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

by T Patrick Phelps

  “I have made a few mistakes in my career,” Ralph said as he held the folder out in front of him, “and I sure do hope that what I am about to do here is not gonna be another one. Whether or not it is a mistake is entirely up to you, Mr. Cole.”

  “Is that the case file?” Derek asked.

  “Not exactly,” Ralph said as he dropped the heavy folder on to the desk, sending dust into an immediate flight. “This here is a little something that those state police investigators overlooked. Now, I’m thinking about showing you some very interesting things I’ve found in this folder, but I need to make sure my impression of you is accurate.”

  “Ask me anything you want.”

  “Ya see, Mr. Cole, I wasn’t a 100% forthcoming about my feelings on freelancers. Fact is, I often wished I could bend the rules a tad. You know, here and there.”

  “In my experience, you’re not alone,” Derek said in a measured response.

  “Now I may have actually bent some of those rules over the years but always did so when my instincts suggested that them rules needed a little flexibility. So since I am pretty much alone on this investigation, and the state police see me as someone just to keep informed, I am going to include you into this investigation.”

  “I appreciate your trust.”

  “You need to catch some shut eye?”

  “Eventually, but I’m more interested in seeing what’s in that file first,” Derek said as his eyes grew hungry at the idea of reading the contents of the file.

  “Well, I do. So I’m going to leave this file right here on this goofy-looking desk and go find a place to sleep.” Ralph stood and hitched his pants over his belly. “I want to show you a few things first that I want to pay particular attention to.” Ralph opened the file and thumbed through a few sheets until he pulled out a group of photographs. “You take a good look at these, and I’ll bet you’ll understand why I don’t believe your mysterious note leaver wasn’t Alexander.”

  As Ralph quietly left the small office, Derek moved to the more comfortable chair behind the desk. He gave a quick glance at Ralph.

  “Thanks for not shooting me earlier,” he said.

  “Well, I imagine that would have not been an enjoyable event for you. But, there’s still time, I imagine. Still time.”

  As Ralph left in search for a bed that would be kind enough to allow him a few minutes of sleep, Derek dropped his eyes to the series of photographs laying on the desk in front of him.

  “Holy shit balls!” he said.

  The picture on top of the pile was of a young man who, to Derek, seemed to be posing for his autopsy pictures. The man in the picture stood over six feet tall and was standing against a wall. As he stared at the photograph of the man standing naked against the off-white wall, Derek was captured by his eyes.

  Baby blue, yet dimmed, surrounded by yellowish-gray skin where white should have been. Eyes too large for a man, and too blue. If not for the spark of something in them, Derek would take these eyes for those of a dead man.

  Lifeless. Cold. Vacant.

  The man’s eyes were they only bit of life’s color in the picture. The man’s skin was a horrible shade of death; gray mixed with hints of purplish blue. He was completely bald, and though the photograph was obviously taken from a digital camera then printed out on an ink jet printer, Derek could make out whispers of eyebrows, so faint as to remind him of an infants. Soft brown and stretched to a point of comical sparseness. Above each eyebrow were two, nearly perfect circles of much darker skin. They looked like old, healed burn marks and made Derek think of the pictures of electrodes he’d seen pictures of before.

  The shade of death the man wore on his face was a theme carried throughout the rest of his body. Though some areas of the man’s body- his elbows, back of his hands, and knees - were a darker shade of death, the man was colorless.

  There was very little fat on the man. Muscles, seemingly defying the death motif, were visible. A classic and envied six-pack was clear in the man’s abdominals. Biceps and deltoids both well developed and prominent. Muscles lined the man’s thighs and appeared to have been carefully carved to show each of their assigned functions. His genitals hung softly and assumed a much darker variation of gray. Unlike the rest of the photo subject’s body, his genitals appeared to have never developed.

  “I see what you mean, Ralph,” Derek said out loud, somewhat hoping Ralph was still awake and within ear shot. “This guy showing up in an airport would certainly be remembered.” Derek received no report back from Ralph.

  As Derek scanned the photograph again, he paused when his eyes met the man’s smile. The thin lips curled just slightly at their corners, parting enough for Derek to that they hid nothing. Though he couldn’t be certain, the way the lips fell inward and the lack of anything white behind them, suggested that the man was toothless.

  As he flipped through the remaining pictures, each of the same subject, Derek noticed that each picture was dated and each date marked the same day of the year. June 30th. There were twenty-two pictures in the stack, each taken on June 30th of the last twenty-two years. The only picture that broke the sequence was the very first picture that was dated July 4, 1992.

  This picture showed a baby wearing the same alarming shade of death-gray. He was lying in a crib. His eyes, baby blue then, held an unsettling gaze back at the camera.

  “This is not a good-looking baby,” Derek said.

  Derek quickly scanned the printed photographs again and noticed that the first thirteen were taken in a different place than the last nine. In those, the subject stood, naked and gray against a painted concrete blocked wall. In the remaining nine, the person stood against an off-white and typical-looking sheet-rocked wall.

  Derek collected the photographs into a neat pile and set them aside. He wanted to see what else of interest was in the over-stuffed folder that sat in front of him. As he began to thumb through, Derek noticed several smaller pictures, all black and white, bound together by a rubber band that was showing its age with cracks and a visible loss of elasticity.

  Derek removed the tired rubber band and thumbed through the twelve or thirteen pictures that the band faithfully bound. Each was of an attractively shaped woman and was obviously taken without her being aware that a camera’s lens was trained on her. The woman was captured in many positions; bending over what looked like a crib, standing with folding arms looking at something in the non-captured distance, sitting at a small desk writing notes. Each picture of the same woman dressed in a white nurses uniform and each taken from what Derek assumed to be a hazy window.

  The pictures were not dated, but all seemed to have been taken the same day, for the subject’s uniform and hairstyle remained consistent. The last picture in the lot was of the nurse holding the gray baby. Her backside was the obvious target of the photograph, but the eyes of the baby as the nurse held it over her left shoulder were what sent a disturbing shiver through Derek’s soul.

  The eyes were certainly the same eyes of the subject of the other pictures, but they seemed different in this one picture. They seemed aware that they were being watched. To Derek, the eyes looked angry about an interruption. A presence that, though seemingly unnoticed by the nurse holding him, was clearly known by the baby.

  “Michelle Pettingall, I assume?” Derek thought and began to wonder what kind of man Straus was to have taken these secret pictures and to have kept them in a file for over twenty years. The thought of what Straus may have been doing while looking at the pictures caused Derek to drop them and then to rub his hands clean on his jeans.

  “Sick bastard,” he thought of Straus.

  Next to review were the hundred or so medical notes, Some were printed and many were handwritten in a journalized format. As his eyes were growing weary, Derek flipped through the notes and only paused to read a few. Those he read continued to affirm his client’s story and to affirm Derek’s initial impression of Doctor William Straus.

  Patient arrived today. Initial e
xamination confirmed diagnosis of Dr. Adams et al – No heart. No breathing. Skin color=gray. Reflexes very sharp. Dr. Lucietta to run lab tests on pooled blood, skin cells, and muscle tissue. Results in two days. 7/4 1992 DWS

  Patient slept 14 hours. Lung activates upon sleep. Cell regeneration tests inconclusive. Cell transfer ability noted 7/8/92 DWS

  Patient displaying unusual levels of awareness for age. Eye tracking and environment awareness remarkable 7/10/12 DWS

  Derek thumbed through the stack of notes and reached one that explained the dark patches above the eyes of Alexander. He assumed that the initials after the notes were to indicate which doctor was doing the note taking.

  Patient did not respond as expected to shock. Small voltage caused extreme reaction. Highly sensitive to electricity. 2/5/2002 DBL

  Derek continued reading notes that seemed to stand out from the rest.

  Patient displaying unusual strength. Electricity continues to be the best method to subdue. Highly effective, but need to send low dosage only! 5/17/2003 DBL

  Patient move complete. Suite secured. Memory tests to resume in two weeks. 9/3/2005 DTC

  Encountered stranger during outdoor activity. Patient behaved well due to threat of “dog collar” shock. Limit future outdoor activities to evenings and rainy days. 7/9/2013 DWS

  Test results positive!!! A breakthrough at last. Dr Curtis running third round of test against HIV virus to verify results. 7/1/2014 DWS

  Derek placed the final note back into the folder, realizing that there were no more notes dated after the last one. And there would be no more.

  He leaned back into the soft, leather, executive chair, rested his head back and let his mind mull over the pictures and the notes. His mind, however had enough of thinking, and soon Derek was sound asleep.

  When he opened his eyes, Derek saw that Ralph was sitting across the desk from him and seemed to have been waiting for Derek to wake up.

  “How much reading did you get done before you fell into la la land?” Ralph asked.

  “Enough to know that Alexander probably would want to stay out of public as much as possible and that the doctors, Straus, Curtis, and Lucietta, used Alexander as a lab rat.”

  “Ya happento read that last note? The one about the big breakthrough?”

  “I did. Kind of suggests they were on to something with the HIV virus.”

  “Yup. And I went through every other file in the file cabinet over there,” Ralph said as he nodded to Derek’s left, “and didn’t find a single mention of anything related to HIV or any other virus.”

  “Any idea where Straus is?” Derek asked after a short pause.

  “Now that is an interesting question right there, Derek. And one that I truly wish I had an answer to.”

  “I take that as a ‘no.’”

  “Some town’s folk reported that they saw the doctor’s car tooling down Route 8 and moving at a pretty good clip about the same time we figured the murders took place. State police put out an APB on Straus and his car but ain’t nothing come of it yet.

  “I’d really like to talk to that Straus doctor. Specially since your recent investigative find of the trap door under Alexander’s bed. Sure would like to find out why he wasn’t among the victims we found in this lodge.”

  “You liking Straus for an accomplice?” Derek asked.

  “I sure do find it peculiar. The timing of everything, that is. The last note says something about a breakthrough. Two of Straus’s fellow doctors found all dead in that room. Straus’s car seen tooling out of the area. And your discovery. Lots of reasons to be interested in Straus, I’ll admit.”

  Derek paused and began thinking about the note left for him. He wondered if the Hertz clerk had discovered where the note came from. As what became his habit, Derek slowly traced the scar on his left cheek absently as his thoughts drifted to planning his next step.

  “I noticed that scar while you was sleeping. I’ve seen plenty of scars in my day. Spent two years in the Army as a medic. Yup, I sure have seen plenty of scars. But that little beauty you’re sporting, I find to be interesting.”

  Derek dropped his hand to his lap and asked, “Why do you find it interesting?”

  “Funny thing about scars,” Ralph said looking down, “see enough of them and you can tell what caused them. It ain’t much of my concern, but I have to say that you’re little reminder there is an exit wound. Something went through that there cheek from the inside of your mouth.”

  “You do know all about scars, Ralph.”

  Ralph, knowing that his curiosity about Derek’s scar was satisfied, and not wanting to find out what drove his guest to create the scar, stood up abruptly.

  “I do not know about your digestive system, but mine is telling me that it needs something to do. Now, this town may be small, but it has one of the best diners this side of Texas not four miles from our exact location.”

  “Sounds good. Any place to get cleaned up first? I have an overnight bag in my car that’s parked up the road a bit.”

  “I took the liberty of moving your car down closer to us. Didn’t think you’d mind all that much. And since you left your keys and wallet out in the kitchen, why I thought you were all but requesting me to get your car.”

  “Thanks. Have any trouble finding it?”

  “One of my officers spotted it around an hour ago. Gave me a call and told me where it was parked.”

  “I do apologize again for breaking into this place. And again thank you for holding off sending a bullet into my head.”

  “As I said before, there’s still plenty of time. But right now the only thing I am thinking of is to getting some eggs and toast into my belly. Go get your stuff from out of your car so you can get yourself all prettied up like a good city boy.”

  As Derek began walking out of Straus’s office, he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. A quick check of the caller ID told him that the call was from a 518 area code number.

  “Derek Cole.”

  “Mr. Cole, this is Amanda from the Hertz car rental office in the Albany airport. I got a message from another Hertz team member about a note that was left for you when you picked up your rental?”

  “Yes,” Derek said. “Do you know who left the note?”

  “I wrote the note for you. I received a phone call a little after ten last night. The man on the phone just said he was a friend of yours and to write a note welcoming you to Albany. I’m sorry, but I don’t know the man’s name.”

  “Can you tell me what his voice sounded like?” Derek asked, hoping for some clue.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Cole. I really don’t recall the man’s voice. Will you be needing anything further, Mr. Cole?”

  “Any way to trace the call through your system?”

  “Again, I’m sorry, Mr. Cole. We really have no way to trace any incoming calls. We do appreciate your loyalty with Hertz, and if you should need anything regarding your current rental, please don’t hesitate to call. Have a great day!”

  Ralph heard enough of the conversation to know that Derek received no information about who left the note for him. While knowing would have made his case less of a mystery, Ralph could tell that the mystery surrounding the note was bothering Derek much more than it was bothering him.

  Ten minutes after getting the call from Hertz, Derek and Ralph climbed into Derek’s rental car and headed out for breakfast.

  “Now, I know I told you this diner is but four miles away. And that is the truth of the matter. However, I’m gonna ask you to add some miles to that and drive around a bit.”

  “Something you need to see or do?”

  “If you are going to be my freelance assistant on this case, you need to get a lay of the landscape. I’d like to start by showing you where our third victim, Roger Fay lived.”

  “Sounds fine to me.”

  As Derek backed out of the crushed stone driveway of Straus’s lodge, he took notice of the large maple tree wrapped with police tape almost directly
across from the driveway.

  “I take it that something fatal happened at that tree?” Derek asked as he stopped his car near the tree.

  “Yup. As far as we can tell, that there tree is where Roger Fay was killed. Looks like old Roger had a knife plunged straight through his neck. Damn knife went a few inches deep into the tree itself. Lots of strength to do that.”

  “Then his body was dragged into the lodge?”

  “More likely it was carried. There are no drag marks, just a whole bunch of blood splatters. Like the blood had fallen from a few feet above the ground. We found Roger all dead and pretty close to naked on the floor next to them other doctors.”