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

by T Patrick Phelps

  He hoped that somehow Michelle had very selective amnesia and had forgotten that it was he who had delivered the heartless baby to Hilburn. He feared that if he mentioned those first days to her, that her amnesia might evaporate, and she would realize what a monster of a person she had married.

  He kept everything buried deep inside, and though the memories often tried to escape, he was resolute in his convictions to keep what he had been a part of hidden.

  The only time that Alexander Black was mentioned after Michelle left Hilburn was the night after he told her that he had cancer.

  “Maybe my disease is my punishment,” he told her.

  When Ralph Fox called Michelle and told her about the murders, she didn’t react the way Ralph probably expected her to react. The fact that people she knew had been murdered and that her husband’s name was on a list of probable victims just increased her determination to keep Stanley safe. She knew that ignoring the repeated calls from Ralph Fox and from the number her caller ID told her was coming from the New York State Police, was probably making them suspicious about Stanley and her. Yet she didn’t care what anyone thought.

  When she read about Mark Rinaldo and Henry Zudak being found dead, she didn’t care. They were distant memories for her, and while they were close with Stanley, he didn’t need to know that they had been murdered. He didn’t need to know anything that was going on around him.

  Each morning since receiving that first call from Ralph Fox, Michelle would replace the battery in her phone, certain to leave it in for only the time it took to check for messages. Then the battery was pulled so that no one could trace where she and Stanley were. She paid for the resort room and every purchase she made using cash,

  Leave no clues.

  She thought about contacting Ken O’Connell and pleading with him to leave her husband alone.

  “He doesn’t have much time left,” she would tell him. “Killing him won’t give you any feeling of revenge. He’s dying because of what he did to your son. Isn’t that enough?”

  But she never called. Calling wouldn’t stop anything. Her husband was going to die. Soon. And there was nothing she could do about it except choose the cause of his death.

  She thought for a fleeting moment that perhaps Alexander Black killing her husband would allow him to avoid the pain that would certainly be coming. But that thought was banished. Though she knew she couldn’t prevent his cancer from killing him, Michelle knew that she could prevent Stanley from being murdered.

  And that was exactly what she intended to prevent.

  As she heard him stir in the bedroom, she wiped her eyes clean of the few tears that had formed, adjusted her hair and clothes, and prepared the smile that would greet her husband to this new day.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “If he didn’t get on the plane, then his wife is in on whatever it is he’s been doing,” Derek said, still shocked.

  “And maybe their son, your client,” Smith said. “Though I have a feeling that this is all Ken O’Connell’s plan, and his wife is just going along with things to keep him happy. His son is probably in the dark.”

  “Y’all have any idea where Doctor William Straus is?” Ralph asked.

  “No idea. Derek?” Smith asked, nodding at Derek.

  “No idea. But if he’s not involved in assisting the O’Connells, he is probably hiding somewhere and isn’t likely to reveal his position anytime soon. Have you been able to contact Stanley or Michelle Mix?”

  “Called the cell phone registered in their name. No answer. I checked with their service provider, and they told me that their phones haven’t pinged any towers since the day after the bodies were discovered here. Either they have pulled the batteries or have disabled network data and location services. Or, they’ve been visited by our suspects, and their bodies just haven’t been discovered yet.”

  Derek glanced again at his iPhone and saw that he had received another text from his client. It read “have you called my father yet???”

  “I assume that you want me to call Mr. O’Connell now?” Derek asked Smith as he sent a message back to his client stating that he was about to make the requested call.

  “Not yet,” Smith said. “We first need to get things set up so we can get a location on O’Connell’s cell. I’ll need to borrow your phone for a few minutes. When you do call, you just need to do and say exactly what I tell you to say. If he asks you a question that we haven’t prepared an answer for, look at me, and I will write out what you need to say. Do not even think of going freelance on his, Cole. I know that freelancing is your thing, but it will not be tolerated. I hope you understand.”

  Nothing was making sense to Derek. In every one of his previous cases, there was a line that needed to be followed. Every line had a starting point and an end point. The starting point was created when someone did something which made someone else upset, concerned, or downright pissed off. End point was providing the client a satisfactory resolution. Connect the two points with as straight of a line as possible, get paid, and move on.

  But with this case, Derek didn’t know what or where the starting point was nor what ending would be considered a desired resolution. While he did work closely with police departments in many of his cases, this case had now found him under the control of the authorities. He was expected to do exactly what Captain Smith wanted him to do and to suppress his own instincts.

  As Smith stood, arms crossed, waiting for him to comply, Derek decided to do what Smith expected. Then, as soon as possible, he would get as far away from Piseco Lake as possible and run his case the way he knew the case should be run.

  “So,” Derek said, “how long till I can make that call?”

  “Twenty minutes,” Smith said.

  Smith left Derek and Ralph alone in the entry room. There, the two men sat in absolute quiet. Both were processing the information that they had just learned from Smith, and both were wondering how Ken O’Connell came to learn about Alexander Black.

  “We seem to still have some pieces missing to this jigsaw puzzle,” Ralph said, breaking the silence that had lasted several minutes. “But this new information also some pieces together nicely.”

  “Like what?” Derek asked.

  “Seems to me that Straus isn’t running because he is helping Alexander Black, but because he must’ve seen what Black did here and didn’t want to have his body added to the pile. And wherever he did run off to is somewhere that he feels will be as far away from Black as possible. To me, this new info rules out everyone but the father from the list of suspected accomplices. You see things any different?”

  “Not sure yet,” Derek said. “I mean, until we know if or how the father may have found out about Black, we can’t assume to understand his reasons for not flying off to the sunny Bahamas. He may have stayed back to make sure his son – my client – is safe or to talk him into flying to the Bahamas with him. We don’t know. Way too many options. And until I know his reason for staying and exactly where he is, Straus is still a suspect. Maybe he got tired of hiding Black and made a deal with Ken O’Connell. ‘Everything you ever wanted to know about that day you thought your son died but were afraid to ask’ sort of deal. Maybe Lucietta is involved somehow. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I need to find William Straus. Now more than ever.”

  “You think your client knows what his daddy has been up to?”

  “Something tells me that he has no idea. Not sure why I feel that, but I do.”

  “Didn’t you tell me that his daddy suggested that your client hire you?”

  “He did. According to my client.”

  “Then why would your client’s daddy suggest that you get on the case if he’s the one you’re looking for?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he thought that we wouldn’t find out that he never left town or maybe he wants me involved for another reason. I don’t know.”

  “Well, you’re about to find out,” Smith said to Derek as he walked back into the lo
dge’s entry room.

  After spending ten minutes telling Derek exactly what to say and what not to say, Smith handed Derek his phone back.

  “Remember, you need to keep him on the call for at least ninety seconds and, whatever you do, don’t tell him that you’re with any police agency and make damn sure that you act like you believe he is on some beach in the Bahamas. Clear?”

  “Clear.”

  The phone rang twice before being answered.

  “Ken O’Connell.”

  “Mr. O’Connell,” Derek said. “This is Derek Cole. Your son asked me to give you a call about the case I was hired to assist with.”

  “Took you damn long enough to call me,” Ken barked. “I trust that you understand that while my son contacted you, the money you’ve received came from me. That makes me your client, and if I want something from you or need you to do something, I expect your full compliance. Is that understood?”

  “Understood. How can I help you?”

  “Where are you right now?” Ken asked.

  “Sitting in my car down the street from Doctor William Straus’s lodge in Piseco Lake New York,” Derek delivered his instructed response.

  “Have you contacted or are you working with any of the local police?”

  “I’ve met Chief Ralph Fox but am not working with him. He’d prefer that I just stay out of his way.”

  “And that’s what I want you to do as well,” Ken said, his voice sounding somewhat relieved. “I don’t know why the hell you felt it was important to be up in that area in the first place, but I am not going to tell you how to run your investigation. I am, however, going to tell you what I need you to find out from this point forward.”

  “And that would be?” Derek asked.

  “Find William Straus, Brian Lucietta, and Stanley Mix. I need you to find them and keep them safe. I want to punish those assholes for what they did to my family. Not that I wouldn’t be glad if they were killed, but I want to make them suffer in the a court of law and in prison.”

  “I understand. Do you have any suggestions as to where Straus and Mix may be holding up?”

  “If I knew that I wouldn’t need you, would I?”

  “Just trying to save you some money, Mr. O’Connell. The longer I spend on this case, the higher your bill.”

  “Don’t worry about my bill. In fact, I’ve arranged to have another payment transferred to your account tomorrow.”

  “Much appreciated,” Derek said.

  “I want you to call me twice a day, every day with updates. Call me at 8:00 a.m. and 8:00 p.m. Understood?”

  “Absolutely. How long do you plan to stay in the Bahamas?”

  “I’m not in the Bahamas, Mr. Cole. Never got on that plane. Never intended to. My wife is down there, and my son believes that I am with her, and I need you to assure me that you will not tell anyone that I am not where everyone thinks I am.”

  “Where are you?” Derek asked.

  “Chicago.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Chicago?” Derek questioned. “If the police find out that you’re in Chicago, then you’re going to quickly become a very sought after person.”

  “You think that I’d actually leave town without my son?” Ken responded.

  “Which son?” Derek asked.

  “Don’t be a smart ass, Cole. You know I’m talking about Thomas. I found out about what the doctors and Saint Stevens did six months ago. I’ve been planning exactly how I was going to get my revenge when I got a call from Ralph Fox, telling me that Alexander Black had killed three people and had listed my family on his hit list. I’ll tell you that I am not at all upset that those bastards are dead. Wish I had the courage to kill them myself. But now that Alexander has made his intentions clear, I am focused on keeping my family safe and making damn sure that Straus, Lucietta, and Mix don’t get killed before I can make send them to prison.

  “Mix is dying of cancer. He doesn’t have much time left, or so I’ve been told. I need you to find him first. I want to look him in his eyes and let him know what a waste of humanity he is. I want the last thing he hears is a jury finding him guilty and the last thing for him to see is seen through steel bars.

  “Find him, Cole. Whatever it takes, and whatever it costs. You find Stanley Mix before Alexander does.”

  “How did you learn about what happened with Alexander?” Derek asked.

  “I got a call from Mix’s wife, Michelle. Told me everything that happened. Every last detail. Also told me that her husband Stanley was dying of cancer. Then she tried to convince me to just leave him the hell alone and that his guilt is what caused his cancer. I told her that I couldn’t care less about what caused his cancer or how long he had to live. I let her know that I would find a way to put all of those assholes in prison and make damn sure that the whole world knew what they did.”

  “If you found out six months ago, why didn’t you go to the authorities then?”

  “If someone called you out of the blue and told you the same story, would you believe it right off the bat or would you do some research?”

  “Research, but not six months of it.”

  “It took longer than you might imagine to verify her story. They covered their asses pretty damn well. The state of New York had zero information on Alexander Black since Straus kept him hidden in some closed-off ward in a now-closed psych hospital. It took a while to pick up a trail, and that trail leads straight to the lodge you are looking at right now.

  “Once I discovered that the story was true, I started planning my next steps. Only thing was my next steps were interrupted by what Alexander Black is accused of doing.”

  “Did you ever see Alexander? I mean, did you ever go out to Piseco Lake to verify?”

  “Mr. Cole, I am a man of resources. No, I never went out to Piseco Lake, but I hired a few people who did all the verifying I needed. I received pictures of Alexander and copies of his entire file two weeks ago.”

  “Mr. O’Connell,” Derek said, “I strongly suggest that you make your location known to the local authorities. Your name was on that list as well for whatever reason, and if the state police or Chief Ralph Fox find out you never boarded that plane, they will come looking for you and will have some targeted questions.”

  “You worry about doing what I am paying you to do, and I’ll take care of myself. I know that my son is safe, but that doesn’t mean that he will stay safe. Find Straus, Lucietta, and Mix. And if you happen to find Alexander Black, give him a message for me.”

  “And that message would be?”

  “To leave my family the hell alone. Call me at 8:00 your time. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  William Straus was conflicted. He didn’t know what to concentrate on. His thoughts flipped between congratulating himself for his cunning and the intense fear that he knew demanded more of his focus.

  When he received the call and heard the demands expected to him, Straus knew he had to respond with caution. Though he offered no resistance, he calculated how he would respond. He practiced which words he would use, how to use them, when, and even the tone of voice he would present the rehearsed words with. But he also planned his approach, and that planning, that calculation, was why he was still alive.

  The caller was viciously clear.

  “Be at your cabin no later than seven in the morning. Alexander and I will be waiting for you. Do not alert anyone about our meeting. Should you have previously scheduled guests planning on arriving, let them keep their schedules. If you decide on inviting anyone else who you feel might give you some negotiating advantage, don’t. You know exactly what this meeting is about and can probably correctly assume our demands. However, if you fail to comply or choose to modify your expected response, our demands will be satisfied in a different manner.”

  William Straus had no intentions of making a risky move. He would comply fully. Do what was asked, exactly as directed. But he also would have h
is own “Plan B” and “Plan C” ready to be implemented. Before any plan was set into motion, Straus designed a prequel.

  He stopped his car a full half-mile down the twisting, tree-lined road that housed his lodge. It was still dark when he shut his BMW off and disappeared into the thick woods. The closer he got to his lodge, the slower and quieter he made his pace. When he was within a safe viewing distance, he opened his gym bag, pulled out a long sleeve shirt and sweat pants, and put them on over his Jos A Bank gabardines and crisp, white pinpoint Oxford. He found a low bush that afforded excellent cover and crawled beneath its concealing bows.