Shadow Suspect
Page 32
Drake leapt to his feet so quickly that his chair toppled behind him.
“You little shit,” he seethed. “You come in here with some bullshit story about some sort of copycat killer, then you have the gall to bring up Suzan? Was it that bastard Ivan Meitzer that put you up to this? Revenge for not giving him the Butterfly Killer story?”
Drake saw red and before he even realized what he was doing, he reached across the table and grabbed Eddie by the collar of his white polo shirt. He twisted the material in his hand, bringing Eddie’s face to within inches of his own.
“You get the fuck out of here—take your goddamn pictures and get the fuck out of here.”
He stared into the man’s wide eyes as he threatened him. When Eddie tried to look away, he tightened his grip on his shirt until his eyes came back to him.
Only then, after staring at the man’s watering eyes for the better part of a minute, did he shove the young doctor away.
Eddie fell back into his chair with a grunt, but then quickly stood, grabbed the folder and shoved it into his messenger back. Then, with a final, wistful glance, Dr. Edison Larringer scrambled out of the office, then through the reception area of Triple D Investigations, leaving both doors wide.
Drake fell back into his chair and sat there, breathing heavily as he watched the man go. Then he reached into his desk and pulled out the bottle of whiskey and glass again.
Seriously? Whoever put the kid up to this must have some serious balls to bring up Suzan.
As he poured himself another drink, the image of the psychiatrist whose nose he had broken outside Suzan’s school flashed in his mind.
When I find out who’s behind this, I’ll break more than his fucking beak.
Drake poured himself another drink, and when his blood pressure started to normalize, he found himself back at his computer again without even thinking about what he was doing.
Only this time he didn’t search for his own name, or Chase’s, and not even Suzan.
Instead, he searched for Beckett, and a photograph of his friend, smiling widely, his bleach blond hair spiked atop his head, was the first result that popped up.
CHAPTER 4
Dr. Edison ‘Eddie’ Larringer left Triple D Investigations with a single thought echoing inside his head.
This was a mistake—this was all a mistake.
He was sweating, he was tired, but most of all he was confused. It dawned on him that everything he had told Drake, everything that had been consuming all of his thoughts for the past six days, had been a fabrication.
It wasn’t unthinkable; in fact, it was even plausible given how exhausted he was. Beckett’s forensic pathology final exam was on Monday, and he was struggling just to stay afloat. If anything, Eddie was a realist; and if he was being honest with himself, he knew that he wasn’t going to pass. And one more fail meant that his entire career as a physician was in jeopardy. Which is why he had, after much moral anguish, broken into Dr. Campbell’s office.
He didn’t have to take the folder with the photographs that lay on Beckett’s desk, which at first had looked like hard copies of the final exam. After all, he didn’t need them—the USB key he had taken had digital versions embedded within the PowerPoint presentation. That was enough, more than enough, for Eddie to pass.
He didn’t need the folder.
In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure why he had taken it. He just had.
And now Eddie was beginning to think that this had been the biggest mistake of his life.
If only I hadn’t looked at the photographs. Things would be different if I had just burned the entire folder.
But he hadn’t. And once he looked, it was impossible for him to unlook.
At first blush, the digital and printed images looked nearly identical.
But they weren’t; they were just a little off. And when Eddie searched the Internet for accidental deaths over the last six months, he found the description of one that perfectly matched the image in the folder.
Only that image also matched the one from the course, which, considering the grainy texture of the photo in the PowerPoint, must have been taken years ago.
It wasn’t exemplary, it was nearly exactly the same. Textbook, in a way that defied logic.
Eddie just couldn’t believe that it was a coincidence.
Someone had taken a photograph of a recent crime scene staged to look exactly like the one used in the test.
And the only reason that someone would do this, in his opinion, was to cover up a murder.
Eddie quickly made his way across the parking lot to his worn Cavalier, and fumbled with his keys to open the door. It was already dark out, a fact that further added to his anxiety.
Once inside, he sat behind the wheel for several moments before starting the car.
Should I go to the police as Drake suggested? He wondered.
That, too, would lead to him failing his exam, of that Eddie was certain. After all, stealing a test from his professor’s desk would amount to more than just him staying behind to repeat a year of forensic pathology. NYU took plagiarism, theft, and cheating very, very seriously.
And so did the police.
If he went to the cops and admitted what he had done, it would mean that they would take away his medical license.
Eddie had thought about the bind he had gotten himself into for several sleepless nights. But when the young and pretty Suzan Cuthbert started to audit the class, it looked to him like a solution to his problem had fallen into his lap. After all, everyone knew what happened to Suzan’s father, and a little research on his part revealed information about his partner, about Damien Drake.
Surely, the man would help him out, would take him seriously, given that he knew Suzan. What he hadn’t planned for was the man’s temper.
Eddie’s eyes lifted to the rear-view, and he was shocked to realize that he barely recognized his own gaunt features.
“A mistake, this was all a big mistake,” he said in a dry croak. “A mistake.”
But try as he might, there was no way he could put the image of the man in the sweater, his body hunched over his own neck, out of his mind.
He couldn’t unsee.
It’s no coincidence. It can’t be.
Eddie reached for his keys and was about to put them in the ignition when a flash of movement in the mirror caught his eye.
“What the—”
But Dr. Edison Larringer didn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence. A dark figure rose from the back seat, and a thick piece of rope was wrapped around his throat.
He gasped, and reached for the ligature, but it was yanked tight, forcing the back of his head against the headrest. Eddie clawed desperately at the rope, trying to force his fingertips between the twine and the soft tissue of his neck, but it was no use.
It was just too tight.
As he gasped and desperately tried to fill his lungs with fresh air, he saw the door to Triple D Investigations swing open and the man himself step out into the parking lot.
Help me! Eddie tried to scream. Help me, Damien! Help me!
But no words came out.
And yet despite this, Drake seemed to pause for a moment, his face a sickly yellow in the streetlights, his eyes scanning the parking lot and street beyond.
Please, help me!
Eddie’s heart sunk when Damien shook his head and made his way to his own car.
Only seconds later, Dr. Edison Larringer’s entire world went dark.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents in this book are either entirely imaginary or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or of places, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © Patrick Logan 2017
Interior design: © Patrick Logan 2017
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, cannot be
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Tenth Edition: August 2017
Not all houses are made of brick and stone...
Robert Watts is having the worst day of his entire life: first he’s laid off, then he finds out that his wife is having an affair... with his boss no less. And that’s only the beginning.
Before the month is out, Robert finds himself alone to raise his daughter with no money, no job, and a house that is minutes from being repossessed. Just when he hits rock bottom, a strange visitor arrives at the doorstep of his soon to be foreclosed house with a letter from an Aunt he didn’t know existed.
The offer is simple: look after Aunt Ruth during her dying days, and in return Robert will be bequeathed the Harlop Estate in which she currently resides. It’s a no brainer and Robert jumps at the opportunity, equally motivated by the prospect of financial security as he is for a fresh start.
Problem is, it only takes a few nights in the Harlop Estate before he begins to question Aunt Ruth’s claims that they are the home’s only inhabitants...
It’s the scratching he hears during the night, the voices that he can barely make out over the constant rain, and then there’s the girl with the rat...
With their house foreclosed and their bank accounts liquidated, Robert and his daughter Amy desperately need a place to live. But the question Robert soon finds himself struggling with is whether living in the Harlop Estate is worth it... and if he can survive until Aunt Ruth passes to collect his inheritance.
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