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

by Cole Baxter

  "Well, tell me about Laurie," I said. "What happened?"

  "She came in with what we thought were catastrophic injuries," he said. "Her husband said she was attacked, and her vitals were all over the place. Frankly, we didn't have a lot of time to ask questions. So, we did the best we could to bring her back. But when she coded, to be honest, we didn't put too much into it because we were all sure there was no way she could survive."

  "But she did survive," I said.

  He sighed. "I know," he said. "That's the confusing part. There were at least ten people in that room trying to save her. Then there would have been two people to push her down to the morgue, and then the morgue doctor to sign off on receiving the body. So that's a total of thirteen people who either saw her dying or lying there dead. And trust me, we see life and death all the time. Both are pretty obvious."

  "Look, I'm not necessarily questioning your skills as a doctor," I said. "But Laurie's not dead. So, something went well . . . not wrong, but clearly, something happened."

  "I wish I could tell you what it was," he said. "She had no vitals. Her lips were blue. Her eyes were open and sightless. The machines were failing, even after several attempts. She was gone."

  “Okay," I said as I made a few notes. "Thanks. Do you think I could talk to these other people who worked with her?"

  "Yeah, sure," he said. "You don't believe me?"

  "I do," I said. "But I need as much evidence as possible. I need to look at this thing from all sides."

  Lola would be proud of me, I thought as he led me to someone else who had been there that night.

  Chapter Nine

  Laurie

  The bowl tipped toward me and I stood up quickly to avoid it splashing right on my lap. It was still steaming, and I didn't particularly feel like getting burned.

  It was only after I stood up and I realized I was still standing and hadn't fainted that I smiled.

  "Hey," I said to Mario and Belinda. "Look at me, getting up quickly without fainting."

  "Yes," Mario said. "I noticed that. I wasn't sure whether to rescue you or the soup."

  "Well, I don't think the soup can be salvaged," I said as I started to mop it up with my napkin. "Belinda, I'm sorry."

  "Oh, please," she said as she came over with her napkin. "It's just one bowl. And had you not spilled it, we wouldn't have learned that you’re getting better."

  "I guess not," I said with a grin. It had been nearly a month since I had gotten back from the hospital, and Mario and Grace had become my lovely hosts. I had been fainting frequently, but the doctor at the new county hospital told me that would eventually fade away. At first, I didn't believe him. Whenever I got up too quickly, bent over to pick something up, or was simply standing for a long time, I fainted. Whenever I hadn't gotten enough sleep or tried to exercise even a little bit, I fainted. It was starting to get to the point where someone stood behind me at all times, just in case. Luckily, they weren't actual seizures, just fainting spells.

  But this was the first time in a month that I had leapt up and hadn't hit the deck. This was amazing. If I hadn't been so sick already, we maybe would have celebrated.

  As it was, Belinda brought me a new hot bowl of soup and I sat back down. Her cooking was always delicious, and I was surprised that I hadn't gained a million pounds staying with them. Belinda never let me help with the cooking because she said I was a guest and I was there to enjoy myself. I appreciated it, but I really didn't want to feel like I was taking advantage of them. I had started to be able to do more than just lie on the couch. More than once, I had been able to stand long enough to do the dishes. On several occasions, I had managed to get the mail, and I had even signed for packages when the mailman came to the door and they were both at work.

  Mario had brought me a journal, saying that it would help with my memory. I thought that it would be difficult to write things down that I couldn't remember, but soon, the words began to flow. I wrote in it every night, and it seemed I remembered more and more about my life with Devon and the terrors that I had suffered. Before, there were big gaps, but now, they were all raw memories.

  "Thank you," I said as I dropped my spoon into my soup bowl. "I'm not sure how I will ever repay you."

  "Laurie." Belinda gave me a kind look. "You are not in any kind of debt to us. We are simply here to help you."

  "But," Mario said, a slight grin on his lips, "if you did want to repay us, there is something you could do for us."

  "Oh?" I asked. "I'll do anything. Tell me."

  "Well, it's something that would help you," Mario replied. "I noticed that you've been writing quite a bit in the journal that I got you. I think it would help your memory and help you heal as well if you were able to vocalize what you remembered as well."

  "You mean . . . you want me to tell you about . . . the things Devon did to me?" I asked.

  "Maybe not in graphic detail if you don't want to," Belinda said. "But perhaps you could . . . tell us what has recently come to light."

  "I could," I said cautiously. "But I don't want to . . . disturb you."

  "You won't," Belinda said. "Anything that could help you heal would be fine with us."

  "Well . . ." I said cautiously and dipped my spoon into my soup bowl, "I know that I've made Devon out to be a very bad man. And yes, he was a very bad person to me at the end of it. But it wasn't always like that. When we first met, he was sweet."

  "When did you meet him?" Belinda asked

  "I was nineteen and he was twenty-six." I closed my eyes as I recalled the day. "He was on campus giving a fire safety presentation and I was just walking to class. I didn't believe in love at first sight or anything like that . . . but when I saw him, honestly, I felt like I'd been hit over the head with a hammer. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. I was nineteen, and up until then, I had really only dated college boys. And they weren't even really men. We went on a few dates to things like coffee shops and ice cream parlors, but that was it. Devon was something else entirely. Devon was a man who could sweep me off my feet. And he did, on multiple occasions."

  "Did he not . . . think it was inappropriate?" Mario asked. "To take up with a college student?"

  "He never said anything to me about it," I said. "But lots of people had their opinions. If I'm honest, everyone’s opinions about us just made me love him more. I wanted to change the world. I wanted to be different and unique, and none of my friends were dating twenty-six-year-old firefighters."

  "So, you were married soon after?" Belinda asked.

  I nodded. "Yes, within a few months. He was everything, and I didn't see any reason to wait. He told me that I didn't need to finish college, that I could always go back later. He told me that he could take care of all the bills, that he could take care of me. And honestly, I was so stressed at college that it was just the most romantic thing I had ever heard . . . so I said yes, and he whisked me away to this new life."

  "My goodness," Belinda said. "That must have been quite a switch for you."

  "It was," I said. "And at first, of course, it was brilliant. I had everything that I wanted. People used to say I was unique and that I would change the world, and I really thought that I would. But the more I settled into a comfortable life with Devon, the more I realized that I didn't want to change the world as long as he was around. I just wanted to spend every spare moment with him. So, I did. We played games together, we laughed, we drank, we hung out. We used to hang out with a lot of my friends, but that started to fade away."

  "Did he not want you to see them?" Mario asked.

  "Exactly," I replied. "He said that they said horrible things to him or that they ignored him. And of course, all I ever wanted was for him to be happy, so I started to cut them out of my life, one by one. I didn't really have any family I was close to, so it was easy to cut my family out. And then, the friends that I hadn't cut out started to drop me because of what I had done with the others, and it was just a complete mess."

  "W
hen did the abuse start?" Belinda asked gently.

  I pushed the food around on my plate as I spoke. "I guess if I really think about it, it was there the whole time. There were always just little things, like he would get angry and then he would apologize. His sexual preferences were always a bit weird, but he started to . . . choke me when he was drunk. I didn't mind because I was a bit drunk too at times. However, then it started to get a bit more intense. The first time I saw bruises, I told him to stop."

  "Did he stop?" Mario asked. "At least for a little while?"

  "No," I said. "He didn't. He actually laughed and told me that he could just never sleep with me again, but that wasn't really a marriage. So, I started to learn little tips and tricks. I started to learn about makeup and scarves and all of those things. But eventually, they weren't good enough."

  "Well, yes, when you start going to the hospital, there's more than just . . . enjoyable sex," Belinda said. "I am so sorry that you had to go through it."

  “Yeah," I said. "It's okay."

  "No," Belinda said and looked me in the eye. "I never said that it's okay. It isn't okay that you went through it. It isn't okay that you suffered, and it isn't okay that you're in the situation that you're in now. But you are survivor."

  I felt tears fill my eyes.

  "Do you know that I would leave?" I said. "Yeah. I was thinking about leaving him when things got really bad. It was a few nights before he, uh . . . before he killed me. I actually had a bag packed. The thing is, I didn't have any money, so I had no idea where to go."

  "There are shelters," Belinda suggested. "Or organizations that could have helped."

  "Yes," I said. "But I didn't have access to a phone. He let me have the laptop sometimes, but only when he was looking over my shoulder."

  "The man is insane," Mario said with a shake of his head. "I can't believe it."

  "Well, I see that now," I replied. "But at the time . . . right up until I figured out that I wanted to leave, I thought that I loved him. I thought that things were all right. I thought that I would be able to work it out. After all, I didn't want to be one of those young married girls whose marriage failed."

  "You wouldn't have been a failure," Belinda said.

  "I know, I know," I said, even though it was hard for me to say that. "I don't even know whether it was love or loyalty or just the fear of love that kept me there. I was glad that there was no one around, in a way, because that meant that there was no one to judge my failure."

  Belinda and Mario looked at each other with a sad sigh. I knew that was a pity. I couldn't ask them to not pity me because they had been so kind to me. I managed to finish my dinner, which was a miracle. These past few months, I hadn't really eaten very well, either. Even when I lived with Devon, I had been dropping weight like crazy because I was so stressed and so scared.

  It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be with the love of my life, happily ever after.

  "You don't have to talk anymore," Belinda said. "I can see that you're distressed."

  "I'm okay," I said, even though I felt like my heart was pounding. "Look, I finished dinner."

  "I'm proud of you," Belinda said as she got up to help me clean up.

  I was starting to insist on doing the dishes, and I also wanted to wipe the table down and do whatever I could to help.

  "Thank you for sharing that with us."

  "You know, it did help me," I said. "Thank you for listening."

  "Do you feel comfortable with starting to see a therapist?" Mario asked as he pitched in to help us clean up. "I know that you weren't sure—"

  "I think I could start," I said. "But I would like a therapist who wants me to continue with unraveling my life with Devon. I'm finding that so helpful."

  "It'll be notes for your book," Belinda said with a smile. "When you change the world."

  I blushed.

  "I don't know about that," I replied as we cleared the rest of the table. "But for now, I guess they are my memoirs."

  I didn’t know if I could ever tell the world my story. However, I was getting closer to knowing what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, and that was a start. I could read my journal and see how far I had come, and that was what mattered right then.

  Chapter Ten

  Laurie

  “I actually have the day off," Mario said to me when I came down one morning. "So, I can take you to your MRI appointment today."

  "Oh," I said in surprise. "That would be great."

  I had an MRI appointment at the hospital that was about forty-five minutes away, so I would take a taxi. Mario driving me was much better because while I could walk by myself through the hospital, it was a little bit better if someone were at my side, just in case.

  "What do you think it will show?" I asked as we got in the car an hour later. The last MRI I'd had hadn't shown any progress, but Mario said the brain could heal fast.

  "To be honest, you're doing so much better," he said. "I am certain it will show some healing."

  "Oh, I hope so," I said. "I feel so much better too. I feel clearer, like the words are coming easier."

  "How is the book writing coming?" he asked. He was talking about my journal, of course, but I decided to tell him what I was thinking last night.

  "I think I will actually write a book," I said.

  His eyes shot up through his hairline. "Really?" he said as he drove. "That's fantastic."

  "Yeah," I said. "I just have so much to say, and I was thinking about what you said, about how this could happen to other people, or how it could help other people."

  "That’s wonderful," he said. "And I think that you’re doing something wonderful."

  "I'm just going to write my whole story," I said. "And then I guess I will see . . . what comes of it. Do you know how to get a book published?"

  "No," he said. "But I could ask around. I'm sure there are a lot of people who might want to hear your story. But would this be an anonymous book?"

  "You mean . . . am I going to say that I'm not dead?" I asked.

  "Yeah," he said. "We will support you, of course."

  "I know you will," I said. "I haven't decided that yet. If I'm honest with you, I'm scared of what might happen if I came out and said that I wasn't dead."

  "Devon wouldn't come after you," he said. "If he did, we would protect you."

  "But aren't there some legal ramifications about faking your own death?" I asked.

  "I don't think those rules apply when you're being abused," he said. "You didn't take advantage of anyone. You just protected yourself."

  "But what about you?" I asked. "You and Belinda could get in trouble."

  "Potentially," he said. "Belinda and I signed a Hippocratic oath to protect people and keep them safe. We also signed an oath to do no harm. I believe that this is part of that oath."

  "That is very kind of you," I said. "But that doesn't mean I will ask you to do it. If I do go public, so to speak, then I won't be telling anyone that you hid me."

  "That is up to you," he said, but I could tell that he was pleased with that decision "Anyway, here we are at the hospital."

  We pulled up and he parked the car before helping me out. I managed to walk all the way to the MRI room without assistance, which was basically a triumph at this point.

  After my MRI, they told me the results would be in a few days, and I was slightly disappointed. I wanted to know now that I was better, but Mario promised me that he would log into the system and let me know as soon as he knew.

  On the way home, he told me that he spent his time in the waiting room Googling book publishers. I was thrilled by that as he told me what I would need to do in order to submit a book to be published.

  "And they would be okay with an anonymous author?" I asked. "And maybe not ever see me?"

  "I'm sure they would be," he said. "I was talking to Belinda, and she would be okay to work with the publisher if you decide not to go public."

  "I feel like you have
worked this all out," I said. "I don't know what I would do without you guys."

  "Well," he said, "you might have published the book a lot sooner without us asking you all these questions."

  "No," I said with a blush.

  "There is something I should tell you," he said as we drove. "I just heard it on the news."

  "Oh, no," I replied. "What has Devon done now?"

  "Devon has announced that he is continuing the investigation with his own money," he said, "now that the police have closed it."

  "What?" I asked in shock. "But . . . why? He knows what happened. He knows what he is going to find. What the hell is he going to fake?"

  "I don't know," Mario said. His jaw was tight.

  I could tell that he didn't like upsetting me. I, on the other hand, wasn't just upset. I was furious. "I could say so many things about him," I said. "I could talk about his porn addiction. I could talk about the fact that he was two-faced. I could talk about the dangers of being strangled and how it's not just some weirdo kink, that it's an actual problem . . ."

  "You could do all of those things," he said. "But from what I’ve been hearing, you don't want to just yet."

  "I will put them in the book, at least," I answered, "so that whenever it comes out, whether I change the names or not, he'll know that it's about him. He will see right through the fake names, and he will know that I'm here somewhere, watching him."

  "The question is, if you stay anonymous, will he be smart enough to find you?" Mario asked.

  I sighed. "I want to say no," I said. "But I'm afraid that the answer might be yes. I'm afraid that he will just turn up and . . ." I shook my head. "Why am I talking about this? You know what I’m afraid of."

  "Laurie," he said patiently. "I think what matters today is your resting. We had a long drive, and you saw more people than you normally do. Even if you're planning to do all these things, it doesn't have to be done today."