Prime Suspect: A Psychological Thriller With A Twist You Won’t See Coming

by Cole Baxter

  "Hey, Lola," I said as I reached out to touch her gravestone. "It's been a hot minute, eh? I'm sorry. Things have just been . . . terrible."

  I wished that she would answer. There was nothing I wanted more than to hear her answer. But of course, as always, Lola remained silent, and I had to carry on the conversation myself.

  "So . . . this case," I said. "It's an absolute mess. I can't tell who is actually a suspect because Sam won't tell me who my employers are. I can't tell whether I'm going off the deep end with this victim. I can't . . . Lola, I did something terrible."

  The crickets were still out, and they chirped a tiny bit as I spoke.

  "I slept with her. And I know that I shouldn't have done that. I know that I should have stayed faithful to you. But she's . . . different. She's special. Of course, if you were around, I wouldn't have looked twice. But that's the thing, Lola. You really aren't here anymore."

  I thought that I might cry, but instead, I realized that I was angry.

  "You aren't here, and I'm just expected to carry on," I said. "And I want to act like you're still here. I want to stay faithful and I want you to scold me when my head turns the other way . . . but you aren't here. You're gone."

  It was the first time I had been able to say it quite so forcefully.

  There were so many stories of widowers who never looked at a woman again. They continued to live, but that was it. They didn't date, they didn't so much as turn their heads.

  I wish I had been that strong. No one would ever compare to Lola.

  "You're gone . . . and Laurie needs me," I said as I played in the dirt. "So, what was I supposed to do? Just ignore her? Just leave her to suffer? You know that I can't do that, Lola. You know that I have to help people."

  She used to say how much she admired me all the time. She used to say that I had a good heart and I should stop denying it. I used to never believe her. I used to think that Lola just said things to make people feel better. But here and now, I realized that she might be right. I had gotten into this line of work because I wanted to help people. I wanted people to know that there was someone who would speak for them when they couldn't.

  "Anyway," I said quietly, "I just thought you should know. But you should also know that I'll never forget you. And I'll come see you soon."

  I touched her grave again, and instead of cold stone, I felt a sense of peace fill me.

  Of course, Lola was all right with this. Of course she was. She was Lola, the kindest soul that I had ever met. She was strong and patient and had a heart of gold.

  I wished that she weren't okay with it. I wished that her heart was angry and that her ghost would threaten to haunt me or something.

  But it was just peaceful.

  Eventually, I got myself up from the mud and the grime and headed back to the car.

  After the fire, they had decided to put the residents of the building in a hotel just in case there was something further going on.

  There was something further going on. I just couldn't tell them.

  So, that morning, I helped Laurie pack up all her stuff and then helped her check into the hotel. We had agreed to spend the night apart. She said that she felt safe in the hotel, and I believed her, mostly. I also told her to deadbolt her door and call me if anything was amiss.

  I desperately hoped my phone didn't ring as I drove there. She had said that she might call a few friends, which I thought was good. If she were being open and honest about what was happening, the truth would eventually emerge.

  I still didn't know whether she had killed Devon or not, but I was really starting to not care. What mattered was that she was safe and alive. The rest could just be dust in the wind.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Laurie

  I couldn't express with words how relieved I was when my phone rang and it was the Graces. The last few days had been such chaos, and I couldn't get in contact with them, which only made me feel worse. I had checked their Facebook statuses and it seemed like they were regularly updating, so the fact that they hadn't called me back made me panic. I had thought the worst, so when I saw their number, I sighed in relief.

  "Hello?" I said, putting the phone on the speakerphone as I got dressed. The hotel was nice, and I had been lounging in my fluffy robe after a shower. I had to admit, it was nice enough for me to forget the world outside.

  "Laurie, we're so sorry!" Belinda said when I answered. "So sorry! Mario was an idiot and forgot to pay our phone bill."

  "I admit it," Mario replied. "I'm an idiot."

  I paused.

  "Really?" I asked. "You aren't mad at me?"

  "No, we aren't mad!" Belinda promised. "We got a new credit card, and it should have come off automatically, but it didn't. Neither of our cell phones were working, and I suppose that's when you were trying to call. By the time we got it restored, I was flooded with messages and I accidentally discarded yours."

  I managed to chuckle. "Did they think you were trying to skip out on payments?" I asked.

  "I suppose so," Belinda said. "And when I explained to them that we were doctors on call and just didn't realize that the bill hadn't been paid, they told me they thought doctors maybe didn't have a lot of money. It was so ridiculous, I swear."

  I couldn't help it. I laughed at that.

  "It's okay," I said. "It's okay. I'm glad that the two of you are all right."

  "We're all right," Mario said. "But what about you? Something's wrong, isn't it?"

  "It's . . ." I paused and took a deep breath. "It's a long story."

  "Well, neither of us is working, so we have all the time in the world," Belinda said. "Tell us your long story, please."

  I couldn't help but smile at that. These two should probably win awards for being the kindest souls on the planet.

  "It's just . . . there was a fire," I decided to start with that.

  "There was a fire where?" Mario asked in alarm.

  "In my apartment building. It looks like someone set fire to the garage. The only reason it didn't burn the whole building down was because of the rainstorm."

  "Oh, my God," Belinda asked "Where are you? Are you safe?"

  "I'm safe," I said. "But they haven't caught who did it."

  "Sweetie, you shouldn't be alone," Belinda said. "Mario will come and get you and—"

  "No, it's okay," I replied. "Blake is actually coming over."

  "Blake?" Mario asked.

  "The uh . . . I guess he's one of the police officers on my case," I said.

  "And he's coming over to talk to you?" Belinda asked. "That's good."

  "Yeah . . ." I said and my voice trailed off.

  Belinda was smart and she picked up on it right away. "Is it more than just talking?" she asked.

  I heard Mario scoff in the background. "Belinda!" he said.

  "No, Belinda is right . . ." I replied. "I didn't mean for it to turn into anything . . . but it's turned into something."

  "Oh, my," Mario said. "Well, good for you."

  "Yeah, it's complicated . . ." I said. "Because I'm sure that you've seen on the news that they are investigating me for Devon's murder."

  "Yes," Belinda said. "But if you are allied with one of the officers . . ."

  "Well, here's the thing," I said. "I don't think he works with the rest of the force. I think he's some kind of special detective or something."

  "That's interesting," Mario replied. "Maybe you got assigned to some special unit?"

  "Maybe," I said. "Whatever I got assigned to . . . he and I have become . . . close."

  "Sweetie, I think you need us to come forward," Belinda said.

  I had known this would come up in conversation, but I didn't know how to answer it.

  "It's okay," I said. "I think I have a handle on things."

  "You don't have to do this yourself," Mario replied. "We have no problem testifying that you were safe with us and under medical supervision."

  "No," I replied. "I appreciate your hearts, I really do.
But I know there is still a chance of backlash, and that is so frightening to me. Please, I'll be all right. Anyway, they put us up at this hotel and it's super nice, so I'm enjoying my vacation."

  "Is breakfast free?" Belinda asked.

  I laughed. "It is," I said. "They spared no expense."

  "Do you promise that you'll call us if you need us?" Belinda asked.

  "I do," I said. "That's why I'm calling you now. I just needed to hear your voices and feel that everything was all right on your end."

  "Everything is all right," Belinda assured me. "It's just the usual world of sick people."

  "Or dead people," Mario said, and I smiled. "You see, in a lot of ways, I think I have the better job. I don't ever have to figure out complicated lifesaving measures or try to help my patients get through a rough day."

  "Unless they wake up on the table," I said.

  "That's only happened twice," Mario answered.

  I choked. "Twice? I wasn't the only one?"

  "No," he said. "The first time was about a year into my career."

  "Tell me," I begged. I sat on the bed and pulled the phone closer. All I wanted to hear were stories about a life that wasn't my own.

  "Oh, Mario." I could practically hear Belinda shaking her head.

  "It was about a year into working in the morgue," he said, "and they brought me an old man who had been pronounced DOA. He'd been lying in his bed for hours with family surrounding him, crying, and they finally called the ambulance. So, they bring him in, and they bring him right down to me. Usual procedure, tag him, strip him, that sort of thing."

  "And then?" I asked with bated breath. I could practically see the scene unfolding.

  "And then . . ." Mario paused.

  I was sure it was for dramatic effect. He was quite good at telling stories, which I knew was part of the reason Belinda was attracted to him. She had told me once that she had fallen in love with his deep voice and his stories. I thought they were the most adorable couple I had ever met.

  "And then, just as I'm going on my coffee break, I hear a noise from behind me," he said. "Now, corpses do settle, just like old houses, so I thought it was just that. But then I hear another noise, and the sheet starts to slide off. I turn around, and this old man is tutting and looking at me."

  "Oh, my God! So, what did you do?"

  "Well, we both froze," Mario said. "I was trying to figure out in my head whether it was rigor mortis or not, and then he yawns and asks for a cup of coffee."

  "It was a cup of tea last time you told this story," Belinda said.

  Mario chuckled. "That it was," he said.

  "So, what did you do?" I asked.

  "I got him the cup of tea," Mario answered. "And then I called his family."

  "You're so calm under pressure," I replied. "I don't think I could have done that."

  "Oh, I nearly fainted," Mario said. "And then I went home on stress leave."

  "And for the next three months, he would tell me that all of them were going to sit up and ask him for tea and he wasn't going to be able to get it for them," Belinda said.

  I couldn't help it. I fell to my side giggling. "That is just like you," I said. "I would have nightmares and need therapy."

  "I seriously considered it," Mario replied. "But you know what? I eventually just decided to be at peace with it. Whatever happened would happen, and the rest was up to God. If they wanted to sit up and get a second chance at life, let them."

  "Well . . . I'm glad you have that attitude," I said. "Because you gave me my second chance at life."

  "You gave yourself that," Mario said.

  I felt warmth inside and got up to get my own cup of tea. They could always make me feel better, no matter what the situation was.

  "Anyway, I should go," I said. "Blake will be here soon and I'm still in my robe."

  "You will call us if you need us?" Belinda made me promise again.

  "I will," I said. We said our goodbyes and hung up, and then I sipped the tea I'd made in the room’s coffee maker.

  Blake sent me a text message to let me know that he had arrived and then knocked on my door. I checked the peephole first and saw that it was Blake. I let him in, and he handed me flowers, which surprised me.

  "What are these for?" I asked as he kissed me on the neck. He was clearly about to answer when all of a sudden, we heard the sound of shattering glass from behind us. I spun around and saw the window shattering. Blake pulled me down, and we both yelled as something hit over our heads.

  I couldn't process what was happening. I couldn't even breathe. I didn't know what to do.

  Luckily, Blake did.

  "Stay down!" he yelled at me and rushed to the window.

  "Blake!" I felt like all my trauma was coming back at once. I wanted to rush forward and I wanted to run.

  I didn't want anything to happen to him. I couldn't live if anything happened to him. I would die. I surely would. I wouldn't be able to function without Blake in my life.

  Blake saw something and practically leaned all the way out the window. He immediately pulled out his phone and started snapping pictures and cursing.

  "What was it?" I finally managed. "Who was it? What's happening?"

  "It's . . ." He turned back to me and got on the ground, crawling toward me instead of staying standing up. That made me panic even more, because it told me that he thought somebody might shoot again. "I don't know. I need you to get out into the hallway and I need you to get out there now."

  “Okay, okay, okay," I said and managed to get out the door without completely collapsing. My therapist had sometimes said that trauma could be disabling if I let it. I hated that she said that because it made it sound like I had control over it.

  I had no control over it. I had no control over what happened to me when I was scared. Devon had ruined me.

  "It's okay, Laurie," Blake said as soon as we were outside. "It's okay."

  "Someone shot at me!" I said. "Someone shot at us! Blake, someone is trying to kill us. Someone is trying to—"

  "Laurie." He looked me right in the eye. "I need you to listen to me. Nothing is going to happen to you. Nothing is going to happen to us. I'm going to keep us safe."

  "But how?" I asked. "How can you do that when they just . . . can shoot like that? Who was it? Did you see a car? Did you see the gun? Did you see—"

  "Just take a breath," he said as we sat in the hallway.

  I could hear police sirens in the distance, and I assumed that someone had called them.

  "It's okay."

  "Oh, my God," I said as the adrenaline rushed through me. "Blake, I thought this was over. I thought he was dead."

  "Yeah, so I did," Blake said in a voice that sent chills down my spine.

  "Is he dead?"

  "I don't know," Blake answered. "I really don't know."

  I leaned against him and closed my eyes. If Blake didn't know, then we were probably both dead. It was only a matter of time.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Laurie

  “Laurie, I have a confession to make," Blake said while we were sitting on the bed in the new hotel room. He had asked to have us put up on the top floor so that shooting at us would be a lot less likely.

  To my surprise, he didn't tell anyone what happened and the police sirens had passed us by. I had already figured out that there was something fishy going on, but I had been too traumatized yesterday to even think clearly. Now that it was the next morning, despite a sleepless night, I had realized that there was something that wasn't adding up. Why hadn't he called the police? Why hadn't he brought me somewhere safe?

  "I'm not actually a police officer."

  I didn't know what to make of that. That didn't make any sense. I had seen him with the police. I had seen him work with them and talk to them.

  "What?" I asked.

  "I used to be a police officer," he said. "And I work closely with them. But when Lola died, I couldn't go on, so I left the force. I actually work a
s a private detective now, and the police give me cases."

  "Oh," I said. I didn't know what to say to that. "But . . ."

  "The boys on the force are still my friends and all," he said. "So, don't think that I am going behind their backs or something. But they're paid by the city, and I'm paid by a private employer."

  "Who is it?" I asked. "Who asked you to do this?"

  "Well, that's the thing," he said. "They won't tell me. I'm just supposed to build an unbiased case and bring it to them."

  "Against me?" I said.

  "A report of the whole thing," he said. "And my best guess as to who did this."

  "So that's why you don't want to call the police," I said. "You want to crack this yourself?"

  "No," he said. "I just think the police might have different motives than me, and I don't want them completely involved in what is happening. There have been times when they get to a crime scene before me and it's just . . . not what I want."

  "I see." I was trying to put it all together in my head, and it wasn't exactly right. "So . . ."

  "I just had to tell you that," he said. "I didn't want you to think that I was lying to you. It just wasn't relevant until now."

  "But you will tell them, won't you?" I asked.

  He nodded. "I will," he said just as his phone rang.

  "Is that them?" I asked in a panic. Maybe they had a new lead, and Blake would leave me to go follow up with it.

  "No," he said as he picked up the phone. "It's actually the coroner's office."

  "The coroner's office?" I asked in confusion as he answered the phone and spoke to the coroner. I realized my hands were shaking, and I tried to sit on them so Blake didn't see just how weak I was.

  I hated that I was still a mess. So many people told me how strong I was and how I would be able to survive anything. But they didn't see me in the dark of night when the nightmares took over.

  When Blake hung up, he faced me.

  "So . . ." he said, and then he really looked at me. "Are you all right?"