by Laurèn Lee
When Houses Burn
By: Laurèn Lee
When Houses Burn
Chapter 1
“Dr. Hedley, your next patient is here to see you.”
“Thank you, Jennifer. You may let him in.”
Jennifer smiled and gently closed the door to retrieve my next appointment. Trying to calm my nerves, I carefully gathered my handwritten notes regarding my previous patient and put them in my desk drawer, securely turning the key in the lock.
A short and steady knock rapped upon my door.
“Come in,” I instructed.
A handsome man strolled into my office with a purpose. He appeared even more attractive than in the newspaper photographs. He wore an Armani suit and seemed built like an athlete, an unyielding athlete. Standing up to shake his hand, I realized just how tall he stood; he towered over me. His emerald eyes surprised me; I had never seen any quite so brilliantly striking.
“Dr. Hedley, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You may call me Delilah if you’d like. Please, make yourself comfortable, Mr. Finch.”
“You may call me Lucas,” he said charmingly.
He sat down across from me, in the black leather chair used by all of my clients. I tried to ensure my office operated as a soothing environment for those I counseled. Luscious fichus plants stood in all four corners, the curtains separated to allow the natural light to flow in and I covered the walls with tasteful artwork. My office is my safe space and a sanctuary for my patients; at least I hoped it was.
“Well, Delilah, shall we begin?”
“Absolutely, do you want to start by telling me why you’re here?”
“Surely, you have read the newspapers, Dr. Hedley?”
I had been following Lucas’ story with a curious fixation. His face and story had been plastered all over the news. It would’ve been more difficult not to have heard about the case against him.
“Yes, I am subtly familiar,” I lied.
“Then, you know why I’m here.”
“I’d like to hear it directly from you, Lucas.”
He smiled patiently, but I sensed he felt it unnecessary to explain his current predicament.
Lucas sighed, “I’m here because I have to be.”
“I understand, Lucas. However, please tell me what brings you here, even though you are here involuntarily.”
“You see, the court mandated I seek professional counsel for thirty, one hour sessions.”
“Go on.”
“I’m here because I am mentally unstable, so they say.” He leaned back in the chair with his nose up to me. Casually, he massaged his refined chestnut beard with an air of nonchalance.
I gazed into his piercing eyes, and he merely smiled back, glowing with anticipation. His jawline was perfectly constructed. He could’ve been a Greek God in a past life, no questions about it.
“I’m here because my parents are dead.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” I said softly.
“Are you?”
“Yes, of course. To lose one’s parents is a horrific tragedy.”
“Are you parents still alive?”
“Lucas, I’d like to focus on you,” I said.
“All right, fair enough. We can always chat about you another time,” he began. “Well, I suppose I may have had a hand in my sweet parents’ demise.”
“It’s natural to blame ourselves when horrible things happen to people we love.”
Lucas broke out in hysterical laughter, taking me aback. “I didn’t love them.”
I sat quietly, unsure of what to say or do next. I’ve dealt with a variety of patients throughout my professional career. I’ve had pedophiles, people with schizophrenia, and people seeking counsel for depression. But, in all my times as a psychiatrist, I’ve never met anyone quite like Lucas. He frightened me and intrigued me.
He seemed to pick up on my lack of desire to make the next move and so he continued his dramatic soliloquy. However, before he began speaking again, he rose from the patient’s chair and walked over to the open window, gazing outside. His sudden movement allowed me to smell his cologne which I breathed in deeply, trying to grasp it tightly in my memory.
“It was a dark and cold night.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully, “I decided the house needed a new look and so I poured gasoline on the floors, splashed it upon the walls and made sure to cover every inch of the house. And then, I lit a match and watched as the flames devoured the kitchen, the living room and dashed up the stairs to greet my sweet, loving parents in their bed.”
He turned around to look at me; his face lit up with enchantment. It was as though a child was describing their very first trip to Disney World.
“I walked out of the house and watched from a distance as the house became enveloped in flames. Luckily, I heard my parents wake up. I heard their desperate shrieks and calls for help. I stood outside for some time and watched as they burned alive.”
This wasn’t the story I had been following so closely; in fact, this wasn’t even close to what journalists reported. I had been led to believe Lucas had a mental breakdown and confessed to killing his parents due to a psychosis. The evidence had proven, though, he wasn’t guilty of killing his parents; someone else had killed them, and they were never apprehended. I had agreed to take Lucas as a client because I thought he needed help to repair his mental stability, I didn’t agree to take on a lying murderer!
“Lucas, I’m here to help you, but I need to know you’re telling me the truth.”
“The truth,” he began. “What does truth mean, anyway? Don’t we all lie to ourselves?”
“Sometimes, we wish to disassociate from the truth. In self-preservation, we can dismiss certain memories or events from our conscious lives. The pain of remembering can be too much for us to cope with.”
“Interesting,” he said as he massaged his five o’clock shadow.
“In other circumstances, our minds are even capable of creating memories of events which may have never happened. Do you think maybe that’s what could be happening with your memories of killing your parents?”
“You think it’s possible my memories of killing my parents are completely fictionalized?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but that’s what I’d like to find out.”
“I guess it’s possible. But, the images inside my head are so vibrant and real,” he glowed.
“It can be difficult to distinguish from real memories to manufactured ones.”
“I’m not sure what is real and what isn’t, but I think I really did kill them,” he said.
“If your memories are legitimate, how did you feel while watching your parents die?” I asked as I stuttered, not knowing how he’d respond.
“I felt alive.”
Cranberry Lane
By: Laurèn Lee
Cranberry Lane
Chapter 1- WAYNE
I crouched onto the abandoned rooftop with my military-grade sniper rifle locked, loaded and ready for action.
I rested my chin against the scope and saw my target in the crosshairs as he paced in his office across the street. Will Jacobsen, the CEO of Energy Tech Incorporated, had pissed off nearly his entire board of investors when he embezzled almost all of their financial contributions.
I couldn’t imagine the balls on this guy. How could you be so powerful and yet so god damned stupid? What would he even need the extra money for? Word on the street is the guy is worth millions if not billions, but he needs a little extra dough? Doesn’t make a lick of sense, but at the end of the day, I’m just here to follow orders.
Jacobsen paced his office, comprised of all windows, with his phone in hand and I could nearly see the wrinkles invading the skin under his eyes. The guy had taken off more than he could chew, but now he was about to choke.
I took a deep breath and put my finger on the trigger. Smooth as ice. The calm before the storm. Focused. Determined. Lethal.
Another more deep breath and I
focused in one last time.
Ready, aim, fire. Jacobsen dropped before he’d even known what hit him.
Today was like any other day. I am a hitman and this is what I do.
About the Author
Laurèn Lee was born and raised in Buffalo, New York. She loves hockey, chicken wings and spending time with family, friends and her boyfriend.
Reading and writing are her life’s passions and becoming an author is her ultimate dream. Charlotte’s Pact was her debut novel and the first book in the series, “Demons in New York.”
As a child, Laurèn became enamored with the Harry Potter series. As an adult, she loves psychological thrillers and mysteries with a twist.
Make sure to sign up for my Email Newsletter to be the first to know about new releases, sales, and giveaways!
For more information…
www.laurenleeauthor.com
[email protected]
Also by Laurèn Lee
When Houses Burn
Cranberry Lane
***Liam Rising (Demons in New York #2)
Coming Spring of 2018***
