by Dale Mayer
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Books in This Series
About This Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Excerpt from Simon Says… Scream
Author’s Note
Complimentary Download
About the Author
Copyright Page
Books in This Series
The Kate Morgan Series
Simon Says… Hide, Book 1
Simon Says… Jump, Book 2
Simon Says… Ride, Book 3
Simon Says… Scream, Book 4
About This Book
Introducing a new thriller series that keeps you guessing and on your toes through every twist and unexpected turn….
USA Today Best-Selling Author Dale Mayer does it again in this mind-blowing thriller series.
The unlikely team of Detective Kate Morgan and Simon St. Laurant, an unwilling psychic, marries all the unpredictable and passionate elements of Mayer’s work that readers have come to love and crave.
Detective Kate Morgan is hot on a new confusing case. A cyclist is killed at the main intersection to the University of British Columbia. At first glance it looks like a hit-and-run, but, as details emerge, it gets much more complicated.
From one day to the next, Simon is blinded by an overload of senses and noises. It’s impacting his regular business day, and he seems unable to control when and how these moments occur. Angry and frustrated, he tells Kate but knows she’s unable to help. How can she, when he can’t help himself?
As Kate struggles to work her way through a gang of arrogant university students, reluctant parents, a defensive dean, and way too many unobservant witnesses, she finds a disturbing pattern of more “accidents” and more victims …
Then finally Simon understands why his senses are on overload … and flips the investigation around.
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Chapter 1
Mid-August in Vancouver
Two weeks ago Kate Morgan had had a couple days off, and those two days she’d spent with Simon St. Laurant now seemed like a hell of a long time ago. She groaned.
Rodney looked up at her. “What’s the matter now?”
“This stupid case. I’m still tracking down more of the suicides.”
“I know.” He nodded. “All we really can do is give the families closure at this point in time.”
“At least that asshole pedophile in our other case is dead and gone.”
“Exactly. And nobody will mourn Ken’s death.”
She sighed. “Somebody like that, I just assume we toss his file and carry on.” She looked around. “Where is everybody?”
“Lilliana’s running late, as she’s been at the dentist all morning. Andy’s off for the day. Owen’s here somewhere.”
Just then, Dispatch called her. “We’ve got a DB at the entrance to UBC. Female.”
“On the walkway?”
“Sounds like it’s just outside university grounds—at the intersection on one of the bike paths,” the dispatcher said. “I’m sending you the exact location.”
“Crap.” Kate hopped to her feet. “Hey, Rodney, we’ve got a woman down on the bike path at the university.”
“Out by UBC? Shouldn’t RCMP have that?”
“This one is a homicide at the intersection leading to University Boulevard, so it’s ours either way.” At his look of surprise, she added, “Vehicular homicide. She’s been run over. Time to rock and roll.”
Rodney stood and grabbed his jacket. “Another woman was struck by a vehicle up in that area about a year ago.”
She stopped and stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well”—he shrugged—“it’s not like it’s unusual, since that’s a high-traffic spot.”
“Isn’t that also where they do bike-racing training?”
“They do some of it there. I mean, the UBC campus is full of trails and tracks, so it’s perfect for a lot of this stuff. Plus, with all the jogging runs up there, it’s great for fitness training.”
“Hmm,” she said. “So you’re thinking it was a full year ago since the last one?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I just want to make sure that we don’t have like three in a row.” She frowned. “Nothing like a serial killer coming back to mark time.”
He looked at her with added respect. “I’ll look it up.”
“Do that. The last thing we need is another ugly story to mar the beauty of this place.”
“You know that there will always be another ugly story.” Rodney and Kate walked to her car, heading to the location in minutes, as he dug into his coffee and his cell, while she drove.
“I know,” she said. “One of these days I keep thinking we’ll have paradise here.”
“Paradise is what you make it.” He laughed.
By the time they drove up to the outskirts of the university campus, it was much later than she would have liked. The place was awash with law enforcement, traffic, and the always-present curious crowd. She parked near all the cruisers. The coroner was already on-site. “Looks like we’re last to arrive. How did that happen?”
He looked up from his phone and frowned. “We did hit a spot of traffic on the way over. All because of that fender bender snarling things up.”
“I guess.” She nodded at his phone and the records he was pulling. “Did you find anything?”
“Hmm.” He bent his head again, while she hopped out.
She came around, leaned in through his window, and asked, “What did you find, Rodney?”
“Nothing good.” His tone was grim.
She shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“You were asking about a third?”
“Yeah …” Her heart was already sinking.
“How about a fourth and a fifth?”
“What the hell? Where?” she asked.
He replied, “All within a couple blocks of here. And … all of them on this same weekend. One a year for the last five years.”
She stared at him. “Shit.” Just then her phone rang. She looked down at a text from Simon, just saying, Call me, her stomach dive-bombing at the timing, yet calling him. “Hey, what’s up?” she asked. “I’ve just arrived at a crime scene.”
“I know, and all I’m seeing are bikes, bikes, bikes, and more bikes.”
“Yeah, how many of them?”
“Right now, I’d say five.”
She swore. “Great.” She sighed heavily. “Apparently I’m at a crime scene in an area where crimes of the same kind occurred every year for the last five years, on this very weekend.”
Dead silence came first on the other end, and then she heard Simon’s weary voice. “You’ll track this one down, I presume?”
“I won’t have a choice,” she said.
He whispered, “Neither do I.”
“Any help you can give me?” she asked.
“No,” he murmured, “not yet. But it’ll come. Don’t worry. It’ll come.”
At that, she hung up, nodding, a grim exp
ression on her face..
Chapter 2
Kate wasn’t sure what to think of Simon’s message. Even Rodney didn’t know what to make of it, even though he’d heard part of it. She looked down at him, still seated in her car. “Can you send that search to me, please?”
He nodded. As soon as he was done, he hopped from the vehicle, and they both stared at the people everywhere, on both sides of the street, in the street, and generally getting in the way. Cops were moving everyone back, but it took some work.
“Of course we’ve got a massive crowd.” She pushed her hair off her forehead. “I’ll start with the body.” She headed to the coroner, who already leaned over the dead woman’s body. He had pulled back a sheet, covering her to her waist. “Well, Dr. Smidge?”
He looked up at her and glared. She glared right back. He sighed and sat back on his heels. “You know that I’m not quite adjusted to seeing your face at all these scenes yet.”
“I’m in homicide now.” She shrugged. “I’ll be on most of them, so get used to it.”
“It’s like you’re a harbinger of bad news. You and the other members of the team—and I see a lot of them around too,” he snapped, “but somehow they don’t give me that same ugly feeling.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Thanks, Doc. You don’t really think I’ve got anything to do with this, do you?”
“No, of course not.” He shook his head. “That would be stupid. But it seems like you have a nose for trouble. The kind of trouble that doesn’t solve easily.”
“I’m not so sure. This one could be easier. Although—” She stopped and shook her head. “No, we, … we don’t know that.”
“No, you don’t, and the minute you start getting cocky about it—”
“I’m not cocky,” she interrupted, speaking quietly, wondering why all the doctors in the coroner’s office were so cranky. “But according to a search that Rodney just did, several other vehicular homicides have occurred annually in this area over the last few years.”
“I wouldn’t put more into that than it will carry. University students ride bikes, a lot of them, faculty too. So there is bound to be a higher occurrence of accidents than in other areas. Plus, many ride their bikes while under the influence.”
At that, she winced. “That’s not a smart idea.”
“No, it’s not,” he snapped. “I’ve seen way-too-many kids do stupid shit. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve thought about wringing their necks. But I’d like to do it before they end up on my slab.”
“That would be nice, but it never seems to work that way.”
“No, it doesn’t. They do what they think is a great idea at the time, and then, when they wake up—or don’t wake up—the family is left pondering the choices they made. And so many times it was either while under the influence or otherwise having fun with their friends on a dare. Then it’s left to the rest of us to clean up the mess they made.” A tone of belligerence filled his words.
She wondered how many that he’d had to deal with lately. Her job was tough sometimes, and she hadn’t been on the job all that long. She’d been a cop for a long time, but she had only been a homicide detective for about five months now. She looked down at the body. She found it easier than looking at the doctor’s face and seeing all the lines and creases this job had put there. He was a good man, and he worked damn hard, but, at some point in time, the job got to you. She studied the dead young woman and understood his mood. “What is she, eighteen?”
“The older I get, the more I can’t tell age, but, as we ID her, we’ll nail that down. Probably a student here at the university.”
“And what? Just riding her bike and not looking?”
“That would make it an accident, and you and your partner wouldn’t be here.”
“That depends.” She stared at the coroner, waiting for more information.
“Hey, I’m not here to argue about what the charges will end up being, if any even are, but I’m telling you that just because other people died from bike wrecks around here doesn’t mean there is some great mystery.”
“Meaning that I shouldn’t make too much of the five-year annual repeat within these few blocks?”
“Exactly. All kinds of problems, all kinds of things can go wrong, and it’s got nothing to do with murder.”
“We got called in for some reason,” she noted. “We don’t generally catch traffic cases, even the bad ones.”
“Well now, young lady, that could be because of this.” He tilted the young woman’s head ever-so-slightly.
Kate leaned over so she could see it better, and she stared, shocked. “Is that a bullet hole?”
He nodded grimly. “Yes. She was shot first. And I bet the other cases don’t match that.”
“I have no idea. I have yet to look at them, but this is definitely not what I expected.”
“No one ever does. This is definitely your case now,” he muttered. “God help you.”
“Why? Do you think it’ll be ugly?”
“Anything to do with a young person is tough,” he explained, “and the university is pretty protective of their people, and you’ll have to deal with that bureaucracy as well. Although this isn’t on campus grounds, so you won’t have to bring the RCMP into it.”
“Can’t say I’m too worried about that aspect. I’ll get answers no matter who’s in my way.”
He let out a short bark. “That’s always your attitude, isn’t it?”
“I don’t mean it to be, but I do tend to get in trouble for being on the short-tempered side.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll get some answers, and that is what we need right now. Good luck with it.” He sat back on his heels and glared down at the young woman.
Kate knew Dr. Smidge wasn’t seeing the actual body in front of him. He was viewing the devastation and the wastefulness caused by whoever had chosen to take this young woman’s life. Kate reached down, gently pulled the soft red hair off the victim’s face, and whispered, “Such a waste.”
“Indeed,” he said, with regret. “I’m taking her now. I’ll look after her.” And, with that, he stood and went over to talk to his team.
She stepped back, looked around at the crowd, and found Rodney, talking with a group of young women. Kate joined them to hear him asking about anything they might have seen. And, of course, they hadn’t seen anything. She moved through the crowd herself, asking questions, taking names and contact information, getting explanations as to why people were here.
More often than not, they were just gawkers, interested in something different that had happened, something that added a bit of dash and verve to their monotonous lives, even though it was terrible news for somebody else. Like always, as long as it wasn’t bad news for them, everybody was fascinated. Murder had a way of doing that to people. Something was horrifically mesmerizing about it.
As Kate moved through the throng, she hoped the crowd would dissipate—but not before she took photographs of the bystanders and potential witnesses. She had noted street cameras here, but there was also construction going on which could complicate things. What she really needed was to find out if anybody had heard or seen the shooter—without mentioning the shooter first. She had to be careful with her questioning of witnesses, so as not to influence their recollection.
The bullet hole already made this case something very unusual. The question now was, did the vehicle kill her, or had she died from the gunshot and then swerved off into the oncoming traffic? Had she been hit because she was already down on the ground?
Kate knew the coroner would have to help them sort some of that out. The roads were freshly rained on, and she saw no tire tracks, although she took several photographs of the roadway for her own use as well. As she stood here, turning in a slow circle, studying the remnants of the crowd definitely shifting away, Rodney joined her.
“Nobody saw nothing,” he said in disgust.
“Was she alone?”
“Nobody’s stepping up t
o say they were with her.”
“No, of course not.”
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I am. Listen. What you need to know is that she was shot.”
He stared at her, shocked. She pointed to the back of her own head, where the bullet had gone in. “It’s tiny, so probably a .22. Or”—thinking about it—“it could even be one of those new BB guns. You know? The air guns or whatever they are.”
“Whatever it was, it certainly changes things, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe,” she murmured. “Though it cements our role. Somebody targeted her, and, whether the vehicle was a part of it or not, I don’t know.”
“I wonder if the other cases have anything to do with this?”
“I have no idea.” She turned to look at him. “We’re a little short on information. Yet we can’t ask anybody about hearing gunfire, without giving that tidbit away.” She paused. “Unless the killer used a silencer.”
He nodded. “Yeah, but what we aren’t short on is bodies.” He looked down at his witness notes. “One of the women said that a group of young men and women—five or six, she thought—were here, and they had all been there before her death and headed over to the pizza parlor for lunch.”
Kate stared at him. “So, you watch somebody die, hang around to look at the body, and you get hungry?”
“Hey, absolutely no way you’ll bring me into that discussion. You know it takes all kinds of people.”
“That it does. That it does. We’ll have to hit them when we’re finished with all these people here.”
“It’s just amazing,” he muttered, “how observant some people are. Somebody said that they came upon her, saw her on the ground, and called it in.”
“We had four different 9-1-1 calls, I think,” she muttered, “if I remember that right. I’ll run it, so we can make sure we catch everybody.”
“And, of course, so many people don’t like to give any information at all.”
“I’ve never understood that,” she said.
“They don’t want to get involved. It’s easy enough to understand, I guess. All these questions. It’s … an unfamiliar experience for most everybody, so nobody wants to bother.”
