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Authors: Shannan Sinclair
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gun and just blew him away.”
“A movie, huh? Was that what was on the television when we got there?”
“We assume so. The only thing on was the TV.”
“What about neighbors? Anyone hear or see anything?”
“Not last night, but the little old lady next door said that Mrs. Parrish had told her that they were having some trouble with Blake—that he was seeing a therapist for behavioral issues, problems at school, defiance, and an addiction to video games.”
“Did you get a hold of that therapist?”
“Yeah, he was called. He refused to disclose information regarding his patient without a subpoena. He works for Chrysalis as a therapist and leads a bunch of addiction programs. He said the video game addiction group is fairly new, but has become popular. He was hesitant, but finally agreed to come by and see Blake—not as a therapist, but just to see if seeing a familiar face would calm him down or snap him out of whatever it is he’s in. I thought it was worth a try since the mother or sister won’t be here until tomorrow. I’m hoping once everything is said and done, this will be a pretty cut and dry case.”
As if a twelve-year-old killing his dad could ever be cut and dry. Mathis left that unspoken. He wasn’t so sure about this case at all. Something about it wasn’t sitting right with him; an uneasy feeling twisted in his gut that he couldn’t shake.
When they took the boy into custody he lacked both the residual heat of homicidal rage and the bone-chilling stare of a cold-blooded psychopath. Mathis had expected a punk-ass perp, a fighter, all blame and no accountability. Instead, the boy seemed was like a wounded, traumatized creature; stains of tears dried into a salty rind on his face, lips sticky with a gloss of blood and matching, bloody kiss prints all over the father’s face. That didn’t add up to cut and dried to Mathis.
“Hey, Jackson. Whaddaya say I come down there and bring you a cup of coffee?”
“If you’re buying, I’ll take a grande, quad shot, skinny mocha with whipped cream.”
Mathis flipped the cell phone shut . It was a damn conspiracy.
He got his wallet out and put enough cash down to cover the tab plus a generous tip for Sabine, for both her service and the pleasure of watching her work. He looked around, trying to find her in the restaurant so he could at least say thank you, or see you later, or let me take you out to dinner; but she was nowhere to be found. Disappointed, Mathis headed out the door.
CHAPTER 6
Aislen clocked in at the hospital with less than a minute to spare. Since running was a no-no at the facility, Aislen did her fastest speed-walk down the hall, threw her bags into her locker, then speed-walked toward the nurse’s station. She hated feeling rushed, but hated being late even more. She was frazzled and edgy, a feeling she’d been fighting all day long. Out of sync with the world, she had dropped things, bumped into people, and hit every single red light on her way in to work.
She arrived at the counter out of breath, just in time to help the charge nurse prep medications for the residents.
“Well, there you are,” Rachel said when she got up to the med cart. “Running late isn’t like you. I was starting to worry.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. Today’s been insane.”
Rachel laughed, “Well, then you’ve come to the right place then, haven’t you?”
Aislen grimaced at her faux pas. When you worked in a mental health facility such as Chrysalis, using words like “crazy” and “insane” was pretty much frowned upon. “I’m sorry...I am so off today.”
“Need a cup?” Rachel gestured to the little pill cups filled with medication lined up on the cart and laughed again.
“Wow. You’re incorrigible,” Aislen responded, finally laughing a little.
“No different than any other day. After 20 years of working here, I’ve a well-developed, sick sense of humor. The cart is ready if you want to do the
“A movie, huh? Was that what was on the television when we got there?”
“We assume so. The only thing on was the TV.”
“What about neighbors? Anyone hear or see anything?”
“Not last night, but the little old lady next door said that Mrs. Parrish had told her that they were having some trouble with Blake—that he was seeing a therapist for behavioral issues, problems at school, defiance, and an addiction to video games.”
“Did you get a hold of that therapist?”
“Yeah, he was called. He refused to disclose information regarding his patient without a subpoena. He works for Chrysalis as a therapist and leads a bunch of addiction programs. He said the video game addiction group is fairly new, but has become popular. He was hesitant, but finally agreed to come by and see Blake—not as a therapist, but just to see if seeing a familiar face would calm him down or snap him out of whatever it is he’s in. I thought it was worth a try since the mother or sister won’t be here until tomorrow. I’m hoping once everything is said and done, this will be a pretty cut and dry case.”
As if a twelve-year-old killing his dad could ever be cut and dry. Mathis left that unspoken. He wasn’t so sure about this case at all. Something about it wasn’t sitting right with him; an uneasy feeling twisted in his gut that he couldn’t shake.
When they took the boy into custody he lacked both the residual heat of homicidal rage and the bone-chilling stare of a cold-blooded psychopath. Mathis had expected a punk-ass perp, a fighter, all blame and no accountability. Instead, the boy seemed was like a wounded, traumatized creature; stains of tears dried into a salty rind on his face, lips sticky with a gloss of blood and matching, bloody kiss prints all over the father’s face. That didn’t add up to cut and dried to Mathis.
“Hey, Jackson. Whaddaya say I come down there and bring you a cup of coffee?”
“If you’re buying, I’ll take a grande, quad shot, skinny mocha with whipped cream.”
Mathis flipped the cell phone shut . It was a damn conspiracy.
He got his wallet out and put enough cash down to cover the tab plus a generous tip for Sabine, for both her service and the pleasure of watching her work. He looked around, trying to find her in the restaurant so he could at least say thank you, or see you later, or let me take you out to dinner; but she was nowhere to be found. Disappointed, Mathis headed out the door.
CHAPTER 6
Aislen clocked in at the hospital with less than a minute to spare. Since running was a no-no at the facility, Aislen did her fastest speed-walk down the hall, threw her bags into her locker, then speed-walked toward the nurse’s station. She hated feeling rushed, but hated being late even more. She was frazzled and edgy, a feeling she’d been fighting all day long. Out of sync with the world, she had dropped things, bumped into people, and hit every single red light on her way in to work.
She arrived at the counter out of breath, just in time to help the charge nurse prep medications for the residents.
“Well, there you are,” Rachel said when she got up to the med cart. “Running late isn’t like you. I was starting to worry.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. Today’s been insane.”
Rachel laughed, “Well, then you’ve come to the right place then, haven’t you?”
Aislen grimaced at her faux pas. When you worked in a mental health facility such as Chrysalis, using words like “crazy” and “insane” was pretty much frowned upon. “I’m sorry...I am so off today.”
“Need a cup?” Rachel gestured to the little pill cups filled with medication lined up on the cart and laughed again.
“Wow. You’re incorrigible,” Aislen responded, finally laughing a little.
“No different than any other day. After 20 years of working here, I’ve a well-developed, sick sense of humor. The cart is ready if you want to do the
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