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

by Cole Baxter

  What would the world think of me? How would they judge me? I waited until my abuser was gone and then took my own life? That was stupid.

  I unscrewed the pill bottle with shaking hands and took one pill out. I immediately put the cap back on and tossed the bottle aside. I knew that I wouldn’t manage to take another one if I didn't know where the bottle was because I wouldn't have the capacity to look for it.

  I swallowed the pill dry because I didn't have the time or energy to get a drink of water. Then, I let my head hit the pillow and I closed my eyes.

  And I waited. And I waited. And I waited.

  The thoughts of despair were still turning in my mind. I was exhausted and I felt sick to my stomach. However, the one thing that did not happen was sleep. Sleep was not a thing that ever came to me that night.

  When the sun rose in the morning, I couldn't believe my eyes. Had I actually been dreaming about it? Was I awake now? Was I asleep now?

  Was this whole thing a terrible dream? Why hadn't the pill worked? Why hadn't I gotten any relief?

  Why would Devon haunt me until the day I died?

  My head did feel clearer when I sat up, and I started to realize that I was awake.

  Yes, I felt like shit, but the important thing was that I had survived the night.

  I had survived the night and I would be able to carry on until the next night, at least.

  I may not be alive forever, but I was alive for now and I wanted to do something. I wanted to help Blake find the real person who did this.

  It wasn't just to clear my name, I realized. It wasn't just to make me seem like a real victim. I wanted Blake to think well of me. I wanted Blake to think I was innocent and maybe have a conversation with him that wasn't so hostile. I wanted Blake to believe in me.

  I closed my eyes and then put my feet on the ground. The room wasn't spinning so much anymore. I felt the need to be clean.

  Slowly, I walked toward the shower and turned on the water. I remembered Devon yelling at me about the amount of water that I used to use. I remembered him yelling at me about how I used to use all the hot water and that I was selfish.

  I wasn't being selfish. I just wanted to be free. And clean. I'd wanted to burn all my flesh off so that he would never touch it again.

  I wanted him to think I was some sort of burn victim who didn't have any skin. Any feelings. Anything worth taking. I wanted him to think I was disgusting.

  That was not what showers were supposed to be for. I was so screwed up I couldn't even manage to think normally about a shower. Who would want me? Who would ever look at me if they could hear the thoughts in my head?

  I stepped into the shower and let the hot water run over me. I tried to take a deep breath and tell myself that everything would be all right. I would be all right. I would be able to get clean, somehow.

  But as soon as I got out of the shower, clean or not, I would call Blake. Together, we would get to the bottom of this. Together, we would clear my name. And maybe, just maybe, we would do a few other things together too.

  Chapter Twenty

  Blake

  When my phone rang the next day, I almost wasn't going to answer it. I was my own person, working on my own cases, and I didn't have to answer to anyone. But when I saw that it was Sam, I groaned inwardly. I always answered the phone for Sam, even if I was blind drunk and didn't know my own name.

  "What do you want?" I said to him as soon as I picked it up. I wasn't really in the mood to take it. I had a raging hangover, and I wanted Sam to talk as quickly as possible. Even better, he could have just sent me an email with the case info.

  "I want you to come into the office," Sam said.

  "No," I said.

  I heard him grunt in surprise. "No?" he replied. "I'm telling you . . ."

  "Why?" Maybe no wasn't the right answer, but it was certainly the answer I wanted to say. I knew that technically, Sam was my boss in this case because the money was coming from this super-secret hidden client, but that didn't mean I had to listen to every summons he gave me, did it?

  "Because I need you to talk to Devon's parents," he replied.

  I groaned inwardly. "I really don't want to," I said.

  "Listen," he replied. "Blake, they are in mourning and it would help their grief to give them some answers."

  "Well, that's the thing," I said to him. "I don't have any answers. I don't have anything that I can tell them."

  "I understand that," he replied. "However, I need you to come in and give them a progress report or something. Just something they can cling to."

  "Oh, my God," I said. I was hung over, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk to these people. But if Sam would stay on the phone until I agreed, I wanted to hang up as soon as possible. "Sure."

  "Great," he said and hung up. If only all phone calls were that easy.

  I stumbled toward the shower and turned it on, scalding hot. I usually only had two choices for a shower, scalding hot or freezing cold. I didn't even consider taking a shower that would make me comfortable or happy. That wasn't what showers were for.

  Once I got out of the shower, I got dressed and then headed out the door. I knew I wasn't still drunk, but I sort of wished I were as I headed toward the car. I could have maybe used that as an excuse with Sam.

  I started the engine, and my brain navigated on autopilot toward the police station. It seemed like there was a lot of traffic, and it took longer than normal getting there. What that meant for me was longer than average dwelling on the fact that I would be at the last place I had really worked with Lola.

  I remembered our last morning in the office like it had been yesterday. She had come in, after we had been out the night before, with a smile on her face and a candy bar in her hand. We had slept apart, for whatever reason, thinking we'd just see each other in the morning. I regretted that choice now, more than anything.

  She had tossed me that chocolate bar with a wide grin on her face and watched as I devoured it at 7 a.m. Then, we had gotten our assignment and headed out to the squad car thinking that we would be able to spend the night together.

  I never thought that I would sleep alone that night and for the rest of my life. I never thought that she wouldn't ever be in my arms again, except bloody and dying on the sidewalk.

  My mind was so distracted when I walked into the office that I barely saw Sam sitting with Devon's parents.

  It was odd to see them out of their house. They had looked so in place in their big house, snobs sitting on furniture that cost more than my annual salary.

  Just as I was about to approach them, my phone rang.

  I looked down at it, wondering if it was anything important. To my surprise, it was Laurie calling me.

  I briefly wondered if she was just calling to apologize about the night before. Maybe she was calling to say that she was sorry that she was drunk and that she had actually committed murder and I could come arrest her.

  Except I couldn't arrest her because I couldn't arrest anyone anymore.

  I ducked out of the office to answer the call. I was certain that Sam saw me, but I didn't care.

  "Hello?" I answered.

  "Blake, it's Laurie," she said. She sounded a lot clearer, and I could tell that she was sober this time. "Are you busy?"

  "Not really," I lied. I realized that I would rather talk to her, as the prime suspect, than anyone else. "What can I do for you?"

  "I was actually hoping I could . . . help you," she said.

  "Help me?" I asked, confused. "Laurie, unless you want to tell me the truth about—"

  "I am telling you the truth," she said. "And no matter what state of mind I was in last night, I am still telling you the truth. Yes, I was drunk, but I didn't commit murder. However, I want to help you find whoever did it."

  "Help me how?" I was so confused. "How could you possibly—"

  "I know all of Devon's friends," she said. "I know everything about him. Despite the fact that he kept me locked away, he told me
everything because he wanted to brag about himself. He couldn't stop talking. Some days, I knew every moment of his every day, even though I never left the house. I could help you."

  "Interesting," I said. "And you are aware that if you help me, I will still be scrutinizing you for evidence?"

  "Sure," she responded. "Whatever you want. But I'm telling you, it wasn't me."

  "Hmm." I looked through the window, where Sam was still sitting with Devon's parents and giving me a death glare. "Well, that's an interesting offer, Laurie. Can I get back to you?"

  "Sure," she responded. "If you’d like."

  "Yeah, I think I'll call you back in a few," I said and hung up the phone.

  This could actually be a prime opportunity. If I allied myself with her and she was telling the truth, I could probably find out things a lot faster. And if she were lying, being that close to her would mean I could crack the case within a few days.

  It was a win-win situation.

  I actually had a smile on my face when I approached Devon's parents, which I was sure was the reason Sam was giving me the strangest look. Ellis shook my hand, whereas Shannon just sat there quietly.

  "Hello again," I said. "I'm once again sorry that we're meeting under such circumstances."

  "We want to know your progress," Ellis demanded without so much as a greeting. "Please. It would mean a great deal to us."

  "Well," I replied, "it turns out that I’ve been formulating a new plan."

  "You have?" Ellis said.

  "You have?" Sam echoed.

  I made a mental note to smack Sam later. It was like he thought that my brain didn't work anymore.

  "I have," I replied. "I was thinking of aligning myself with the prime suspect and luring them into a false sense of security. It's a pretty basic plan, but it does tend to work more often than you think."

  "And who is your prime suspect?" Ellis asked with a raised eyebrow.

  "I'm not at liberty to say," I said.

  Shannon couldn't help herself and leaned forward.

  "It's that girl, isn't it?" she asked. "That horrible girl who destroyed Devon. He was such a nice boy before he married her. He was such a—"

  "I'm not at liberty to say," I repeated. "But in cases like this, there are generally only a few possibilities. There is something else that I wanted you to consider, though."

  "Oh?" Ellis asked.

  "I know that this must be very traumatizing to hear . . . " I chose my words carefully. "But there wasn't really enough of Devon left to identify, was there?"

  "The dental records . . ." Shannon said, but I waved my hand.

  "The dental records were useful, but there is still a shadow of doubt," I said. "And whenever there is a shadow of doubt, we do like to consider other possibilities."

  "What other possibilities?" Ellis asked.

  "Possibilities such as the fact that Devon may not be dead," I replied.

  Both of them gasped in shock.

  "But if he isn't dead, what's happened to him?" Ellis demanded.

  Shannon started to cry into her hands, and I actually felt terrible about bringing this up.

  "I don't know," I answered. "However, because the evidence isn't quite strong enough to say it was him, you may want to think about looking at something like kidnapping."

  "No." Ellis shook his head. "There is no way that he's been kidnapped. There is no way that—"

  "I'm not saying that he was kidnapped for certain," I replied.

  "And if he had been kidnapped, where's the ransom note? Where's the—"

  "Mr. and Mrs. Whitman," I said. They were getting far too ahead of themselves and I wanted to nip it in the bud before they rushed down a road that wasn't quite correct. "I didn't say for certain that he had been kidnapped. I just wanted to inform you that it’s a possibility."

  "Blake, are you certain this is possible?" Sam asked with raised eyebrows.

  "I'm pretty certain that this is a possibility," I replied, giving Sam a dirty look. "You know I would not suggest anything that wasn't a possibility."

  "But why?" Shannon demanded. "Why would someone do that?"

  "I don't know," I said. "I don't have all the answers. Maybe revenge?"

  "Maybe Laurie kidnapped him instead of murdered him." She looked to her husband with shining eyes. "Maybe—"

  "Shannon, that's enough," Ellis snapped. "I told you that if you were going to get emotional, you wouldn't be allowed to come."

  Shannon, to my surprise, didn't look stunned at all by that comment. Instead, she nodded and quietly sank back into her chair.

  I watched the interaction with interest. Clearly, he always treated her that way because she was completely used to responding that way. It was as if she were some sort of trained dog, which made me upset.

  We knew that Devon abused Laurie. At least, we were fairly sure that he did. Did he learn that from his father?

  "So . . ." I answered. "If that's all, then—"

  "You can't just say those things and then run out the door," Ellis said. "I do not want you bringing up the possibility of Devon being kidnapped to anyone else unless you are sure, do you hear me?"

  "Well, of course," I said. "Confidentiality and all. I just thought that you would want some hope."

  "We don't want false hope," he snapped.

  "All right, well, I'm going to go," I replied.

  "But we want to know everything," he continued. "Everything you are thinking. Every possibility. Every moment, every lead."

  "Of course," I said, even though I didn't think that was likely. They were very demanding, and it struck me as odd. "As I said, I think I'll hit the road now."

  "Blake . . ." Sam started.

  But I shook my head and got up. I wasn't a police officer anymore. I didn't have to answer his rules.

  "Nice to see you both again," I said and headed out. I could hear Ellis protesting and Sam calling out after me, but I didn't really care. It was time to go and see Laurie and see if I could get the real story out of her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Laurie

  Being a murder suspect was really messing with my head. I was trying to focus on the book, and I was trying to focus on the website, but it was sort of hard.

  Sitting in front of the computer, I typed in the dreaded words murder suspect.

  A million hits came up, of course. I tried to ignore the ones that were stories of people actually being guilty and attempted to launch into the ones that were stories of people being innocent.

  There weren't too many cases of murder in which the wife was a suspect. From what I understood, it was extremely unlikely that women would lash out in that manner. Sure, if they were able to defend themselves, they would, and no one blamed you if it was clearly self-defense.

  But having women actually plot to kill their partners, that was an entirely different story.

  Frankly, it happened so rarely that I wondered why Blake suspected me at all. If he knew it was something rare, why didn't he look at something more likely? Why didn't he look at someone Devon worked with or did business with?

  It occurred to me that all this time I was with Devon, I could have been in danger from more than him. I could have been in danger from his colleagues too, apparently, who had just been waiting for the right opportunity to kill him.

  I wondered if it was one of the people from the firehouse. They hated him so much by the end. Devon would often come home in fits of rage after a normal day of work and watch porn for hours before coming to me and demanding that I do whatever he pleased.

  I would have preferred if he just drank himself to death, really, or lost his job. I would have preferred anything to the actual reality of the situation.

  Devon wasn't the type of person to keep things quiet, and I sort of wished he had. If he hadn't talked so much about work and the boys at the fire station, I actually would have suspected his father.

  They were at such odds all the time, despite being so similar. They were both terrible t
o women. I actually felt sorry for my mother-in-law, Shannon. Yes, she had a huge house and all the money in the world, and she had lived a life of celebrity since she married Ellis. But he treated her so terribly that she was actually afraid to speak when he was in the room. He treated her like she was a dog, and when she disturbed him, he hit her.

  There had been a few times when I had wanted to say something, but Devon had told me to stay quiet. He told me that Shannon was happy and that she got what she deserved. He told me that Shannon had a perfect life and any tragedy she had was her own fault.

  I had been stupid enough to leave it alone. I wished I had helped her. I wished I had helped myself.

  I wondered if Shannon would be open to my reaching out to her once she realized I didn't kill Devon. Of course, right now, she'd be angry with me. She had almost always been angry with me. She wasn't the type of mother-in-law who was kind and warm and caring to her daughter-in-law. She was always telling me what I was doing wrong as a wife or listing how I could improve. At the time, I disliked her and hated visiting Devon's parents.

  Now, I assumed that all that lashing out, all that anger, and all that attitude were probably a result of being abused.

  If I had been in contact with people when I was at the height of my marriage with Devon, I would probably treat people that badly as well.

  My email dinged, and I saw that it was a prescription update from the pharmacy. I had asked my therapist to refill my tranquilizers because obviously, the last dose had not helped. I hadn't slept at all, so I wondered if she could increase the dose as well.

  She had increased it to twice as strong, which surprised me. I thought she would just give me a small increase. After all, when she had first prescribed them, she had warned me how dangerous they were.

  Now, it seemed like she was just giving them to me without saying anything. Maybe she thought that I was a lost cause. I had thought that before. I had thought that she might just drop me as a patient before. I knew that I was a lot of work and that she might just get tired of me.