The Good Lie by A. R. Torre

Author:A. R. Torre [Torre, A. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542020169
Google: Cj73zQEACAAJ
Amazon: 1542020166
Goodreads: 56238004
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2021-07-14T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

My first concern was for Matthew, our third partner. The tiny psychologist had the physical presence of a field mouse. I hissed at Meredith to call his cell and hoped the man was tucked inside his office, the door locked. Luke shouldn’t go after him. If anything, as soon as he saw my wall of BH Killer notes, he’d misunderstand them and come for me.

“What’s wrong?” Meredith asked, coming to stand beside me. “I mean, aside from the obvious. You look pale.”

“He’s in my office.”

“So?”

“He’s got something against Randall Thompson. Just now, he asked if I represented him.”

“Which you don’t.”

“Yeah, but—” I waved a hand in the direction of my office. “That’s not what he’s going to think when he sees all my work in there.” The victims’ names, in chalk on the wall. The columns. The notes. Crime scene photos, pinned up in a neat grid. It’d be impossible to miss. I lifted my head, listening. Luke was quiet, probably standing in place, staring at it all.

What was taking security so long?

“Do I want to know what this guy’s kink is?” Meredith asked softly.

“I wish I had an easy answer for that.” In layman’s terms, Luke was a walking train wreck. In non-layman’s terms, he was best conceptualized as recurring patterns of covariant traits rather than a single diagnostic category.

“But he’s violent?”

“He has a temper, which he loses often.” But it wasn’t just a temper. There was premeditation behind his outbursts. The incident with his sister occurred after Luke bought two cans, filled them with gas, and then sat for two hours outside her work, waiting for her to get off. Two hours where his anger built and solidified into a firm and deadly resolution. “Yes,” I amended. “He’s violent.”

A knock rattled against the door, and we both jumped. “Don’t say anything,” Meredith whispered.

“Dr. Moore? Dr. Blankner? It’s Bart, from the front desk.”

I immediately flipped open the lock and cracked the door for the security guard. “Do you have him?”

“They stopped him just off the elevators and have him at the desk.” Bart ran a hand over his smooth head, then scratched the back of it. “He’s saying he didn’t do anything wrong, other than breaking a lamp, which he said you can bill him for.”

“Okay.” I straightened my blouse, a little embarrassed that we’d been cowering in the office like babies. “Dr. Reeker—our psychologist. Is he okay?”

“I’m fine.” A sheepish Matthew peeked around the corner. “I was making contingency plans if Mr. Attens decided to break my door down. He didn’t.”

“I almost wish he had,” Bart said, unclipping a walkie-talkie from his belt. “Then we could call the police and file an assault charge. As it is, we have to let him go.” He brought the radio up to his mouth and relayed the instructions.

“That’s fine.” I hugged myself. “I just want him out of here. Can you keep him from coming back?”

“Yeah, they’ll add him to the list now. Don’t worry, Doc. We’ll keep you guys safe.

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