Heartless: a Derek Cole Mystery Suspense Thriller (Derek Cole Suspense Thriller Book 1)

by T Patrick Phelps

  “Is he still alive?” his expected visitor asked from behind in his bedroom. Though Alexander was expecting company, he was disappointed with himself for not hearing his guest entering.

  “I’m afraid not,” Alexander said calmly. “My punch was a bit too forceful. I believe it crushed his skull.”

  “Those were two very costly mistakes, Alexander. Very costly. What the hell were you thinking?” his guest said as angrily brushed dirt off his pants and shirt.

  “I’m afraid I lost my temper,” Alexander replied.

  “Damn it,” his guest said. “This can’t happen again. Do you understand that? You can’t kill people just because you lose your damn temper. Do you know what a mess this creates? You have no idea what you just did to our plan.”

  “Has he arrived yet?”

  “Not yet,” his guest said, calmer. “Any minute now, I’m sure. I made it clear what time I expected him and also made clear the penalty for him not showing. He’ll be here.”

  “And when he does?” Alexander asked, turning to his guest.

  “You,” he said, pointing a stern finger directly at Alexander’s chest, “will not lay a finger on him. I don’t want you even in the same room with him.”

  “I understand, and I apologize that my actions disrupted your plan.”

  “It’s our plan, Alexander. You and I both benefit from our plan. Just don’t screw anything else up, and we’ll be fine.”

  “And when he arrives, the rest of the plan can continue?”

  “Of course. And I have a few surprises for you as well.”

  ************

  Roger Fay loved walking the southern shore of Piseco Lake. The leaves were reflected off the calm water, giving him double the pleasure. The summer air kept his thoughts clean and focused, and the unpolluted air filling his lungs revived his tired body.

  His walking route was about five miles and took Roger by some of the more elegant camps that lined the lake. His home was in one of the trailer parks in Higgins Bay, but he knew that one day one of his ideas would pay off, and he would be able to afford a house on the southern shore. For now, though, he was happy just to be walking in the peaceful surroundings.

  Roger needed to choke back an occasional tear when the memory of his recently separated wife entered his mind. He knew that they were never right for each other, and that they would probably last no more than five years. Six, if they were lucky. They separated three weeks after their fourth anniversary.

  As was his habit, Roger went out and bought himself a “cheer up” gift the day his wife told him that she was leaving him for another man. This time, his gift was an Australian Outback black leather hat, complete with mid-calf high, black cowboy boots. Whenever he felt depressed, Roger liked to spend money on things he didn’t need. To him, the action of buying purely based on desire gave him the feeling of control – that he still decided and directed his life. Though he had long wanted his new walking attire, he knew as he handed over his abused credit card that he didn’t need any new hats or boots, the latter of which ended up to be very uncomfortable for long-distance walking.

  As he turned the lazy corner that started back towards the lake, Roger saw a man walking his way. Being a longtime resident of Piseco Lake, Roger felt that he knew everyone who lived there year round and had at least seen most of the summer regulars. This man, Roger did not recognize.

  As he moved closer to the man, Roger realized that he had come from the doctor’s lodge. Though the lodge was not as busy as it had been a few years ago, he knew that vacationing doctors still could be seen relaxing on the two-level deck, walking the grounds, or visiting the local restaurants. Roger also knew that vacationing doctors often gave free advice. And considering what he was going through, he thought that a little pill and a few words of wisdom might be the ticket.

  ************

  Alexander was nearly finished gathering supplies when he decided he wanted to walk to the lake without the accompaniment of any doctors. The cool air felt wonderful against his pale skin as he opened the front door of the cabin. He peered cautiously around the grounds, making sure that no guests, expected or unexpected, were arriving. No one was seen.

  “No more than five minutes,” his guest’s demands came from behind him. “If he sees you, if anyone sees you, our plan is done. Five minutes.”

  The lake appeared more pleasing than ever as Alexander strolled quietly towards it. Off in the distance, he spotted someone walking towards him. Alexander angled his approach to the lake more directly, hoping to avoid the approaching stranger. When Alexander realized that there was no path to the lake that didn’t intersect with the stranger’s, he halted. He knew that turning tail and retreating back into the lodge could raise suspicion, and that meeting the stranger face-to-face would probably raise even greater suspicions. Alexander knew that his appearance was anything but normal. His gray, pale appearance made him look three weeks dead. Even a non-medically trained eye would realize that something was not right with him. As he saw the man approaching, Alexander scanned the area, making sure that no one else was in sight. He and the stranger were alone.

  As he was preparing his words for the could-be-doctor, Roger saw the man freeze in his tracks. After a few moments had passed, he heard the man call out to him. Roger was elated.

  “That is a fine hat you have there, sir. What style is it?”

  “It’s called an ‘outback,’” Roger answered, speeding his pace towards the doctor. “It’s directly from Australia.”

  “The boots as well?”

  “Yes, sir. Hey, are you a doctor? Because if you are, I sure would appreciate a little time.”

  There was no reply from the possible doctor. He was just staring at Roger as he moved within arm’s length. Roger immediately noticed the look in the man’s eyes and the pale complexion that surrounded the eyes. The man, who was probably not a doctor but certainly needed one, took another step closer to Roger, affording Roger a close look at something Roger wished he had never seen.

  “Hey look, I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I’ll be on….”

  Roger felt the hands shoving him backwards. The shove was powerful enough to send Roger stumbling off the road and crashing into a tree. Roger was not one to be intimidated. His size and strength gave him confidence in the face of violence. Once he regained his balance, he stood full framed to face the man.

  “What the hell, man! Are you nuts or something?”

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, I am nuts,” Alexander stilled himself to say. He then removed a butcher knife from a hidden sheath tucked into the back of his pants. The power he used to stab the knife into Roger’s throat was so forceful that the knife went clear through Roger’s throat and imbedded the first three inches of the knife into the tree behind Roger.

  Alexander quickly removed the hat from the pinned-to-a-tree man before any blood could stain it. Next he pulled the knife free and caught Roger in his arms before he collapsed to the ground.

  Alexander had decided to kill him once he realized that Roger was coming towards him. Alexander knew that his appearance would frighten the man and that he might go off and tell someone about the weirdo he saw at the lodge. All the doctors were quite good at reminding Alexander what the “unknowing public opinion” of his appearance would be.

  “They will never accept you, Alexander, because they can never understand you,” they said countless times.

  “If people see you or learn about you, they will take you away and treat you as nothing more than an object to be studied,” they reminded him.

  Alexander knew that he was being sloppy. He had been free for no more than 30 minutes, had already killed three people, with the third not being part of any plan that he and his accomplice had fine tuned for so many weeks. He didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself until he learned more of the unfamiliar world. All the books could not teach him what a few years of true living would.

  As he carried the body of the hat donor into the
lodge, he promised himself that he would temper his desire for revenge.

  “Time,” he said to himself as he dropped his hold on the hat donor, sending him crashing to the floor at the end of a trail of blood. “Time and patience.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  1992

  Doctor Mark Rinaldo knew that his wife, Gerti, hadn’t believed the story he told her yesterday about why he was late and why he would be late coming home again today. Though Mark believed that being honest, especially with his wife, was indeed the best policy, he found no way to tell her the truth about what he and the other doctors had experienced just one day ago.

  Mark sat at a high-top table in Shifts Lounge. Shifts was located within walking distance from Saint Stevens Memorial Hospital where Mark held the position of Chief of Medicine. The clientele of the lounge were almost exclusively hospital employees, and the lounge owner accommodated the hospital’s employees work schedule by opening at 7:00 a.m. and not closing till well after 3:00 a.m. each day.

  The lounge was decorated intentionally to not include reminders that its patrons would associate with the hospital. Besides a few photographs of Shifts owner posing with some nurses hanging on the narrow hallway leading to the restrooms, there were no other health care industry related pictures or items in the lounge. The owner had even made sure that the soap and cleaning supplies that were used in the lounge didn’t smell like those used in Saint Stevens.

  “What do you think is taking them so long?” Doctor Henry Zudak asked.

  “They’re not that late,” Mark said. “You have to expect some delays. Traffic can get pretty rough on Long Island, and it isn’t a picnic getting around Chicago this time of day, either. Relax.”

  “Relax?” Henry said. “I can’t believe that relaxing is possible.”

  Henry Zudak had been an obstetrician for seven years. In those seven years, he had seen plenty of surprises when his pregnant patients were lying on a hospital bed, legs held in stirrups, nervous husbands wondering if they should look south or north. However, what he had witnessed less than twenty-four hours ago was well beyond anything he would describe as a “surprise.”

  Ken O’Connell, a successful car dealership owner and entrepreneur, and his wife, Janet, arrived at Saint Stevens at 4:30 yesterday afternoon. They knew, as did their doctor, Henry Zudak, that Jan’s belly was full of not one, but two babies. So while she was just beginning her eighth month of her pregnancy, Henry wasn’t surprised or overly concerned that Jan was in full labor.

  Even the discovery that the twins were conjoined – choosing their chests to be their point of connection – didn’t shock Henry, though it was an unexpected development. Knowing that Jan would not be able to deliver the conjoined twins naturally, Henry had Stanley Mix, a talented surgeon and good friend of his, paged.

  “Not sure of their condition, but I could clearly see that the babies are connected at the chest,” Henry reported to Stanley.

  “I’ll get ‘em out,” Stanley said.

  The Cesarean section was quick. No complications. The neonatal nurse on duty quickly accessed the twins while Stanley closed up the five-inch incision.

  “Doctor?” the nurse said in a hushed voice to Stanley who was finishing suturing the baby’s exit passage.

  “Yes?” he answered.

  “Can you help me with something?”

  Stanley thought it was a strange request from a tenured nurse.

  As Stanley approached the nurse who stood beside the twins, he could read the concern deeply etched into her face.

  “Problem?” he asked.

  “I only hear one heart, and I can only get one baby to breathe. APGAR test score is a six. No breathing, no color.”

  She turned and gestured to one of the twins.

  “This baby has the heart. This one,” she said while placing her hands on the other twin, “is, I think, just going along for the ride.”

  Stanley examined the twins carefully, trying hard not to raise the already heightened concerns of the O’Connell’s.

  “I don’t think it’s going to be a very long ride,” he whispered. “Heart is too premature to handle one baby, let alone two. This may get ugly.”

  The time for quelling the fears of the O’Connell’s was over.

  “Ken and Jan,” Stanley said. Though Jan was heavily medicated, her fears made her fully aware. “I believe there’s a problem that we don’t have much time to solve.”

  The decision to do an emergency separation was difficult for the parents. It was not made until both Henry Zudak and Mark Rinaldo were asked to examine the twins and either agree with Stanley’s dire assessment or find a reason the reason to keep the babies joined.

  They both agreed with Stanley.

  There was no time to wait for a surgeon experienced in the type of surgery needed, so Mark asked Stanley to perform the procedure.

  “I’ll assist,” Mark said

  “I’ll need the extra hands,” Stanley replied as they scrubbed in.

  The procedure only took 40 minutes to separate the twins. Thomas, the twin lucky enough to claim possession of the heart and lungs, was quickly transferred to the Neonatal ICU, while Alexander was carefully and respectfully placed on a gurney and covered with a dazzlingly clean white sheet.

  “I’ll go speak with the O’Connell’s,” Mark said as he and Stanley finished the surgery. “Let Henry know what happened and ask him to keep an extra close eye on the other baby.”

  As he turned to leave, he felt the strong and sure grip of Stanley’s hand grab hold of his arm. The grip was stronger than Mark thought a grip should be.

  “Problem?” Mark asked.

  “Look,” Stanley said, gesturing to the baby covered in the white sheet. “It’s moving.”

  Mark broke free of Stanley’s grasp and removed the sheet covering the heartless baby. At first, Mark expected that the baby’s nerves were having one last run through the body. However, when Mark saw the child return his stare, it was Mark’s nerves that started running.

  “Give me a stethoscope,” Mark ordered.

  He checked closely for any signs of life, anything that Stanley and he may have missed.

  He found nothing.

  “No pulse, no breaths. Nothing,” Mark said.

  Mark quickly moved to the windows that separated the operating room from the observation area and drew the curtains closed. Only he and Stanley were in the operating room, the nurses having gone with the healthy twin to the ICU.

  “What are you doing?” Stanley asked.

  “Making sure that no one sees what the hell is going on in here.”

  “Mark, we need to get this baby...”

  “Get it where?” Mark interrupted. “Get it to ICU where they can say we screwed up, or get freaked out when they find out that this baby doesn’t have a heart? Or maybe we should bring it out to the O’Connell’s and tell them the good news, that despite not having a heart or lungs that the child they just decided had to be separated in order to save the other baby, is still alive? Where, Stanley? What do you propose we have to do?”

  “Mark, we have to tell someone.”

  Mark thought as he moved to lock the operating room door.

  “Maybe you should just leave. I don’t know what the hell I am going to do or even what I should do, but there’s no reason for you to get involved in whatever I come up with.”

  “And then what? Leave and pretend that nothing happened? Pretend that the baby died like it should have and that my chief of medicine isn’t hiding a living body somewhere in Chicago? What the hell, Mark? I can’t leave like this.”

  “I need time to think.”

  “We don’t have time, Mark.”

  “Call Henry. Tell him to get up here and to say nothing to anyone.”

  “Okay, but any second now the cleaning crew is going to try to do their job in this room, and finding the door locked and two doctors in the room will raise some eyebrows.”

  “I need time to think,” Mark said a
s he plowed his hands through his thinning, grey hair. “I need time to come up with something.”

  Both doctors heard the mumblings of men approaching the locked door. Their attempts to open the door prompted their knock and call.