Deadly Deception

by Cade Brogan

  Deadly Deception

  By

  Cade Brogan

  Deadly Deception © 2018 Cade Brogan

  Triplicity Publishing, LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events of any kind, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition – 2018

  Cover Design: Triplicity Publishing, LLC

  Interior Design: Triplicity Publishing, LLC

  Editor: Megan Brady - Triplicity Publishing, LLC

  Thanks to my incredible team of beta readers: Kay, Dana, Paula. Kathy, Laure, Shiela, and Maureen. I couldn’t do it without you. And thanks to my publisher, Alea Hamilton, and my editor Megan Brady. I couldn’t do it without you either.

  For my wife—You changed my life without even trying. Te diligo, mel meum.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Rylee Hayes: CPD Homicide Detective

  Kenzie Bigham: Rylee’s fiancée

  Abby Bigham: Kenzie’s daughter

  Piper Attwater: Abby’s girlfriend

  Mr. Smith: Abby’s dad

  Grandma Marge: Elizabeth’s grandmother

  Gladys and Omar Hayes: Rylee’s grandparents

  Rich Winters: Rylee’s longtime partner

  Claire Robbins: Rylee’s new partner

  Dr. Elizabeth Fields: Physician

  Dr. Addison Marsh: Virologist

  Dr. Gordon Voss: Virologist

  Dr. Jane Aches: Virologist

  Dr. Walter Matthews: Medical Officer, Center for Disease Control

  Dr. Benjamin Holmes: Forensic Pathologist, Medical Examiner’s Office

  Phyllis Sorrensen: Receptionist, Medical Examiner’s Office

  Frank Hopper: CPD Crime Lab Technician

  Cordelia: Addison’s Caregiver

  Buckshot: Rylee’s coonhound

  Snuggles: Claire’s terrier

  “All the world’s a stage. And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.” — William Shakespeare (April 1564 – April 1616)

  PROLOGUE

  Five Years Ago

  Addison labored into her cumbersome suit. Equipped with tubing and a respirator, she wore the work attire of a virus hunter. She was in West Africa, exploring remote caves, searching for the next great deadly pathogen, hoping to discover the next great miracle cure. “Be ready in a minute.”

  “Take your time,” her business partner responded. Gordon was a handsome man in his late forties, tall, dark, and strong; a man from whom she’d hoped for more than a business partnership. Two dates and one decade later, she’d resolved to settle for co-ownership of a struggling biotech company, New Day Pharmaceuticals. Traveling the world, working by his side to outsmart pathogens, at this place in her life, it was good enough.

  “Did you check your batteries?”

  “I forgot, but I will now,” Addison responded, checking the dial. “Two-thirds charge.”

  “Maybe we should go back so you can top it off.”

  “We won’t be down that long,” Addison countered, turning to have him check her seals, knowing that they made the difference between health and exposure.

  Gordon stepped onto the second rung of the dangling wooden ladder, his head shaking slowly.

  Addison smiled, allowing her gaze to linger for a moment. “What can I say? I’m a risk taker.”

  “Yeah, and it’s gonna get you in trouble someday,” Gordon responded, the last sliver of daylight vanishing with his next step downward.

  “Not if I can help it,” she responded, sweeping her net through the dark to catch their first specimen, a Long-Fingered Vesper.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Cold-hearted bitch killed ‘em,” Rylee said, looking up. “She killed her parents, I tell ya. She got ‘em to cash in their savings, turn over the proceeds from the sale of their home, and she killed ‘em.” Her eyes narrowed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Why am I the only one who can see it? It’s as clear as day, I tell ya.”

  “See what?” the newly hired detective asked, removing her sunglasses, and joining the conversation. She was a clean-cut, bi-racial woman, twenty-eight-years-old, wearing pleated trousers and a blue oxford. She had her hair trimmed neatly into a boi-cut.

  “That your new partner’s stuck in a loop, same loop she’s been in for months,” Rich said, collecting Joanna Grey’s file from Rylee’s hand. “Hayes has it in her head that this doer is still alive, alive, and racking up victims, even when a mountain of evidence says differently. Here. See what you think.”

  “I read about this case,” Claire said, opening the file jacket. “Showed up on the front page of our local paper.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Rylee said. “It made national attention, stayed there for weeks. That, and the doer, Joanna Grey, came from around your area.”

  “Funny how things work out,” Claire said. “When I read that article, I never dreamed I’d be moving here. Found her car at the bottom of the Illinois River, if I remember right.”

  “With a big ol’ blood-stained piece of the doer’s shirt snagged on the driver’s window,” Rich said. “Glass probably shattered when the car hit bottom, or maybe Grey smashed it trying to get out.”

  “Blood doesn’t mean she’s dead,” Rylee countered. “For all we know, the bitch left it for us. Left it so we’d think the crash killed her.”

  “See what I mean?” Rich said. “Stuck in a loop. Probably would be too if the doer tried to kill my wife and me and I thought she might try again.” He extended his hand. “Don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” he said. “Rich Winters. On the clock for two more hours.”

  “Pleasure,” Claire responded, shaking it firmly. “You were off the day I interviewed.”

  “Burning some benefit time,” Rich said, unbothered by the fact she’d interviewed for his position. “Glad you stopped by before I got outta here. I’m sure Hayes and I will be talking about you from time to time. And, glad I’ll have a face to put with your name.”

  “You have big plans?” Claire asked. “For retirement, I mean?”

  “Camping,” Rich answered. “Hardly been for ages and plan to make up for it.” He slid his palm over his head. “Might just go from one campground to another, never return to pavement and skyscrapers.”

  “That’s what he says now,” Rylee interjected, “but he’ll tire of it, just wait and see.”

  “Don’t think so,” Rich said, turning her way. “You love Chi-town and this job way more than I do.”

  “You’ll be back,” Rylee said. “You’ll be back, begging for reinstatement before this season comes to an end. You’ll be back, you’ll see. You’ll be back because being a cop’s in your blood, just like me.”

  “Guess we’ll see, won’t we,” Rich said, dropping into his seat.

  “Well, I should be going,” Claire said, returning the file to Rylee. “See you in the morning.” With next to no experience as a homicide detective, and all of what she did have, from working in a highfalutin Boston suburb; she’d be lucky if she could do the job.

  “Yeah,” Rylee said, “in the morning.”

  “Friendly enough,” Rich commented, watching the muscular woman banter her way through and out of the bullpen. “And folks seem to like her.”

  “I suppose,” Rylee said, “but being likable doesn’t mean she’s right for the job.”

 
; “No,” Rich said, “but it doesn’t mean she’s not.”

  *

  The room smelled of coffee, yeast, and cigarettes that next morning as it did on any other morning. “I brought bagels,” Claire announced, taking a second to take in her new partner as she stepped into their pod. “And strawberry cream cheese, low-fat,” she added, taking a sip of latte.

  “That’s nice,” Rylee said, looking up for a fraction of an instant, “but we usually pick up day-old from the donut shop.” She was a masculine woman, lean and fit, with olive-colored skin. Her deep brown hair was feathered above her eyebrows.

  “So, I gathered,” Claire responded, having noticed the open box, complete with dried-out samples. “I just thought I’d do something a little different.” She tilted her head. “You know, doing my part to break the cop stereotype.”

  Rylee nodded. “Yeah, well, I guess if the guys don’t like ‘em, you can take ‘em home with ya tonight.”

  “Yeah, I guess I can,” Claire answered, stepping around to look over her shoulder. The bullpen was set-up so that partners faced one another. “So, what are you working on?”

  “What I always work on first thing,” Rylee answered, “the Grey case. One of these days I’m gonna catch the bitch.” Her breath blew across the pages of her file. “She’s gonna slip up, and when she does, I’m gonna be there to slap on cuffs.”

  “Fresh pair of eyes?” Claire offered, holding her hand out, palm up.

  “Yeah, sure,” Rylee responded, handing her the file. “Need a fill-up?” she asked, tipping her mug for the last drop.

  “No, I’m good,” Claire answered. “Too much caffeine makes me jumpy.”

  “Helps me focus,” Rylee responded, stepping off. When she returned, she emptied three packets of sugar into steaming black coffee.

  Claire cocked her head. “Sport Peppers?”

  “Yeah,” Rylee responded, smiling as she looked at the graphic on her mug. “My step-daughter, well, my almost step-daughter, her school sells ‘em as a fundraiser. She’s in the marching band, a drummer.”

  “High school?”

  “No, middle,” Rylee said, reaching into her back pocket, and opening her wallet. “This is Abby.” She pointed to the image of a clean-cut, bi-racial adolescent, sporting a boi-cut. “She marched in the Macy’s Parade this year.” Her brown eyes took on a sparkle. “Did a pretty good job if I might say so myself.”

  “I’ll bet she did,” Claire responded, studying the adjacent photograph. “And this one? Is that you and your fiancée?”

  “Yeah, that’s us,” Rylee said, smiling. “Taken last summer at our engagement party.”

  “She’s a pretty woman,” Claire commented. “Good lookin’ family.”

  “Thanks,” Rylee responded. “How about you, you have anyone?”

  “No,” Claire said, pausing for a long drink of latte. “Just me and my little dog.” She released a breath when the phone rang, sending them out on what could be a triple homicide.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “So, what’d you think,” Rylee asked, dropping in on the passenger side.

  “Think?”

  “About Grey, I mean. You think she’s dead or alive?”

  “Alive,” Claire responded, zipping through a parking lot and across four lanes of traffic with lights but no siren.

  Rylee lifted an eyebrow, checking her seatbelt as they jockeyed between two cars.

  “She’s too conniving to be dead,” Claire went on, glancing over and back to the road. “Good grief, we had her dead to rights.” She shook her head, her upper lip curling slightly. “No, a woman like that, she doesn’t manage to kill an officer, slip away unnoticed, and then just happen to die in a car crash on her way outta town. No, she’s not dead, she’s very much alive.”

  “Yep, my sentiments exactly,” Rylee responded. “And I can’t help but think she’s coming back, maybe already has. You know, to try to finish what she started.”

  Claire nodded, darting between a semi and a garbage truck, not caring that the semi driver laid on his horn. “She’s cocky enough to try, that’s for sure. Cocky bitch’ll probably get right back under our nose, thinking we’re not gonna catch her. But we will. You just watch. Before you know it, we’re gonna be slappin’ on the cuffs.” She smiled, looking over. “And, I didn’t just say that to make you like me.”

  “I like you already.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do,” Rylee responded. “It’s just that Rich and I, well, we worked together for a long time.”

  “I know you did,” Claire responded, exiting the expressway, going twenty over the speed limit. “And I respect that. I respect it, but he’s on his way to Georgia. And you and me, well, we’re partners now. And I think it’ll work a whole lot better if you try to like me, at least a little.”

  Rylee cocked her head; her chin tucked down. “I don’t dislike you, Robbins.”

  “Maybe not,” Claire responded, “but you don’t like me. You don’t think I’ve got what it takes to do the job. But I do.” She stopped when the light turned red, changing the subject. “So, the hospital we’re going to, wasn’t it the one that was built in the mid-eighteen-hundreds?” Her eyes narrowed. “The one that used to be the County Insane Asylum?”

  “What are you a trivia champ or something?”

  “No,” Claire said, shrugging her shoulders. “I just read, that’s all.” When the light turned green, she moved forward.

  And the white economy sedan followed her around the corner.

  “Our turn’s up ahead, right?” Claire asked, turning on her signal.

  “Yep,” Rylee said, “on Oak Park.” She smiled slightly. “For just moving here, you know your way around pretty well.”

  “Studied the map, studied it until I knew it backward and forward.”

  Rylee nodded, guilt slicing through the bottom of her stomach like a sharp knife through warm butter as the psychiatric facility came into view. It was a familiar pain, one that she’d endured since elementary school, since her mom’s first hospitalization there. She should’ve visited more often, should’ve kept better track of her through the years. She couldn’t help it that she was mentally ill. But seeing her, seeing the crazy in her eyes, it made it too real.

  “Can’t wait to hear what took them so long to call us.”

  “Yeah, you and me both,” Rylee answered. “Must’ve seen something on the autopsy, that’s all I can figure. I tried to get him to go into specifics on the phone, but he wouldn’t. He just kept saying he wanted to talk in person.” As she prepared herself to work a case involving poison, her thoughts swept back to the previous summer: to Joanna Grey’s face, her eyes bulging from their sockets; to the burn of the poison, slithering through her veins, robbing her lungs of oxygen; to Kenzie, sobbing as she cradled her in her arms.

  “Hayes? Hayes, you alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Her eyes widened, coming up on the grounds. “What the hell?”

  “What the hell is right,” Claire mumbled. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen that many wearing hazmats in one location, except maybe in an apocalyptic thriller.” So much bright yellow made the scene seem like a movie set, almost surreal. “Gotta be something contagious…But if it is, then it’s not a homicide…And if it’s not a homicide, then why’d they call us?”

  “Guess we’ll know soon enough.”

  “Guess we will.”

  *

  “ID, please.”

  “Yeah, right here,” Rylee responded, displaying her badge. “Detective Hayes.” She nodded toward Claire. “And my partner, Detective Robbins.”

  “Staging area’s over there,” the suited man said, directing them toward a biohazard bubble, erected some distance from the main door.

  “Dr. Walter Matthews,” Rylee continued, “he’s expecting us.”

  “It’ll be a while,” he responded. “Been a busy morning, you know? How about you go on over and take a seat? If you go in, you’ll have to suit u
p, and that’s where you’ll do it. I’ll call him, let him know you’re here.”

  “Thanks, appreciate it.”

  “Not sure I like the idea of going somewhere I have to suit up,” Claire commented, falling one step behind her. “Not thrilled about catching some virus either.”

  “Suits are air-tight,” Rylee assured, looking over her shoulder. “Got nothing to worry about.”

  “Yeah, right. I’ve read articles. It only takes a hole the size of a pinprick for you to catch something.”

  “Stay back if you want.”

  “I’m not stayin’ back.”

  Rylee smiled. “Okay, so you’re just whining.”

  “Yeah, smart ass, I’m just whining.”

  *

  The sun was at its highest point in the sky when the CDC’s man in charge stepped inside the protective enclosure. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he greeted.

  “Not a problem,” Rylee responded. “Good to see you again.” They’d first come to know one another back when he’d worked at the CDC’s quarantine station, and she’d walked a beat on the shores of Lake Michigan. What was it, ten years now? She nodded toward Claire. “My new partner, Detective Robbins.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” the small-boned man responded, “Winters retired.” He had a bald spot on the top of his head, wore glasses, and had bright blue eyes. He exchanged pleasantries with Claire, noticed her Boston accent, and asked about Rich’s retirement plans.

  “He headed off that next morning for Pine Mountain, Georgia,” Rylee answered. “Plans to keep moving for a while.”

  “I know you’ll miss him.”

  Rylee pursed her lips, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I will.”

  “Played golf in Pine Mountain once,” he continued nostalgically. “Calloway Gardens. Beautiful course.”

  Rylee chuckled softly. “Don’t think he’ll be playing golf.”