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The Golden Ratio

Page 1

by Cole McCade




  CRIMINAL INTENTIONS

  SEASON TWO, EPISODE ONE

  “THE GOLDEN RATIO”

  COLE MCCADE

  Copyright © 2019 by Cole McCade.

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher / author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the address below.

  Cole McCade

  blackmagic@blackmagicblues.com

  Cover Artist: Cole McCade

  Cover Design Template: Les Solot

  www.fiverr.com/germancreative

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  The Arizona state correctional facility depicted in the story is fictional and not meant to represent any existing state-run location.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Pandora Bracelets, iPhone, LG, Platinum brand lubricant, IKEA, Camaro, Harley-Davidson, Facebook, YouTube, Vicodin, Oxycontin, Netflix, Glock, Beretta, HP, Windows, Doubletree Hotels, Suntrust, Untitled Goose Game, Pledge, iPad, NASCAR, Styrofoam, GrubHub, Neosporin, Petsmart, Bugs Bunny, Johnny Walker Blue, Criminal Minds, Dexter, Huey/Louie/Dewey Duck

  [TABLE OF CONTENTS]

  [CONTENT WARNING]

  [READING NOTE]

  [0: ALL FALL DOWN]

  [1: NOT HOLDING ON]

  [2: SEE MY SCARS]

  [3: DO WHAT YOU DO]

  [4: THE THINGS WE’VE DONE]

  [5: EVERY MOVE YOU MAKE]

  [6: YOUR HEAD WILL COLLAPSE]

  [7: WHY THE HELL CAN’T I]

  [8: NOW I’M NAKED]

  [9: DIE FOR ME]

  [10: LOVE IS A NOTION]

  [11: NOTHING PERSONAL]

  [12: WHAT YOU’RE ALL ABOUT]

  [13: THE PRICE OF YOUR GREED]

  [14: FLESH AND BONE]

  [15: MOVE SLOW]

  [16: WHERE MONSTERS HIDE]

  [X: I KNOW THAT YOU’RE EMPTY]

  [DISCOVER YOUR CRIMINAL SIDE]

  [PREVIEW: CI S2E2, ”IN SEQUENCE”]

  [SERIES Q&A WITH THE AUTHOR!]

  [AFTERWORD]

  [GET VIP ACCESS]

  [FOR REVIEWERS]

  [ACKNOWLEDGMENTS]

  [ABOUT THE AUTHOR]

  [FIND MORE CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE & EROTICA AS COLE MCCADE]

  [DISCOVER SCIENCE FICTION, FANTASY & HORROR AS XEN]

  [CONTENT WARNING]

  CONSIDERING THAT CRIMINAL INTENTIONS IS serialized in the form of episodic novels akin to a television series, I think it’s safe to rate this using U.S. FCC television standards and mark it TV-MA. Criminal Intentions follows multiple homicide investigations and, at times, can graphically depict the act or aftermath of attempted or successful murder.

  While it’s a given that a series about homicide investigations will describe actual homicides, it may be wise to review content warnings regarding the specifics of cases depicted in each episode.

  Particularly for Season Two, you may find the crimes enacted more graphic and grisly than many of the crimes in Season One, though in many instances I may choose to fade to black due to the similar nature of the violence by a single perpetrator, and only show the aftermath. That aftermath may still be quite graphic; let this serve as your warning.

  Content warnings for Season Two, Episode One, “The Golden Ratio” include:

  A scene in which potential victims are subjected to humiliation and debasement.

  Depiction of a high-intensity, high-stakes situation of tension and fear for one’s life in a highly psychologically manipulative scenario.

  Use of children’s imagery and iconography in a manner intended to inspire fear and disturb the reader.

  Characters releasing their bladders and bowels out of fear.

  Depiction of a body with a broken neck from blunt force trauma.

  Depiction of a body with its head pulverized from blunt force trauma.

  Use of a textual styling effect that removes the spaces from between words in a single sentence to convey a particular mode of speech, but may be difficult for some to parse/process.

  Depiction of bodily injury through blunt force trauma to the skull.

  Depiction of death through repeated and violent assault and battery.

  Recollection of aromisic behavior in past relationships, and fears of a current friends-with-benefits arrangement potentially turning aromisic.

  Mention of divorce in a main character’s history, with the ex present on page.

  Depiction of flashbacks with graphically described reactions to addiction withdrawals and pain.

  Presence of potential jealousy in a relationship through the presence of a former partner, including needling by said former partner.

  Discussion of a past relationship involving power dynamics between a senior and a subordinate in both rank and age.

  Recollection of previous grievous bodily injuries incurred in S1.

  Recollection of the manipulative behavior that took place in S1.

  Repeated mention of flashbacks to heroin addiction and usage, including discussing the long-term effects, cravings, and impact on ability to deal with work-related trauma, as well as a specific scene showing the effect of recovering from injury without medication during a period of withdrawals.

  Mention of a main character previously smoking and depiction of a side character actively smoking.

  Repeated stressing of PTSD reactions from dealing with a particularly shocking and gruesome case.

  Depiction of a lax prison environment that allowed for abuse of the prisoners.

  Extremely graphic depiction of bodily dissection and dismemberment, including discussing details of kill methods and observing media of multiple highly grotesque crime scenes, as well as observing fresh crime scenes in person. Trust me. You think you’re ready for this. You’re not. It’s explicit, bloody, grisly, and disturbing, and includes skinned bodies, inappropriate use of the skin, exsanguination, etc. The story also depicts main characters having traumatic, shocked reactions to these incidents in deep emotional detail. Be aware of chapters three, five, and six in particular.

  Additional note: The desecration of the bodies is particularly sensitive from the perspective of a non-practicing Mizrahi Jewish character who was raised in Jewish practices re: not defiling the flesh, either living or dead.

  Discussion of various expressions of everyday mental illnesses such as anxiety, depression, and OCD.

  Discussions of Dark Triad and ASPD psychopathology.

  Use of dog training and control paraphernalia on a human in a way meant to demean.

  Depiction of an inmate suffering from severe psychological trauma and neglect, as well as the use of the prison system as an unofficial mental health holding facility.

  Depiction of suspect interrogations using psychological principles that may border on or verge into emotional manipulation.

  Mention of a mass shooting with high-volume casualties.

  Depiction of a high-intensity suspect hostage and confrontation scene.

  Depiction of death by stabbing.

  Depiction of a main POV character experiencing a dissociative episode.

  Discussion of blackmail threatening a minor.
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br />   Depiction of consenting cis male / cis male penetrative sex without protection, including exchange of bodily fluids.

  Recollection of a miscarried pregnancy and the strife caused by grief in a marriage.

  Depiction of a main character consuming alcohol to the point of intoxication and incapacitation in a safe environment with assistance from a supportive presence.

  Recollection of a racially motivated mass murder-suicide involving racist propaganda and mutilation of victims, including specific mention of the murder of a young child.

  Recollection/discussion of vomiting.

  Content warnings for the S2E2 preview include:

  Recollections of adultery.

  Recollections of divorce.

  Recollections of temptation to adultery.

  Recollections of childhood abuse from the POV character.

  Thoughts of current childhood anxiety issues from the POV character about her son.

  Depiction of extensive scarring implying a prior attack and associated trauma.

  Recollection of objectification of the scarring.

  Fear-induced self-urination.

  Recollection of nightmares of being stalked by a past assaulter.

  Depiction of a PTSD reaction making it impossible to fight back or flee.

  Death of a female victim by a male perpetrator.

  Implied death by mutilation with a sharp object.

  Content warnings for the afterword include:

  Discussions of gun violence.

  Discussions of stigma against mental illness.

  Discussions of mental health treatment and inadequacy of existing care structures.

  Use of the ableist word “cr*zy.”

  Discussions of the distinction between violence caused by untreated mental illness and violence caused by hatred, bigotry, and indoctrination.

  Discussion of various expressions of everyday mental illnesses such as anxiety, depression, and OCD.

  Discussions of Dark Triad and ASPD psychopathology.

  Please read at your discretion, and make whatever decisions are best for you regarding content that may or may not be safe for you.

  Take care of yourselves, loves.

  –C

  [READING NOTE]

  THE CHARACTER SADE MARCUS USES the pronouns they/them/their as their preferred gender-neutral pronouns for a genderqueer and two-spirit person from the Lumbee nation. They also use the gender-neutral honorific “Mx.” rather than the gendered “Mr.” “Ms.” or “Mrs.” such as when Seong-Jae refers to them as Mx. Marcus.

  [0: ALL FALL DOWN]

  CARSON MILLER NEVER SHOULD HAVE taken this fucking job.

  He’d just wanted something easy while he finished community college. Something that at least paid enough to keep food on the table and be able to buy his kids their school supplies; something that would take the edge off their debt so his wife wouldn’t have to shoulder the heaviest burden of the bills while he finally got his vocational degree as an electrician and graduated from crappy minimum wage jobs to something with more permanence.

  He wasn’t the smartest guy, maybe, but he was working damned hard. He’d gotten his GED, at least, and that had been enough for the Arizona State Department of Corrections.

  They didn’t need a rocket scientist to stand guard.

  And they didn’t need a genius to keep a few hundred low-threat prisoners in line.

  Minimum security prisons were practically the uglied-down versions of country clubs, anyway. Babysitting a bunch of assholes who’d gotten themselves locked up for anywhere from six months to ten years on minor charges, watching while they ate better than Carson’s family in the prison cafeteria and sweating in the fucking sun in full uniform while they stripped down to play basketball on the recreation court and laughed like they were on goddamned vacation.

  Still, at least they were harmless. He’d rather play nanny for a group of tired assholes taking a break from illegal gambling or selling gray market prescription drug knockoffs to chronic illness patients than deal with the hard cases in maximum security prison.

  Numbnuts in this nowhere facility in this nowhere town twenty miles outside of Phoenix just wanted to enjoy their government-sponsored vacation, while Carson just wanted to stay long enough to be eligible for performance bonuses that might take the edge off his student loans.

  Though after today, AZ State better pay him more than a goddamned bonus.

  They’d better pay for his fucking life.

  If he still had one left when this was over.

  Right now he wasn’t quite sure he would, when he was standing in the warden’s office in nothing but his underwear, his arms zip-tied behind his back while this fucker in a rabbit mask skipped down the row of near-nude, trembling prison guards.

  And sang.

  “Eenie, meenie, mini, mo,” he lilted, pitching his voice in a high falsetto and timing his high-stepping strides to them, the ears on the rubber white rabbit mask wobbling, his orange jumpsuit flapping.

  With each word he pointed the baton in his hand at one of the guards, going down the line of a dozen, a witness lineup of pot bellies and farmers’ tans and wiry chest hair and skidmarked tighty whiteys and the embarrassment of black knee socks and sock garters.

  On mo the white rabbit landed on Huey Loughton, the prick who guarded the block over from Carson’s and usually stole bits of his lunch from the break room. Huey flinched, his soft chin wobbling as he tried to shrink away—only for the inmate standing at his back, rifle in hand, to prod the mouth of it into the base of his spine.

  Jesus, Carson thought. Fucking Jesus.

  These creeps couldn’t just take the chance for a prison break and run.

  They had to turn it into some kind of sick game.

  The white rabbit’s head turned toward him. Carson jerked his gaze forward, lifting his chin, staring straight ahead and trying not to give away just how deeply he was trembling, even if he couldn’t stop the slime of sweat gathering in his armpits and running down his forehead, his cheeks, his neck, his back. Goddammit. Goddammit. The white rabbit had been at this for half an hour, but he hadn’t landed on Carson yet.

  Please not me, he thought. Please not me. I got kids. They need me.

  Please, please…not me.

  Anyone but me.

  He felt that scrutiny on him, drilling, cutting into him like the white rabbit was flaying his flesh open, before the pressure relieved.

  When Huey whimpered.

  Whimpered, and drew that eerie plastic gaze back to him.

  “Catch a tiger by his toe,” the white rabbit said, his voice hollowed by the mask, though the way he spoke was so strange and sing-song and liquid that Carson wasn’t sure who it was; which one of these jumpsuit country club mother fuckers was taking his revenge. “Now…why do you think it’s a tiger? I’ve touched a tiger’s toe, you know. It’s really quite a fascinating feeling. Eenie, mini, mini, mo.” He broke off in a giggle, then, and trailed into a high-pitched keen of, “Ring around the rooooseeey, pocket full of pooosieees—sing it!”

  “A-ashes, ashes,” Carson stammered out, his throat locked tight, a dozen other voices around him echoing in the same trembling whimper. They’d learned what would happen if they didn’t. Warden Munchausen’s body on the ground told them quite clearly, his neck cocked at an unnatural angle, his tongue protruding from his death-swollen lips, his eyes bulging, just one hard whack with that baton and he’d gone down with his limbs jerking. The air smelled like shit and piss, and Carson didn’t know if he was smelling Munchausen’s voided body or if someone had finally plopped themselves with cold-quivering terror. “We all f-fall down.”

  “Very good.” From the corner of his eye, Carson watched as the white rabbit prodded the center of Huey’s chest with his baton, then turned away, jauntily making his way down the line. “One potato, two potato—” Pointing again and again, counting them out, the baton an accusing finger. “—three potato, four.”

  Carson suck
ed in his breath as three potato landed on him, then skipped past to Wilkins on his right on four. Wilkins closed his eyes, shaking right down to his skinny ankles, his lips peeling back in wet-trembling sobs and baring his teeth. Wilkins was even newer than Carson, just out of high school, barely on the job three months, and the smell of piss was definitely coming from the puddle forming around his socks and shining down his bare legs.

  “P-please,” Wilkins whimpered. “P-please…don’t…”

  The white rabbit leaned in, nose twitching, staring at Wilkins. Wilkins cringed back, turning his face aside, but slowly peeled one eye open, staring at the white rabbit sidelong. The rabbit craned his head from side to side, leaning in closer, forcing himself into Wilkins’ face while the boy flinched back and forth, turning this way and that and yet trying to hold his shoulders perfectly stiff.

  For just a moment longer, the white rabbit stared, fixed and motionless.

  Then let out a disdainful snort, poking Wilkins in the stomach.

  “Not you,” the rabbit said, while Wilkins let out a strange and tiny scream. “No. But you—”

  White rubber swelled to fill Carson’s vision, shoving close so abruptly he nearly stumbled, tried to jerk his arms to catch his balance, reeled back when his bound wrists stopped him. Breathing shallowly through his teeth, he froze as the white rabbit stared at him, so close he could smell the fresh-manufactured rubbery neoprene scent of the mask and make out the molded grooves forming ridges like tufts of fur. The rabbit’s eyes were large and cartoonish, blue, but at the center of the dark pupils was a wire mesh that let a glint of something else peer out.

 

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