Page 101 of Above All Else
My knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, the leather creaking under the pressure. The question hammered in my skull, relentless, like a crow pecking at the remnants of my sanity: when did it start?
Rage boiled beneath my skin, a toxic brew sending perspiration across my brow.
Confrontation was inevitable.
The rational side of me, the one trained to dissect bodies and uncover truths, whispered caution and begged for reason. But the other side, the side that had watched too many good people die, that had seen justice twisted into something unrecognizable, that side wanted to tear into him with the same cold precision I used on the autopsy table.
The headlights cut through the gloom, illuminating the road ahead.
By the time I pulled up to the house, dawn was a suggestion on the horizon, a pale light that did little to warm the chill in my bones. I sat and stared at the front door, the engine ticking as it cooled, my pulse drumming in my ears like a war cry. I was on the edge, teetering between doing the right thing and giving in to the sinister impulses that had been festering since I made the connection.
The truth was a beast in my chest, clawing to get out. It wasn’t just about Amber anymore—it was about June, the woman who trusted me and shared her life with me.
And the man behind that door held the answers.
I stepped out of the car, the early morning air biting against my skin, sharp as the blade twisting in my gut. Each step toward the door was heavy and deliberate, as if I walked into a tomb, or worse, into the truth I wasn’t ready to face.
But I had to know.
I had to make him talk.
The beast inside medemanded it.
And God help James if he didn’t.
I knocked, the sound echoing, each rap a deliberate call to the reckoning.
Susan opened the door, her eyes tired but alert and dressed as though she were on her way out the door. The fresh aroma of coffee drifted from inside, warm and comforting, working to ease the tension in my chest. “Carter, what a pleasant surprise.” She stepped aside, letting me in. “I didn’t expect to see you here. And so early. You must be exhausted working all night. We were just having coffee. Would you like some?”
I stepped inside, glancing down at my scrubs and jacket, the warmth of the house a sharp contrast to the coldness in my veins. James sat rigid at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. Deep lines etched his aging face.
“Actually, I was here to speak with James.”
His eyes narrowed, the mug pausing halfway to his mouth.
“Oh, sounds serious.”
James set the mug down and stood with a grunt.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Susan pulled a mug from the cupboard and poured me a steaming mug without waiting for an answer.
“Thank you, I really shouldn’t. I’ve been up all night.”
She fiddled with the handle on her mug. “I guess that would make sense since you’re working the night shift.”
“It’s temporary until we get caught up.”
Her eyes widened. “You’ve had that many deaths?” She leaned in. “Do we have a bad crime rate here?”
I shook my head. “Nothing like that. Just some technical glitches that set us back.”
“Oh. I see.”
James walked out of the kitchen and glanced back at me. “We can talk in the spare room.”
“Thanks for the coffee.” I left the mug on the table and followed him into the room with a reading area, a chair in the corner, and an old pillow perched on top.
I shut the door as he sat in the chair, his arms stretched out on the flat wooden armrests.