walk away from this woman I had loved so much.

  "Hey," I said to her as I sat down. "Boy, do I have a story to tell you!"

  I wished so badly that she were here so she could respond. But if she were here, we'd still be on the force and I wouldn't be working to make crazy money as a private detective. Our salaries wouldn't be the best, but we'd be all right, and we'd manage to make it through together.

  "Some guy choked out his wife and she faked her own death," I said. "For months and months. And now she's doing the motivation circuit about it."

  I chuckled despite myself and put my hand on her grave.

  "I wish you were here, Lola. I know we'd chase down this guy together. Or at the very least, I wouldn't be such garbage at everything."

  Of course, she didn't answer back. The silence as of late had been deafening, but I didn't know what else to do. It wasn't like I could talk to anyone else. There was just Lola.

  Chapter Six

  Laurie

  His hands were coming right at me, and I knew that I couldn't escape. His hands were bigger than I remembered, and they closed around my throat. I was certain that this time, I would die.

  I could feel him thrusting into me and I saw my vision go black. Time and safety didn't matter. Breathing didn't matter.

  Nothing mattered except the darkness that came over me. Nothing mattered except the pain.

  Did I deserve this? Had I been such a terrible person in a past life that I deserved this now? Did I deserve pain and suffering because he thought it was best? Was his pleasure more important than mine?

  I awoke without a single noise. I was absolutely exhausted and my limbs felt like lead.

  To my surprise, I wasn't alone. I wasn't in a bed, either. I was on the floor, and Belinda and Mario were kneeling beside me.

  "There," Mario said. "She's coming out of it now. You're okay, Laurie. You're okay."

  I felt like I couldn't talk. I felt like even blinking was the biggest action in the world. How could these people kneel and look at each other when everything felt like so much greenery? How could they muster up the courage to do anything at all?

  "You're okay," Mario said. "Just breathe. Just relax."

  I took another deep breath and my eyes rolled toward Belinda. As Mario had promised, I did like her quite a bit. She was Haitian, and she always wore the most beautiful colored beads on her long dreadlocks. Her skin was lighter than his, and I liked to watch them hold hands. I thought the color contrast was beautiful and I thought that she was stunning. She was also one of the kindest people I had ever met. When Mario brought me home, she opened up her arms and her house without a single word. She was a pediatrician by trade, and while she worked long hours, she always came home with energy and a smile on her face. I knew that she probably saw some grim relatives with extremely sick children, but she never let that stop her from being in a good mood. Even now, despite the fact that I was lying on her floor and drooling, she was smiling at me.

  "It's okay, Laurie," she was saying. "It's okay. Everything is okay."

  "What . . . happened?" I finally managed. "What’s going on?"

  "You just had a seizure," Mario said. "I think you were going to sit on the couch and you fell over."

  "No," I managed as I sat up. My head felt like bricks, and they both sat on either side of me to hold me up. "No. I was dreaming . . ."

  "The seizure was about twenty minutes ago," Mario said. "Sometimes, afterward, patients fall asleep and dream."

  "But . . ." My mouth was dry. "This has happened before, hasn't it?"

  "You remember?" Belinda said and gave her husband a look. "Good. Good."

  "I remember," I answered. "But I thought that you said it was a one-time thing and probably wouldn’t happen again?"

  "Well, even doctors can be wrong," Belinda said gently. "Although we don't like to be."

  "Why don't you take a seat on the couch?" Mario asked. "Sit up if you can, and we'll bring you some tea."

  They were so kind it was overwhelming.

  I had never had seizures in my life. I remembered vaguely that we discussed this the first time it had happened. The first time, I was terrified. Now, I was just exhausted. It was as if things just couldn't stop going wrong around here.

  Belinda and Mario didn't seem too concerned by the fact that I was so tired and cold. Mario went to get me some tea after helping me to the couch, and Belinda wrapped a blanket around me and brushed back my sweaty hair from my face. I felt tears come to my eyes. I felt like such a child.

  "It's okay," she said. "I imagine it's quite scary."

  "I'm really sorry. I know you two are busy and when you come home, you just want to relax. I'm sorry that I—"

  "Laurie, stop apologizing," Belinda said with a smile. "Seizures are not your fault."

  "I know," I managed, "but you have been so nice to me and I just keep having more and more problems."

  "Well," Belinda said carefully, "it may be that yo
u were without oxygen for longer than we think."

  "Oh?" I replied. "I was? But I thought you said it was all right?"

  "Sometimes, in the chaos of the emergency room, things don't get recorded like they should," she replied. "That’s probably where the seizures are coming from since you said that they haven't happened before."

  "I've never had them before," I said as Mario came back into the room with a cup of tea. "But I know what they look like. I had a friend who had them in school. They look terrible and they are so disturbing to watch when you . . . I guess when you care for someone. I know that they probably aren't scary for you guys because you're doctors."

  "Just because we're doctors doesn't mean we don't have feelings," Mario said with a smile. He sat on the other side of the couch.

  "And one of those feelings that we have . . ." Belinda said carefully, "is that we're quite worried about you."

  "Don't be worried about me! Please. You two are already so kind to keep me here. You shouldn't have to worry too. I'll be all right."

  "I know that you will be," Belinda replied. "You're strong, Laurie. You're stronger than anyone I know. But there is more to you than the strength of your mind."

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Well . . ." Belinda said. "Mario and I have been talking, and we're a bit worried about your being here during the day alone, especially if you're having seizures."

  I couldn't separate the seizures from the fact that they didn't trust me. I knew that was ridiculous and left over from my trust issues with Devon, but that didn't mean I could manage to tear apart the two issues.

  "I'm not going to break anything," I said in a shaking voice. "And I'll be really careful. But I understand if you feel like I have overstayed my welcome and you think I should go."

  "No, no," Mario said. "We're not saying that all!"

  His eyes were so kind, but I didn't know what conclusions to draw.

  "What we're saying," Belinda said gently, "is that I think we should get you some medical attention."

  "But you two are doctors," I said.

  "But we aren't here all the time," Belinda replied. "So we can't help you if we're both working day shifts. We don't have a hospital set up here either, Laurie, in case something happens."

  "So, you do want me to go?" I concluded.

  "I think we should take you to the hospital," Belinda said. "Just to run a bunch of tests and see if there isn't another issue."

  "You can't do that," I cried. "You can't do that because everyone at your hospital thinks I'm dead, and what if Devon happens to be there visiting a friend or something, and what if—"

  "Laurie," Belinda said gently, "calm down. We weren't thinking of our hospital."

  "What were you thinking of then?"

  "We have friends in a hospital about three counties over," Mario said. "They would be sworn to utter secrecy. We would check you in under a different name and we would make sure they never released your records. They would give you a full workup and make sure that there are no issues."

  "I–I don't know," I said. "I mean, I . . . what if they . . . I could . . ." I was stuttering with fear. It had taken me so long to trust the two of them, and now they wanted me to go somewhere else and trust someone else? I really didn't know if I could do that. My heart was hammering in fear and my mind was turning over all the things that could go wrong.

  What if the doctors were mean to me? What if they choked me too? What if Devon found out I was there? What if a friend from an old life recognized me? What if . . .

  "We're going to make sure that you're okay and treated well," Belinda promised me. "And as soon as you are well again, you can come back here and stay as long as you like."

  "Really?" I asked.

  She nodded. "We promise," she replied. "We just really think that the lack of oxygen has caused some issues that should be investigated. This could be why you’ve been feeling so . . . not like yourself."

  "Does it show that much?" I asked.

  She touched my shoulder gently. "You've been through a hard time, my dear," she said. "You have a right to feel not like yourself. However, I think you'll find that once we get to the bottom of these issues, you may feel much better."

  I had trusted them thus far and they had not led me astray. I knew that trusting them further would not harm me, even if my body was still shaking.

  "All right," I said at last. "All right, I'll do it. When do I have to go?"

  "We can make the arrangements at once," Mario said. "And then as soon as a bed opens up, today or tomorrow, we'll get you there."

  I wished that I could ask them to stay with me. But they were busy doctors, and I wasn't their child. There was still a part of me that hoped they would stay for at least a few hours when they first checked me in.

  "They aren't going to need to like . . . do surgery or anything, are they?" I asked.

  Belinda shook her head. "They shouldn't," she said. "And maybe they won't find anything wrong at all."

  "But then, what about the seizures?" I asked.

  She sighed. "Well, it could just be that these are a part of your life now. There are things we can do, of course, to medicate them, or even some natural things that we can do that may help you have fewer of them."

  "Like what?" I asked.

  "Less stress," she said with a smile. "A calm, peaceful life out in the countryside."

  "Oh," I replied and sipped my tea. "I mean, that sounds lovely."

  "Doesn't it?" she said and patted my knee. "Anyway, my dear, I don't think you should worry about anything for now. We're going to take care of you, and everything is going to be fine."

  "I know," I said. "It's just . . . hard to imagine that. You know? Everything hasn't been fine in years."

  "I know," she said. "You poor dear. I can only imagine what you’re going through in your head."

  "You two really have made it easier," I said as Mario came back into the room again. He'd left to make a call, and although I couldn't hear him, I knew he'd been speaking about me. Everyone pitied me and I didn't really want to be pitied. I wanted to be strong and ready to rise up against Devon. I wanted to show the world that I could survive anything.

  I knew that was a contradiction, given how I was feeling just a moment ago. I knew it could be a long time, if ever, before I felt that strong again. But that didn't mean I couldn't dream.

  "After all you've been through," Belinda said to me with a smile, "you should write a book."

  "Yeah, maybe I should," I said with a soft smile. "Do you think my story would be interesting to read?"

  "Oh, darling, I think lots of people would be interested in reading it," she replied. "There are many women like you who have gone through so much and come out the other side. They find strength in each other, and they tell their stories so other women don't have to go through what they did."

  I'd never considered that before. I had never considered that the hell I had gone through would help someone else. But now that she said it, I realized that it really could.

  "There will probably be a bed in the morning," Mario said at last when a text message came through his phone. "So, let's have a nice relaxing evening, and then we'll get you taken care of tomorrow."

  "Thank you," I said, looking between the two of them. "Thank you for everything."

  "It's our pleasure, my dear," she said.

  I knew she truly meant it. I wasn't particularly eager to stay in a hospital again. Hospitals, after the last experience, had definitely left me with some sort of trauma that I knew wouldn't easily be erased. However as I carefully packed my bags that night, I tried to tell myself that this hospital would be different. Firstly, I had never been there with Devon. Secondly, there wouldn’t be millions of doctors running at me with paddles and trying to open up my throat. At least, I hoped they wouldn't. These ones would just be running some tests and trying to help me. And hopefully, I wouldn't have to stay too long.

  I didn't even have much to pack, seeing as B
elinda and Mario had bought me everything I needed. All of my stuff fit into a backpack, which was a far cry from when I lived with Devon and had a house full of stuff. Strangely, though, I didn't miss any of that. I felt free and like I could go anywhere and do anything once I was well. I hoped that was the case. I hoped this was my second chance.

  Chapter Seven

  Laurie

  “So, it looks like you can head home today," said the doctor standing at my bedside. "The damage to your brain will heal, although I have put in a recommendation for some therapy. Emotional wounds sometimes take a lot longer to heal than physical wounds."

  "Thank you," I said as he handed me the paperwork. "But I will heal?"

  "Yes, you will heal," he said with a smile. "My job is the physical wounds. Your job is the emotional wounds. Just take care of yourself, and you'll be all right with time."

  "Thank you," I said again.

  Of course, the papers didn't have my real name on them. I hoped that in bringing them home to Grace and Mario, they would have some insight into how to help me even further. They had been so kind to say that I could continue to stay with them as soon as the hospital discharged me, and one of them was on their way to pick me up right now. I didn't know whether it was Mario or Grace. She'd said that whichever one of them was less tired after the night shift would come.

  I really did think that they were angels on Earth sent here to help me. I couldn't believe that I had stumbled across such kind people. Someday, hopefully, we would laugh about how we met. Today, I just had to focus on not forgetting anything at the hospital. While I waited for my ride, I went around the floor thanking everyone for helping me. The staff here had been amazing. If they knew my story or who I really was, they didn't let on at all. They simply smiled at me and squeezed my hand whenever I needed a kind word, and they were very patient as my damaged brain tried to understand what they were telling me.

  Essentially, it was exactly what Grace had suspected. There was some brain damage from being without oxygen, and it was giving me seizures and making me feel all sorts of emotions that I probably wouldn't normally feel. However, there was a good chance that it would heal and I would go back to being myself. At least, physically, I would go back to being myself. Emotionally was a whole different story. Emotionally, I knew it would take a lot of time and a lot of effort to go back to who I was. Anyone coming close to me terrified me. Having someone look at my collarbone, which had a large scar across it, frightened me. Like a little puppy, loud noises scared me, and I couldn't watch a sex scene on TV without whimpering and curling up in a ball and crying.