Body Switch (A Sam Rader Thriller Book 2)

by Simon King

  After discovering that the imposter’s profile was made up, Sam began to spend time investigating the new lead. It didn’t take her very long to find that the profile of Paul Sheldon left many more questions than answers, finding that all of the photos were available on one of the free stock image sites. The limited information attached to the profile was also mostly made up, with many of the leads hitting dead ends. When she discovered Paul’s mother listed as Annie Wilkes, it didn’t take long for her ears to prick.

  Sam sent the lead to Mumma, who began to trace every link she could attach to the fake profile. After passing on everything she’d found, Sam returned to Erica Robins, continuing to turn her life inside out as she persisted in her search for leads.

  As Sam was doing her thing, Tim continued his own investigation, delving into the history of both men. Their work lives became his everything as current and past employments were scrutinized with a fine-toothed comb. Victor Mortimer came out to be the surprise package, having been a cop in his younger years, before turning his attention to private investigations.

  As Tim began to dig, he discovered a man who may have appeared to try and uphold the law at an earlier stage in his life, but beneath the surface, lurked a much darker side. At one point during his digging, Tim wondered how Victor had survived for as long as he had, considering some of his business practices.

  Whilst viewed as a successful and efficient law enforcement officer, few knew that Victor Mortimer lived two lives. On the outside, he efficiently sought and ended countless drug dealers, bringing them to justice and sending many to prison. He was held in the highest regard by his peers and his superiors practically worshipped him for his efficiency.

  On the inside, Victor Mortimer was one of the most prolific drug dealers in all of Houston, running an enterprise that included most of the south-western United States. His crew knew him to be a ruthless kingpin, with second chances unknown to him. If someone crossed him once, he made sure they never had the opportunity to wrong him a second time.

  He gained his supply by stealing it from those he arrested, or worse, killed. The Houston police hierarchy were happy to turn a blind eye to the kind of lethal justice Mortimer dished out, considering a dead drug dealer far less of a burden than a live one. As far as the press were concerned, with dealers out of business and overall crime continuing to fall, they were happy to report on the man leading the charge against the evil drug lords.

  It took a significant amount of poking around, but Tim quickly discovered an extensive and elaborate business model that involved specific people, the kind that didn’t mess with street-level dealers. If anything, what Tim saw was Victor as the embodiment of Walter White and his brother-in-law Hank as a single person.

  The radio chatter that began as the news of Victor Mortimer’s death filtered through the press channels lit up like a Christmas tree, with hundreds of texts and calls registered within the organization. But where Tim fell short, was linking anybody to his murder. He tried to find the tel-tale signs of mistrust, ill feelings or even a significant competitor that wanted to muscle in on his business. Instead, Tim found subordinates that worshipped him, rival competitions that respected him, and an outfit that was genuinely in shock.

  It was a single lucky break that gave Tim the access into the organization; a single text message between two completely unrelated people, neither of whom had anything to do with the business. One was the sister of a man who’d been killed by Mortimer, the other a friend. Mortimer’s alter ego lived under an alias, known simply as “Total”. He’d adopted the moniker once he realized that whatever money he made from the drugs he stole was total profit, something the rest of his crew soon adopted.

  Tim had found the mention of the alias in several pieces of correspondence, but when the victim’s sister sent her best friend a message saying that she had a suspicion that Detective Mortimer was in fact the drug dealer known as Total, Tim’s ears pricked. Another hour of poking around and he finally hit gold. And once he discovered the link, everything else seemed to just open up like a flower at dawn.

  “I’ve stumbled on something here,” Tim said as he continued scrolling through the pages. “Sam, this is huge.” Sam looked up from her cell, spun around on the bed and got up, sharing her own discovery.

  “I found a fake profile that was connected to Erica Robins. Some guy pretending to be a friend.” She grabbed a chair and pulled it next to Tim who was staring intently at his screen.

  “Sam, I’ve discovered an entire drug ring.” He looked at her with astonished eyes, maybe even a little fear as he whispered the words.

  “What?” Sam said, looking at the open site.

  “That body found in George Andrew’s coffin. He wasn’t just some random guy. He was a drug kingpin. Sam, whoever offed him is going to be on a lot of people’s hit list. I mean that person is seriously fucked if these guys ever find out who he is.”

  Tim began to show Sam the connections, the calls, the texts and several law enforcement files on the drug baron known as Total. Her mouth dropped further and further the more she saw, until her jaw actually ached.

  “You can’t possibly keep this to yourself. We have to tell John.” Tim nodded.

  “I think you’re right. John?” As Tim spoke the name, it surprised Sam, forgetting about the earpiece. It took but a second for John Milton to answer.

  “Yah, what’s up?”

  Sam listened as Tim filled their boss in, the details flowing with a clear and concise timeline. Once he finished, John thanked him and said he’d get back to him soon. Tim stood, stretched and went to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “Do they always listen?” Sam suddenly asked, curious about the earpieces. Because of their simplicity, they didn’t require a detailed explanation, and yet she never quite fully understood just how they worked.

  “Who? You mean the others?” Sam nodded. “No,” he said, laughing a little. “They are voice activated and also name activated. You can’t talk or listen to anyone not connected to your set. Not until you mention them. Once the system hears the name, it opens the channel and you can communicate freely.”

  “But I don’t ever call your name before we talk?”

  “That’s because ours are set to open mic status. Plus Mumma is patched in to everybody’s, although hers is more screen-based. When you speak her name, a notification pops up on her monitor.”

  “So I can just say anybody’s name and the connection opens?” Sam asked, looking unsure.

  “Yah, pretty much.”

  “That’s so cool.”

  “Yes it is. Beats having to send texts or make calls,” Tim said, dropping back into his chair. He stared back at the screen, still a little dumbfounded by his discovery.

  “What do you think will happen with this?” Sam asked, pointing to his laptop.

  “We can’t do both, so I’d guess that-“

  “Tim?” John’s voice suddenly cut in.

  “Here.”

  “Keep going with these body switches. I’ll put Dwayne and Lucy on the Mortimer case. If it leads anywhere back to the current case, I’ll let you know, but for now, focus on that.”

  “No problem,” Tim said, although Sam detected his disappointment. The connection was broken and it was just the two of them again. He turned to her and said, “Alright. Show me what you found.”

  By the time Sam brought Tim up to speed with her own discovery, the time was nudging dinner and when Tim’s stomach grumbled loudly, they both knew it was time for a proper meal. No sandwich was going to satisfy the hunger both of them had.

  “There was diner a couple of miles back,” Sam suggested as they climbed back into the car. Tim nodded and they headed in that direction, the trip quick and in silence.

  There were a few other cars in the parking lot and when they stepped inside, found several tables surrounded by other diners. The pair headed to a vacant spot near the far corner, the smells from the kitchen setting off Tim’s stomach aga
in.

  Once seated, a waitress approached, topped their glasses with water and offered them a couple of menus. Whilst Tim studied his for several minutes, Sam knew what she was having the moment she spotted the option. Tim looked at her surprised when she closed the menu again and placed it aside, having held it open for barely five seconds.

  “You’re not eating?” he surmised.

  “Oh I’m eating alright,” she chortled.

  “Oh yeah?” he whispered, amused by her expression.

  “Hell yeah,” she replied.

  Once the waitress returned, Sam offered for Tim to order first and patiently waited as he chose his usual.

  “Cheeseburger, fries and a cherry coke please.” The waitress noted his order down, then turned to Sam.

  “I’ll have the pancakes, please. A four-stack, with walnuts, fried bananas and the ice cream.”

  “And to drink?” the waitress asked.

  “Chocolate banana milkshake, thanks.” Tim stared at her dumbfounded. Once the waitress was gone again, he shook his head comically.

  “Where the hell are you gonna fit four pancakes.”

  “I’ll manage,” she giggled. She hadn’t had pancakes in forever and refused to pass up an opportunity to indulge.

  They sat back and took note of their surroundings whilst patiently waiting for their food. The clientele seemed quiet and sincere, a welcome sight for the pair. The previous diner they had dinner at turned out to be a blood bath, with three men coming to grief over a woman one of them sat with. Chairs had been sent flying and a few teeth knocked out. The local police arrived a short while later and kept witnesses back for statements.

  “You realize the man we’re chasing could be right here, hidden amongst this crowd,” Sam said, looking around the room. Tim tried to look at the people sitting around a few of the tables and nodded.

  “Yah, but not that guy over there.”

  “Who?” Sam asked, surprised.

  “That one there, the one with the Nike cap. He’s not our guy.” He sounded sure of himself.

  “How do you know?” Sam queried.

  “Because he’s here for that waitress over there. The one behind the counter.”

  “What?” Sam looked at him almost shocked.

  “And neither is that guy there,” he added, pointing to a different man, this one sitting alone by the window.” Sam tilted her head at him questionably. “Yah, see he’s here to try and get a job as a chef. He was fired from his last job for repeatedly eating people’s appetizers.” He grinned obnoxiously.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No, not at all. And you see that couple over there? The ones by the condiment table?” Sam looked suspiciously at the couple. Tim lent in a little closer, lowering his voice to match the mood. “They’re having an affair. Her husband is working at a nearby factory; night shift. And his wife’s back home in Denver. He’s here as a rep for Apple.”

  Sam lent back in her chair and actually tee-heed. She looked around the room, finally understanding the joke.

  “See those two over there? The two guys with cowboy hats?” Tim looked and nodded. “They’re discussing leaving their wives and running away together to live bachelor lives. To start fresh and find their youth again.”

  “Not bad, not bad,” Tim said, looking pleased. “But you need to do better.”

  Sam looked around the room again, paying careful attention to several couples. Once she found what she was looking for, she took a sip of water, smiled and waved her partner in.

  “See the woman over there? Sitting alone?” Sam nodded her head towards a dark-haired lady sitting almost directly opposite them. From their vantage point, the woman’s short skirt was clearly evident, as was her tight-fitting top.

  “Her name is Rochelle and she’s on her way to Houston to look for her friend. They were both working the streets and decided to change their ways. Her friend went ahead and organized them an apartment and now she’s following.”

  “That’s pretty-“ Tim began, but Sam continued.

  “She’s also in possession of a pound of meth, hidden in the boot of her car. She knocked it off from her last client and is hoping to sell it.” Sam paused again, took another sip and continued. “See, her brother’s got contacts and he’s already agreed to split the profits.”

  “There you go,” the waitress suddenly said from beside them. “A chocolate banana milkshake for you, ma’am, and a cherry coke for you, sir. I’ll be right back with your food.”

  “That was pretty in-depth,” Tim said, sipping his coke. Sam smiled as her favorite flavor lit up her taste buds.

  “Is that something you do often?” she asked.

  “Not since,” he began, but paused. His face changed, as if suddenly hit by an emotional smack and Sam instantly understood.

  “It’s OK,” she said just as the waitress delivered their food. As they sat eating, the conversation muted, the mood dimmed by the flood of memories.

  As they ate, neither noticed the eyes watching them through the window beside them. A van had parked next to their rental, the perfect vantage point from which to spy on the diner. The shadow sitting in the driver’s seat began to smile as he watched them, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter and tighter until the knuckles audibly popped.

  6

  Sometimes, whilst playing the “fake story” game, someone may be lucky enough to guess a certain aspect of their unknown target. But Samantha couldn’t have known just how close she came to describing the woman sitting across from her in that diner. Close enough to only make two mistakes. The pound of meth was actually two, and her name wasn’t Rochelle, but Lee.

  Lee sat and watched the lights out in the parking lot as she patiently waited for Paul. He was the only one she could think of messaging once she was sure her client was dead. Who else was she supposed to call? It wasn’t as if she could call the cops. How would she explain the sequence of events that led to her lying trapped beneath a dead 300-pound naked man for almost a half hour, then finding two pounds of meth in his bag?

  As she sat waiting, sipping the water slowly, the diner fell into an obsolete silence around her. All Lee wanted was to give the drugs to her brother, take her cut and find Lucia. This whole shit-storm could be blamed on her future room mate, already safe in whatever apartment she had managed to find them in Houston. “If only they had gone together,” Lee thought to herself.

  The day had started like any other for the Hollywood hopeful. Lee had finally made the decision to cut ties with the streets she had lived on for the past two years, and follow her friend to a new start in Houston. But the previous night had been a temporary setback, a final night to say goodbye to the crowd she had called family for so long.

  It was a little after two by the time she awoke, lying on a mattress in a derelict house. A vague memory of meeting some guy at the bar and following him home drifted back to her. She suddenly panicked, reached for her pants and checked the pockets. It was gone. Of course it was.

  There was a hundred bucks she’d put away for this very day; a hundred bucks that Lucia had given her two days prior, with the specific instructions to keep it safe and use it to catch a bus to Houston. Good old dependable Lucia.

  But then came the invite for a few drinks the previous night and Lee wasn’t one to turn down a good time. All it took were a couple of free Vodka drinks and the stranger could do with her as he pleased. Vodka was one of her weaknesses, one she’d never been able to properly control.

  Had they done the deed? She reached beneath the ragged blanket and felt for evidence. She looked down at the floor beside her and saw the condom, the fluid inside, proof enough that he at least had the sense to use one. But he hadn’t been completely upstanding, had he?

  Lee checked the rest of her clothing but already knew that the money was gone, and with it, her chances of getting to Houston. If only she had been more sensible, but that word had never been part of her vocabulary and thus she went about life the hard
way.

  As Lee dressed herself, she tried to decide her options. She slipped on her shoes and realized that there were really only two. The first was to hitch a ride to Houston, a prospect not foreign to her. She’d once hitched half way across the country to meet some guy she’d met on Facebook. But given the hour of the day, it would take her a while to get to the highway and hitching at night wasn’t something she considered clever.

  Her second option, despite going against the promise she had made to both herself and Lucia, was to find a quick trick, do the deed and make a fast buck. Just a straight-up blowjob would net her an even fifty, which would be more than enough for a bus ride. But given her mood, Lee knew that bending over and taking it from behind was the better option. Tasting dick with her head feeling the way it did wasn’t going to work for her.

  It took barely twenty minutes for the fat guy to show up, slowing down enough to check her out as she stood by the roadside. Lee had a bad feeling from the onset as he wound down his window and waved her over.

  “Hey, Sweetie,” she purred. “You lookin for some fun?” Of course he did and once Lee leaned in through his window, revealing a well-defined cleavage that screamed for his face to bury itself into, he was sold.

  The man said his name was Larry and he had a place just around the corner. Lee, normally good with trusting her instincts, went against them, climbing in and sliding up close to the man as he swung back into traffic.

  Ten minutes later, he led his catch into a small warehouse, licking his lips as her tiny butt wiggled up the stairs in front of him. Lee dropped her bag on a nearby table as the man closed the door. She knelt down to unclip her boots and as she rose back up, he hit her square in the face, knocking Lee down onto the floor.