Deadly Deception (Deadly Series)

by Beck, Andrea Johnson

  Deadly Deception

  Andrea Johnson Beck

  Copyright © 2012 by Andrea Johnson BeckDeadly Deception, 1st Edition

  Lophan Publishing

  ISBN 10- 0615771394

  IBSN 13 9780615771397 (Lophan Publishing)

  ASIN: B00A9HSTOI

  Suspense Romance

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  Printed in the USA

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Special thank you to my fabulous editing team

  Melissa Hofpar – Composed Success

  Maggie Jacobsen

  Jennifer Ruzicka

  Betsey Mercado

  Amber Bruns

  Cover: Phil & Logan Beck

  An uber thank you to my husband and son who have suffered for many months with a lack of clean clothes and dishes because I just had to write one more page. To my parents who encourage me daily, and listen to my irrational rants about throwing my laptop out the window and then setting it on fire. To my sister from another nutty mother, we may not be blood-related but I know you will never let me drip snot, especially in front of others. To my stellar editors, Melissa, Maggie, Jennifer, Betsey and Amber, you are my comma crack-whipping squad. To ALL my family and friends who have encouraged, supported and pushed me, you are all amazing and I am truly blessed.

  To my hero, my inspiration, my son, Logan. It is indeed, the best day ever! To my love, my best friend, my husband, Phil. It’s Scotland or bust.

  He who has made it a practice to lie and deceive his father, will be the most daring in deceiving others. - Horace

  Chapter 1

  “Ten…nine…eight…,” the deep voice lulled Dr. Anne Jamison out of the dark that surrounded her subconscious. “Seven…six…five…four…three…two…one. Come back to me, Anne.”

  Her green eyes fluttered rapidly, attempting to regain focus of her stark white surroundings that were layered with a post-hypnotic haze.

  “How do you feel Anne?” Dr. David Lindsey asked while perched across from her in his leather chair.

  Her mouth was dry and she felt disoriented but oddly calm. Dr. Lindsey adjusted his wire-rim glasses as he began to jot something down on his steno pad.

  “I don’t feel any anxiety,” Anne finally replied, looking toward the skyline backdrop.

  She stood and began walking toward the wall of windows. She straightened out her black pencil skirt and placed her flushed forehead against the wintery glass. Anne gazed twenty-two stories down at the hustling morning traffic, watching the cars maneuver through the maze of downtown Minneapolis. Her hot breath fogged the glass, clouding the image; she began playing with the string of pearls draped across her slender neck.

  “That’s great. I know that you want to remain off your medication. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Lindsey asked.

  “Today,” Anne repeated in statement form, exhaling deeply.

  Carter Leeds had vanished three years earlier and had been presumed dead. She and Carter had shared a dysfunctional, volatile but passionate relationship for nearly a year and a half.

  “Anne? I know that you are still having nightmares. Did you have one last night?”

  Anne could feel Dr. Lindsey’s question burn in the back of her skull. She left the pearls alone and turned back to him. His salt and pepper hair reflected the harsh fluorescents that beamed above them. He reminded Anne of her psych professor in college, with a mid-life crisis allure. But Dr. Lindsey treated her more like broken child than a sexy pupil.

  “No, I actually slept quite well last night.”

  Her long blonde strands became entangled with the necklace. Wincing, she pulled the knotted piece free.

  “You must be quite ecstatic about your recent engagement,” Dr. Lindsey said.

  She stroked the three-carat princess-cut solitaire with her index finger. She watched the ballet of colors dance inside the diamond with illuminated grace. Her fiancé, Adam Whitney, was her savior. He pulled her from the depths of her self-torment, breathing new life into her; retrieving her from the brink of darkness.

  “I’m quite happy indeed, Dr. Lindsey, though I do at times feel that uneasiness, that lack of closure.” Anne could feel the flushed emotion rising just below the surface of her skin.

  “You must remove yourself from that liability. Carter led a reckless lifestyle. You can’t blame yourself for his actions.”

  “I know, but how do you truly have closure when there is no body? How do you say farewell to a poster-sized picture draped with sympathy bouquets?”

  “Anne, Carter is gone. He’s not coming back and you need to start focusing on the future. Focus on you and Adam.”

  Dr. Lindsey’s expression softened as he placed the steno pad down on the wooden coffee table between them.

  Anne stopped fidgeting at the band of her pomegranate-hued cardigan and glanced at her watch. She stood up and reached for her black purse and matching trench coat, ending the session a few minutes early.

  “Maybe you should take the day…” Before Dr. Lindsey could finish, Anne’s hand was up in protest.

  “Absolutely not, I’m a big girl, and these children need help. I can handle it. They can’t.”

  Without further argument, Dr. Lindsey stepped toward the door and opened it to the reception area, ushering Anne through.

  “Take care, Anne.” He squeezed her arm and turned toward the young man who was his next appointment.

  Anne waved to the brunette receptionist who was also Dr. Lindsey’s daughter. She hurried out the glass door and into a narrow hallway. Her heels clicked against the tan tile, echoing off the vintage walls. Her own self-produced breeze flowed through her loose curls as they bounced with her quickened step; she knew Casey would be waiting for her. Anne took her final turn and there stood Casey Adler, best friend extraordinaire and colleague, with one hand on her hip and the other holding a latte. Her hourglass shape filled the grey and white leopard sheath dress perfectly, evoking the style of Marilyn Monroe. She raised an aggravated eyebrow to Anne.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Well, good morning to you too,” Anne replied.

  Casey yanked Anne’s cell phone from the open pocket in her purse and held it up.

  “I called and texted you a dozen times. Where have you been and don’t lie to me, Anne. We’ve been friends since college and I know when you are lying!”

  “I had an appointment with Dr. Lindsey and, before you even start white-couching me, I am perfectly fine, okay?”

  Anne snatched her phone back, throwing it into her purse and eyeing Casey’s reaction.

  “I promise I won’t, but I’m just worried about you. I don’t buy into all this hypnosis crap and your stopping your anxiety medication makes me nervous,” Casey said, brushing her flaxen bangs to the side.

  “I know you hate that I stopped taking my medication but I feel so much better, freer of all those self-loathing emotions. Adam deserves a fiancé that doesn’t need to take a pill to bury all that unnecessary baggage.”

  “You shouldn’t have to bury anything. What happened was not your fault.”

  A brief flash of sorrow circled Anne, as her best friend was giving her the same look that she had the day she confirmed there had been two deaths. />
  “Enough of this, let’s talk about this.” Anne beamed as she held up her brand-new stunning accessory. Casey grabbed her hand to examine the rock.

  “Gorgeous darling!” She said in her best British accent.

  They entered their office in a lighter mood. Their assistant Shelly sat prepping moss green patient folders while twirling a piece of loose white hair that had fallen from her bun. Anne and Casey chimed a good morning greeting in unison which made all three of them laugh.

  “Good morning. Here are your messages. Dr. Jamison, I have a package here for

  you. It was next to the door when I arrived.”

  Shelly passed the large manila envelope to Anne over the chest-high ledge. Anne examined the envelope, carefully trying to locate some clues of its sender. In bold black on the front, it read:

  Dr. Jamison

  Confidential

  She could feel rectangular contents inside as they slid under her curious fingertips.

  “It’s probably from someone in the building.”

  She found the package odd but was not alarmed. She tucked the mystery envelope under her arm and headed to her office. She read the name plate on the door.

  “Dr. Anne Jamison - soon to be Dr. Anne Whitney,” Anne whispered, running her fingers along the indented gold letters.

  She stepped in to her space, putting all the contents that were in her arms on the lavender plush couch. Anne was one of the youngest neuropsychiatric doctors in Minnesota. She was dubbed the female Doogie Howser M.D. in the psychiatric world. All Anne ever wanted to do was fix her mother, fix her insanity – but she was too late. She shook the grim memories and looked over at her black and white canvas prints of Stone Arch Bridge and Cowles Conservatory against the exposed brick wall. She took in a cleansing breath and let it go. She was now ready to psycho-analyze the adolescents of the city.

  ***

  Anne finished her session with thirteen-year-old Alice Harper and began vocalizing her notes to a mini recorder.

  “Alice is bipolar and has been on and off various medications over the years. She is the perfect candidate for the Mayo Clinic’s brain study on genetic factors of mental disorders. Can they be suppressed with direct injection of medication to the brain tissue?”

  Anne thought of her mother once again; she would have been an ideal candidate as well. She dismissed it and then realized that her phone was still on silent.

  “Crap!”

  Anne retrieved her phone from her purse that still sat on the couch. Besides the missed calls and texts from Casey, there were five new ones from Adam.

  Good morning babe. I missed you.

  Why did you leave so early?

  Anne blushed at the memory of her behavior as she snuck out of Adam’s townhome like a wham bam thank you ma’am.

  Are you ignoring me?

  Is this about last Friday night?

  You aren’t answering your phone so I called your

  office and Shelly said you are with a patient. At

  least I know you are alive. Please call me.

  I love you Anne.

  Quickly Anne tapped his name in her contacts.

  “Anne, are you all right?” Adam asked after answering on the first ring.

  “I’m fine. I’m sorry, I forgot that my phone was on silent,” she replied.

  “I was worried that you were panicking about our engagement.” His voice was slightly heightened.

  “No. Absolutely not. I wouldn’t have said yes if I wasn’t one hundred percent certain. I love you, Adam,” Anne replied reassuringly.

  “Why did you leave so early? You didn’t even say good bye.” Adam was wounded by her disappearing act; she could hear it in his voice.

  “I had a new patient this morning and I wanted to go over her chart, plus, you looked so peaceful sleeping I didn’t want to disturb you.” Anne felt warm inside at the recollection of her fiancé lying next to her, shirtless, exposing his faultless muscles.

  “Do you have time for lunch? Say in an hour.” She heard a faint soft voice in the background. “Tell him to wait, Victoria. Anne, I have to go. See you at noon here?”

  “Sure, see you soon.” Anne replied, trying to keep her annoyed tone to a dainty decibel.

  Anne couldn’t stand Adam’s assistant Victoria Cameron, the law firm succubus.

  “Great, I love you babe.”

  “I love you too.” Anne replied, tapping to end their conversation and still seething over that woman. She will for sure try to deepen her claws in him now that he’s engaged. Her prey of choice was unavailable men.

  Anne stretched her neck muscles as they tightened at just the thought of Victoria. Her attempts to shake the green-eyed monster were ineffective, so she turned her attention to the mystery envelope waving its secretive arms, enticing her to open it. She picked it up and walked over to her mission-style desk to locate an envelope opener. Anne took the silver blade and ran it through the glued seal. The contents trickled out and onto her desk. Colored photographs fanned out in front of her and a white note with red-hued writing stared at her.

  For My Anneliese

  “No!”

  She gasped, feeling her hands begin to numb. Her veins were flooded with fresh fretful blood that burned her chest and pulsated into her ears as the thumping of her heart pounded deep within her. The one person in the entire universe who ever called her by her given birth name was Carter. The room was losing all focus and was quickly becoming dim. But then Carter’s face became clearer, like a luminous apparition pulling her subconscious in deeper.

  Chapter 2

  Her final memory of Carter floated around her, replaying like a syndicated sitcom.

  “Please stay with me, Carter.” Anne stood in the threshold of Carter’s bedroom while he continued to pack his navy blue camping sack.

  “It’s only for three nights. You worry too much.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Carter stopped what he was doing and walked over to Anne. She was so envious of his flawless olive skin and wavy russet hair that accentuated his mesmerizing sapphire eyes. He laced his arms around her delicate waist. She leaned into his firm chest. Carter’s smell was so comforting and the softness of his fleece pull-over made her want to curl up in his arms and stay there for eternity. With a gentle squeeze, she could feel his strength. Anne tried to dismiss her worry but she felt the knots in her stomach. He placed his lips on her forehead, kissing her gently, and then he gazed at her, memorizing every curve and every line on her face.

  “My sweet Anneliese.” Carter’s kiss was quick but spiked with craving. “I have to go,” he whispered against her mouth in a haunting tone.

  Carter closed his eyes and pushed his eyebrows together, enduring torturous agony.

  Anne noticed a horrendous buzzing noise ripping through her memory. She gasped for air as her body lunged forward. Her ribs smacked into the wooden desk, she blinked rapidly, and she tried to gather her senses. Anne looked around her office and saw that her intercom light was flashing. The buzzing screamed from her phone once again.

  Anne scrambled in an attempt to grasp her bearings so she could respond to Shelly without sounding like a lunatic. She reached for the button on her phone and saw that the pictures were lying on the floor next to her chair. Bending down to retrieve them, Anne tried to do a quick examination of the glossy photos. They appeared to be of Carter’s camping trip with his friends, Sam and Ryan. They were standing next to their orange tent and Carter had a paddle in his right hand. There were a few other guys in the photo but no one that she could make out.

  “Who left these here?” Anne whispered still thumbing through the photos.

  There was a soft knock at the door. Quickly she hid the photos under a stack of papers on her desk. Anne composed herself and opened the door to a troubled Shelly.

  “Dr. Jamison, are you all right?”

  Shelly could obviously see that she was discombobulated. The color had been drained from Ann
e’s face the second she had seen her name written on that stiff piece of paper.

  “Is Casey busy?” Anne mustered.

  The creases in Shelly’s face became more noticeable; her uneasiness was being confirmed.

  “Dr. Alder’s in with a patient but I believe she will be available in about twenty minutes. The hospital is on line one in regards to your inquiry about Alice.”

  Anne knew that she couldn’t speak with them right now. Her mind was out-of-focus.

  “Shelly, I need you to tell them that I’ll have to call them back and inform Casey that I had to leave on an urgent errand.”

  Shelly nodded and exited the office. Desperately, she tried to collect her shattered thoughts. Anne had a back door to her office. Clutching the manila envelope filled with its anonymous contents, she quietly tip-toed out and through a set of double doors that lead to the main hallway. She peeked around the corner to make sure no one was watching her skulk around like a thief in the night. Anne made it to the bank of elevators and frantically pressed the arrow. She tapped her black heels on the tile as if magically the elevator would be aware of her urgency and fly up to the twenty-second floor without further delay.

  “Come on.” She impatiently scanned the hallway.

  Finally, she heard the sound she had been waiting for. She practically lunged inside the metal box. Each breath was irregular and sweat began running down the nape of her neck. She leaned her trembling body against the back of the elevator. Anne stared at the black-and-white-checked floor, trying to figure out what was going on. Her mind was racing in hundreds of directions. A code is necessary to retrieve access to her building on the weekends. The delivery drivers couldn’t even get in without permission. So how did this envelope reach her office door? The floor had caused a bit of vertigo. Anne rested her gaze on the key panel, as a pang of nausea swept through her stomach. Today of all days.