The Carbon Effect (Mastermind Murderers Series Book 3) Read online

  THE CARBON EFFECT

  by Kristin Helling

  Copyright © 2018 Kristin Helling

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2018

  ISBN: 978-1-946921-98-7

  Adrenaline

  An imprint of Wordwraith Books, LLC

  705-B SE Melody Lane #149

  Lee’s Summit, MO 64063

  e-mail [email protected]

  website www.wordwraiths.com

  Twitter @Wordwraiths

  Edited by Ellen Campbell

  Cover Design by Austin Helling

  Format Design by Kevin G. Summers

  Kristin’s email [email protected]

  Kristin’s website kristinhelling.com

  The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  Dedication

  For Austin

  For Jeni and Rod

  For the Indiepub Support group

  Read BOOK ONE

  in the Mastermind Murderers series

  amzn.to/2nBPq3M

  Read BOOK TWO

  in the Mastermind Murderers series

  amzn.to/2HVJw6m

  “It is not so much the kind of person a man is as the kind of situation in which he finds himself that determines how he will act.”

  ―Stanley Milgram

  Table of Contents

  ONE: Detective Heely

  TWO: Raine Walsh

  THREE: Raine Walsh

  FOUR: Alex Wood

  FIVE: Detective Heely

  SIX: Raine Walsh

  SEVEN: Raine Walsh

  EIGHT: Detective Heely

  NINE: Alex Wood

  TEN: Raine Walsh

  ELEVEN: Raine Walsh

  TWELVE: Raine Walsh

  THIRTEEN: Raine Walsh

  FOURTEEN: Alex Wood

  FIFTEEN: Raine Walsh

  SIXTEEN: Alex Wood

  SEVENTEEN: Raine Walsh

  EIGHTEEN: Alex Wood

  NINETEEN: Tanner

  TWENTY: Alex Wood

  TWENTY-ONE: Raine Walsh

  TWENTY-TWO: Raine Walsh

  TWENTY-THREE: Tanner

  TWENTY-FOUR: Raine Walsh

  TWENTY-FIVE: Raine Walsh

  TWENTY-SIX: Detective Heely

  ONE

  Detective Heely

  He gasped when he saw the deep crimson. Blood. His head swirled and the nausea was right behind it. He needed both hands on the counter to stabilize himself as another deep red droplet rolled down his jawline and splattered in the porcelain sink.

  Jonah Heely dropped the straight edge razor on the side of the sink and reached for a towel.

  “Damnit,” he huffed at his reflection, afraid to lift the towel.

  He turned his head from left to right, examining the shave job. It was luck that he’d been basically finished by the time he cut himself. He removed the towel and replaced it with a tiny piece of toilet paper.

  He was no stranger to blood. He’d almost become immune to it in his line of work. But this blood was his own. He looked down at his waist, just above the tightly wrapped towel, at the still-healing stab wound. The memories of what happened at the stadium were fresh. So many mistakes were made that day, and they preyed on his mind. Every day he ran it over and over, wondering what they could have done differently.

  He stumbled through the crowd, his eyes shifting from person to person. The same. They all looked the same. Sports jocks, dads wearing jerseys, or—there. There was that one football fan who stood out. The one that wasn’t a fan at all. The one that wore the jersey but stuck out like a sore thumb. That was the one he needed to keep his eye on. And he did. Only he’d tripped over a tailgater’s bean bag toss board and stumbled. It was one second, and he’d lost sight of the perp. Somehow when he righted himself the target was gone. Until the target was behind him.

  How did I let that happen?

  It was a mistake he’d never forgive himself for. He traced his fingers over the emerging scar snaking across his abdomen, flanked by dots marking where staples had held him together. That mistake that earned him this stab wound.

  But that wasn’t the only mistake.

  He’d done something that day that cost him the thing in his life that mattered the most: his job. It happened after Vinnie Wilson was caught and the case was reviewed. The entirety of the review happened while he was in the hospital. It was decided that Detective Heely made impulsive choices, such as lending his weapon to a civilian with zero prior gun experience, even if she was aiding in the case.

  He couldn’t help but think the reason for his actions were because he thought he was dead. Dead men don’t have to pay consequences, so why not arm her to scare off a predator, in this case, a serial killer.

  Regardless, he put Raine in danger, and even though it worked out in the end, it could have been much worse.

  That mistake left him suspended with pay pending the final decision. There was the real possibility of jail time, though he wasn’t worried about that—his father always seemed to swoop in and save the day, his reputation in the criminal justice system was almost legendary. Jonah didn’t always like that, but he supposed he might as well reap some benefit from the harsh rearing and pressure he endured as a child.

  He was most likely done there. And if he dodged jail time, the only way he could see things working was to be entirely a private investigator. He’d lose a lot of resources, though could probably still pull some strings here and there with his connections. He most definitely felt the repercussions of his decisions.

  He’d told everyone he was on medical leave without mentioning the suspension he was serving. It sounded better. But that didn’t change the reality that he was rattling around his apartment with nothing to do but dwell on this mess.

  The only way to solve that was to limit the amount of quiet time he gave himself. His mind was never quiet, it was always working.

  He left the bathroom heading for the kitchen and reached for the coffee. Empty. And there on the counter sat a ceramic cone-shaped bowl with a hole in the middle and a handle on the side. With it, a black bag with a vacuum seal. His boyfriend Benjamin had gotten into the craft coffee scene. The single cup brewing process.

  Jonah just wanted a damn cup of brown liquid that got his energy going in the morning. He thought about throwing on some clothes and going down to the shop down the street, but that required getting ready for the day. Even though he’d shaved, he was far from wanting to socialize. So, he filled the pot with water and loaded it into the top of the brewer. He would have been fine with stale instant coffee, but boy did that craft coffee smell good, the aroma of baker’s chocolate and walnut. Once he got the coffee ground and inside the paper filter, he pushed the button.

  When he turned, the colorful display across the room caught his attention.

  Red splotches. Black and white photographs. Strings that connected them. I
t was a map. A timeline. Photos of witnesses and perpetrators and victims. Prominent red circles on the black and white map of the city. Checklists, and mind maps, and brainstorm.

  Jonah had recreated the case map from his office at the precinct. If he couldn’t go to work, he would bring the work home. There was no harm in researching, right?

  The map displayed all the cases he’d been assigned to and worked on the past year or so. He groaned with frustration as he retraced the lines on the map. Something was wrong, and it was his job to right it.

  The end of the prolific serial kidnapper—there were still multiple missing people—and the capture of this kidnapper’s accomplice, Megan. Her name was circled multiple times. She’d actually led him to the serial kidnapper because she’d been the one to kill him.

  Also on the board, for an entirely different case, the murderer Vinnie Wilson, who’d killed three people using the Bystander Effect to his advantage.

  When Jonah studied the map, red arrows and strings always pointed to one thing. The one person connected to each of the murderers.

  In every scenario that he played out in his mind, this person was in the thick of it. How could it be coincidence? In detective work, you learn quickly nothing is coincidental. There was always a reason. The map had to hold the answer, and it was right in front of his face.

  That map that always led him back to one person.

  Raine Walsh.

  TWO

  Raine Walsh

  Raine shifted in her armchair in the lilac office, peering at the man sitting on the sofa, absorbing his body language. Anxious. Fidgety.

  He tapped his foot. He repeatedly rubbed sweaty palms across his blue-jeaned thighs. He couldn’t be much older than she was.

  She reached forward and adjusted the lavender incense, hoping it would relax him. Another thing she’d hoped was that they’d be further along in their sessions than by now.

  “How are you feeling when you’re in the privacy of your own home, Tanner?” she asked and studied his freckled face a moment.

  “I’m never alone.” He shook his head back and forth in conjunction with his sentence.

  “What do you mean? Do you—live with your parents?” she said carefully, not wanting him to feel judged by anything she said.

  “My Mom.”

  “Okay...” She felt the urge to reach for her notebook to jot down what he was saying but decided against it. She didn’t want to spook him, and he was actually talking. Most of the time their sessions entailed sitting together in silence. His mother brought him to the office, and Raine was beginning to think that his parents forced him to come to therapy. And for good reason; he clearly needed help organizing his thoughts and life.

  Raine had always believed that mental health is just as important as physical health, and saw a therapist herself, but when it wasn’t the clients’ decision to seek therapy, the sessions were less apt to be productive. They thought they didn’t need therapy, or in Tanner’s case, he likely didn’t think Raine could help or had the authority to help him. That he thought he should be at some detective or police officer’s office, somebody who could track down and catch the people trying to hurt him.

  She shook the thought away and brought her attention back to Tanner. “Could you elaborate on what you mean by ‘you’re never alone?’” she asked, “It’s okay to take your time, and you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

  He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “In my room... there’s, there are cameras watching me that I have to cover up: in the ceiling, hidden in the vents.”

  She’d already heard about these alleged cameras from his mother. “Why don’t you take them down?”

  “I did put paper up on the ceiling to cover the camera. I put paper on my laptop webcam. I turned off my cell phone. They’re tracking me and following me.”

  She’d seen paranoid before, but nothing like this. He wasn’t telling her that he thought someone was watching him. He was making an outright statement that someone was keeping tabs on him. That was the difference, and what stood out to her. But she would never tell him that this was all in his head. She had talked to his mother who insisted she’d searched and found nothing.

  “Do you feel unsafe?” she asked.

  He fidgeted, his eyes shifty. “It’s just... I don’t know. It’s just not right to live this way.” He leaned down and put his fingers in his hair, yanking at the ends. “I don’t know what they want from me. I don’t know why they’re watching me.”

  “Okay. Here, let me get you a drink of water.” She rose gracefully and poured him a glass of iced lemon and cucumber water from the cart by her desk. “You don’t believe me,” he muttered.

  “What makes you say that?” she asked.

  “You think I’m crazy.”

  “I don’t like to use that word, Tanner.” The smile faded from her face. She tucked a lock of her hair, recently cut into a chin length bob, behind her ear.

  “If you took me seriously, you’d have alerted authorities by now.”

  “Are you thinking about hurting yourself?” she asked.

  He shook his head no, disgust on his face.

  “Are you thinking about hurting others?”

  Again, another shake.

  “If you’re not thinking about hurting yourself or others, which is something I would and am obligated to report, anything we discuss in this session is between me and you. It’s strictly confidential. I’m here to help you organize your thoughts and learn how to cope with the feelings you’re feeling. You don’t have to understand them.”

  “You don’t believe that there are actually people following and studying me.”

  “Well, you know, we’re trying to investigate that. But the fact that you’re worried about whether or not I believe you, makes me think you’re having doubts yourself. You don’t have enough evidence to know why or who is tracking you. And this is truly affecting your life.”

  He scoffed, though he didn’t seem to disagree with her statement.

  Raine continued, “You’re allowing it to alter the way you experience technology. The way you interact with others. Even down to paying for everything with cash. You’ve closed your bank accounts, you refuse to use the computer. What are you doing that makes you think people are watching or tracking you?”

  He sat back. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to talk about it anymore today.” He crossed his arms over his chest like a child.

  She saw the frustration playing on his face. She let out a gentle sigh. Am I even getting through to him?

  “I’ll tell you what, Tanner. I have a friend who’s a detective. He’s not technically serving right now so he does have some extra time on his hands. I could ask him to do some searches for you. Just on your identity. I’m not sure about him actually going to your residence.”

  She recalled his Mother telling her that it had gotten to the point that Tanner had called the police. They came out several times to check his apartment for the cameras he claimed were there and found nothing. After the first time they searched and found nothing they saw it as wasted resources. Furthermore, someone else could really be in danger. The Boy Who Cried Wolf, if you will. The reason he sat in front of her now.

  “I would really appreciate it if you’d ask your friend to look into it for me.”

  “Okay, I can do that.” She folded her hands on her knees. “All right, let me get you set up with Sylvie for your next appointment and we can talk about what happens with my detective friend next time.”

  Raine ushered Tanner out of the room and set him up for another appointment at the desk of her faithful receptionist, Sylvie. She’d picked up her notes and headed back to her desk when a shadow appeared at the doorway in her peripheral vision.

  Raine reached her hand up to her heart with a start. “Geez, Marcus! Knock?” She laughed
sheepishly.

  “Sorry, I just like to watch you work.”

  “If you even knew the session I just had... that is NOT funny.” She laughed nervously.

  “There’s a candidate here to see us.”

  “Oh, yeah? I don’t recall anyone applying. Was it scheduled?” she asked, organizing the notebook and papers on her desk.

  “She just showed up, actually. But you don’t have another session for a few hours, so do you want to interview her with me?”

  She turned to face him and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. They were beginning to get a little too long. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go to your office.”

  He nodded and they headed that way. When she closed the door to her office behind her, she noticed Tanner was still at the front desk, talking to Sylvie. She could barely get two words out of him during his sessions, but he was talking up a storm with Sylvie. Maybe they should be interviewing her for the third therapist position.

  Raine felt a pang of pity for Tanner. It must be a terrible thing to have everyone from your parents, to the police think you’re unbalanced.

  She was a better psychologist, a better therapist, a better life coach, because of the experiences and horrors she’d endured over the last year or so. She experienced firsthand what it was like for authorities not to believe you, to feel like nobody could help you. She’d had to explain countless times what happened to her in the prison. Everyone’s disbelief was so pervasive she almost didn’t believe herself. She started to wonder if she’d dreamed it up.

  That exact reason was the motivation behind agreeing to help Detective Jonah Heely when he approached. He has several cases that bore similarities to her own ordeal.

  And though every time she closed her eyes she felt the spray of the murderer’s blood on her face one more bad guy was out of society because of their efforts.

  Marcus’s office was much different from hers. He had deep cherry wood bookcases lining the walls and an orange salt lamp that radiated positive, calming energy. His furniture was Old World style, which was very different from his apartment but still fit his personality to a tee.