A Brother's Obsession E-Book

Christopher Coates

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Evan Brown is a disturbed man. For over a decade, the tragic death of his beloved sister has tormented him. His inability to save her has filled him with grief and guilt and is slowly driving him insane.

After a bizarre murder spree begins in Tucson, detectives Dan Felty and MacKenzie Bell begin investigating the case. They scramble to understand the killer’s motives and keep him from killing again. His victims appear to be chosen randomly, and the body count is rising rapidly.

As the detectives get closer to the killer, he lashes out, leaving one of them fighting for his life. But will a figure from the murderer's past be the key to tracking him down... and can he be stopped?

Leseprobe

A BROTHER'S OBSESSION

CHRISTOPHER COATES

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Epilogue

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About the Author

Copyright (C) 2023 Christopher Coates

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2023 by Next Chapter

Published 2023 by Next Chapter

Edited by Terry Hughes

Cover art by Lordan June Pinote

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Chapter1

The young man with nearly shoulder-length blond hair sat behind the wheel of an older silver Toyota sedan in a small parking lot on the outskirts of Tucson, Arizona.

The lot was away from homes and businesses and was where hikers parked so they could explore the desert trails.

As he waited, he watched as the sun started to rise. He’d fantasized about this day for several years, and today he was finally ready.

His heart rate increased because of the excitement of what he had planned. He’d already been parked here for close to 30 minutes, and his anticipation was almost uncontrollable. Mumbling to himself, he repeatedly tapped on the steering wheel, his anxiety needing a release.

While waiting, he imagined who the next person to park would be. Male or female, old or young, it didn’t matter; he just wanted to begin.

Six minutes later, a small blue Ford pickup truck pulled in and parked at the far end of the small packed-dirt lot, bringing a smile to the man’s face.

A man in his mid-thirties stepped out of the truck and casually walked toward the hiking trail, inserting earbuds as he went. The newcomer didn’t look familiar, but that made no difference.

The younger man climbed out of the sedan and put on an old green ball cap. He slipped on a tan vest with large, bulging pockets and took the small, camouflaged backpack from the front floorboard. He opened it and removed three items. The first was a strange-looking pistol that he tucked into the rear of his pants, the second a two-foot-long metal tube, and lastly, a stopwatch that he hung by its cord around his neck.

Moving rapidly, with his barely perceptible limp not slowing him down, he pursued the man who’d already moved out of view on the trail. He soon had the man in sight again and moved along as quickly and silently as possible.

The dirt path had a few hills and turns. Buried rocks were sticking up a few inches in places, creating trip hazards if a hiker wasn’t paying attention. A few feet off the trail, a dozen or more species of cacti grew, some well over 150 years old. As he walked, he took out the odd gun and screwed the long tube to the end, giving the handgun a crazy-looking two-foot barrel. Next, he reached into his vest pocket and took out a device that resembled a two-way radio but with six antennae coming out of the top. As soon as he flipped the switch, the cellular jammer began emitting powerful radio signals on many frequencies that were strong enough to disrupt all cellular and radio devices in the immediate area.

He watched with satisfaction as the hiker slowed, took out his temporarily impaired phone and pondered its useless state.

Because of the earbuds his quarry wore, the young man was able to get within 20 feet before being detected – well within the range of the tranquilizer gun, which he was already aiming.

Before the hiker could turn, the man pulled the trigger, and the pressurized CO2 cartridge fired the four-inch dart, which flew 20 feet to the unsuspecting man.

Designed to deliver medication to cattle, the needle easily penetrated the man’s T-shirt and delivered its payload into the trapezius muscle in his upper back.

The assailant watched as the projectile hit its mark, pleased at how smoothly his attack had gone. As the hiker flailed around, reaching for the dart in his back, he reloaded the gun, certain another dose wouldn’t be needed but wanting it ready, just in case.

“What’d you do? What’s this?” the now-terrified hiker yelled while holding up the expended dart.

The attacker smiled inwardly, feeling victory approaching. He remained silent as his victim continued yelling at him and then again looked at his useless phone. Now it was simple, stay out of reach until his target dropped, then the critical part of the plan would begin.

Stepping off the trail, the pursuer, holding the tranquilizer gun, gave his victim room to return the way he’d come, should he choose to do so.

The hiker yelled some more and then sprinted back in the direction of his truck, choosing not to confront the man who was still pointing a weapon at him. As he headed towards the parking lot, he passed his assailant, who allowed him to continue by.

As the target fled, hurrying towards his car, the man with the tranquilizer gun realized he’d forgotten something and reached for the stopwatch dangling around his neck. He’d intended to start the timer as soon as he fired. He wanted an idea of how long it took for the drug to incapacitate its victim. But, in the excitement, he’d forgotten. Mentally chastising himself, he started it now, deciding to add 10 seconds to the final time. He returned to the trail and followed the man, grinning as he saw him begin weaving and then drop.

Quickly approaching, he paused the stopwatch, seeing it had been only about a minute since he’d fired the gun. He knew the dart had delivered a lethal dose of the drug, so he needed to complete his task before death took the man.

Rolling his prey so that he faced up, the man saw his victim’s eyes rolled back in his head. His target was still breathing, but it was slow and shallow, so he knew he needed to hurry. Setting the pistol on the ground at his side, he removed a full-size spray can from his vest’s oversized pocket. With an ear-to-ear grin, he popped off the cap. He pulled off a four-inch, L-shaped tube he’d attached to the side of the can with a rubber band and screwed it on to the short stub sticking out of the top of the can.

As he completed this, he heard a gasp and the words, “Oh no! What happened?”

Startled, he jerked his head up and, to his horror, he saw a petite African-American woman jogging up, dressed in a tank top with shorts and running shoes.

Quick to improvise, the shooter said, “Hurry! He collapsed. Give me a hand.”

The woman approached, and he concealed the spray can between his victim’s arm and body.

“What can I do?” the jogger asked.

Grabbing the pistol at his side, he aimed at her approaching thigh and fired. She was less than 10 feet away, but in his haste, he missed her flesh and instead hit the fanny pack she wore near her hip. The dart injected its deadly contents harmlessly into the pack.

Confused but recognizing the danger, the jogger turned and sprinted back toward her car.

Cursing, the man sprang to his feet and took off in pursuit. The situation was getting out of control and he needed to fix it fast. He reloaded the tranquilizer gun as he ran. This was the last dart he’d brought, so he needed to make it count.

Having been a sprinter in school, he caught up before the parking lot was in sight and fired into the back of her leg, causing her to stagger as she received the full dose of the deadly substance.

When she stumbled, the killer moved to get in front of her and point the now empty pistol at her.

In a state of near panic and being unfamiliar with weapons, all the woman knew was that she had a gun pointed at her, and she stopped running.

As she instinctively pulled the empty dart out of her leg, he said, “No talking. Now turn around and go back to the guy on the ground.”

Even though partly winded, he managed to keep his voice calm and controlled.

“Why are you doing this? What was in this thing?” She asked with terror in her voice as she held the empty dart up.

Staying calm and using the most menacing voice he could manage, he answered, “If you don’t want to get shot again, stop talking and head back.”

Following his instructions, she turned around and made it about halfway back before her gait changed and she started weaving.

Seeing this, he took his concern off her and sprinted back to his first victim. Reaching the man’s side, he glanced back and saw the woman face-down on the path. He allowed himself to relax. The crisis seemed under control for the moment.

The fear that someone else might come up the path almost made him give up and flee back to his car. But this morning’s effort had been too long in coming, and his obsession with what he was doing forced him to carry on

Retrieving the spray can from where he’d set it, the assailant stuffed the rigid tube attached to the top of the can several inches into the man’s left nostril and squeezed the trigger. As he did, he realized something was wrong. The man had already stopped breathing.

As the can began expelling its contents, the high-expansion insulating foam rushed into the man’s nose, filling the sinus cavity and nasopharynx. Immediately the foam began rapidly expanding to 50 times its original volume and soon blossomed out of the mouth and other nostril.

He withdrew the tube, leaving the can about half full. Feeling for the pulse in the man’s neck, he realized he’d been too late. The man died from the overdose before he could complete the most crucial part of his plan.

Seething in anger, he looked up the path at the woman. Maybe he could still salvage the morning.

Gathering his tranquilizer gun and spray can, he raced to the woman and found that she wasn’t breathing but still had a faint pulse.

Reaching into his vest pocket, he removed a box about the size of a deck of cards. He ripped off the top, exposing the Narcan auto-injector. He’d brought the Narcan in case he accidentally came in contact with the deadly opioid in the darts. Taking the auto-injector out of the box, he removed the orange safety tab and pressed the device firmly against her thigh. A small needle popped out and injected the 4mg dosage, which was intended to revive people from life-threatening narcotic overdoses.

He waited a few seconds and again felt for her pulse. It was gone. The Narcan had been too little, too late. In a fury, he grabbed the spray can and repeated the process he’d used on the man, knowing the futility of his efforts.

As his customary self-disgust returned, he gathered his items and stormed back to his car. He ripped the stopwatch off and hurled it at a large rock, watching it shatter into hundreds of pieces. While walking he chastised himself. “Stupid, stupid Evan. You did it all wrong!”

Chapter2

Detective Dan Felty and his partner Mackenzie (Mac) Bell descended the rear outside stairs of the Tucson Police Department’s midtown office. The two headed toward their unmarked, department-issued SUV. It was early morning, and each carried a freshly filled, reusable coffee cup as they walked.

In his early forties, Dan was clean-shaven, six feet tall and athletic. He’d been on the force for 12 years, six of them as a detective. Mackenzie was newer to the team but still had several years of experience. She was short but extremely fast. Even with her smaller legs, Mac could outrun most of her peers. She had shoulder-length brunette hair, which she tended to wear pulled back while at work.

The pair had been partners for three years and were good friends. Today, both wore light-blue department-issued polo shirts embroidered with the Tucson Police logo on the front.

“Just once, it would be nice to sit down and make some progress on yesterday’s backlog before getting called out again,” Mac grumbled.

“The more you keep wishing for that, the more you’ll be disappointed,” her partner responded with a smile.

The detectives got into the SUV and, with Dan at the wheel, headed away from the station house.

“Two people down on a trail at this time of day. I’m glad it’s early and not too hot yet,” Mac added.

Teasing, Dan said, “See, that’s a much better attitude. Look at the positive side of things.”

Giving her partner a sarcastic glance, Mac added, “You want positive? I bet the victims were outside all night and are half-eaten by critters.”

Laughing, Dan nodded. “Usually, I’ll try to have a more positive attitude, but in this case, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re right.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence, drinking their coffee.

Approaching, they saw the small lot was packed with vehicles. Several civilian cars were present. There was also a fire engine and a large red rescue vehicle from the Tucson Fire Department. Two ambulances and four marked police SUVs, as well as a crime-scene unit and a van with the medical examiner’s logo also occupied the limited space.

“Looks like everyone came out to play today,” Mac commented.

“I see the district supervisor’s vehicle, so try to behave.”

Smiling, she replied, “Who, me? I’m always a good girl.”

“Whatever!” Dan responded, laughing.

Leaving their vehicle, Dan and Mac headed to the trailhead. Yellow crime-scene tape blocked off the mouth of the trail, and a group of their colleagues approached from down the path. Five people were helping guide a yellow ambulance stretcher. Walking up, they could see the situation was more significant than the original message about two people down on the trail suggested.

The person on the stretcher wore the familiar uniform of the Tucson Police Department.

The detectives could see an endotracheal tube coming out of the man’s mouth and attached to a blue Ambu bag. The medic by the head of the stretcher squeezed the bag every few seconds to assist their patient’s breathing. Another of the medics was carrying a bag of IV fluid. The tubing from the bag connected to a catheter in the officer’s hand.

Seeing a fellow officer critically injured immediately changed the detectives’ attitudes.

The final member of the approaching group saw them and waved them over.

Lieutenant Miller was a good leader and the detectives appreciated his attitude and the support he gave his team. He was a tall African-American with almost 25 years in the department.

Dan spoke first, “What’s going on, Lieutenant?”

“You guys sure picked up an interesting one. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. There are two bodies up the trail. Their mouths and noses are full of some kind of hard stuff. It looks like dense Styrofoam to me. When the first units arrived, Officer Hernandez went to look for ID in the woman’s fanny pack. There was a big dart buried into the side of it. He removed it and reached inside. The inside of the pack was soaked in some liquid substance. It probably came out of the dart and got all over his hand.

“About three minutes later, he started having problems, and someone called for another ambulance. By the time it got here, Hernandez had collapsed. Other responders gave him Narcan, and he came around for a minute but soon went out again. EMS arrived by then, and the medics Narcaned him through the IV, and he came around, but he still went out again. They ended up intubating him because his breathing kept stopping.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Mac asked, the concern in her voice evident.

“Not sure yet. We need to know what he was dosed with and what happened to those two up the trail. The crime scene unit is almost done, but I told the ME not to take the bodies until you get a look at them.”

With raised eyebrows, Dan answered, “Interesting. We’ll go check it out.”

As the detectives headed up the trail, the lieutenant called out, “Wear gloves. We don’t need any more incidents from that liquid.”

“Got it,” Mac called back.

“You always want the unusual ones,” Dan told his partner.

“This sure sounds like it’ll be interesting,” she agreed.

The detectives walked a couple of hundred yards before they saw activity. Police and fire personnel stood around a body on the ground. She was a petite dark-skinned female dressed in a tank top and running shorts.

The crime-scene tech and a patrol officer walked up to meet them as they approached. Both looked familiar, but neither detective could place a name to the men.

“Morning, detectives,” the officer said.

Nodding, Mac replied, “The LT says you have an interesting one for us.”

“You can say that again,” the crime scene tech said, handing a clear evidence bag to the detective. Inside was a four-inch-long dart that looked like a 10cc syringe with tail fins on one end and an inch-and-a-half-long needle on the other.

He explained, “The victim had this sticking out of a fanny pack. The fanny pack is already on the way to the lab in a hazmat bag.”

“Any other darts?” Dan asked.

“No, but the victims have puncture wounds which possibly came from them. The shooter must have taken any other darts when he left but missed this one,” the tech explained.

“How long does the ME think she’s been down?” Dan asked.

“Not long. Rigor mortis hasn’t started to set in, and she is still fairly warm. Probably less than an hour.”

Walking up to the woman on the ground, Mac gasped, “What am I looking at?”

What she saw was much worse than expected, based on Lieutenant Miller’s description.

The woman lay on her back and her neck was grossly bulging. A tennis-ball-size mass of yellow dried foam protruded from her mouth, which was open unnaturally wide. More of the foam had collected under her nostrils where it had come out of her severely stretched-out nose.

“I think I know the answer,” the uniformed officer said. “What you’re looking at is insulating spray foam. It comes in a spray can and is used to insulate and fill cracks and gaps. When sprayed out, it rapidly begins expanding when in contact with oxygen. It’ll grow 50 times its original size in seconds. I think someone sprayed it down their throats.”

“You mean that’s one solid piece?” Dan asked.

“Almost certainly. The medics couldn’t remove it. As it dried, it expanded. That’s why her nose and throat are so swelled,” the crime-scene tech added.

Dan appraised the officer. “You seem quite familiar with this stuff,” he said.

“I am. I’ve used it before. There are several brands available that do the same thing. I’ve only been on the department for about a year. Before then, I worked and lived in upstate New York. I’ve used it several times. It does a great job of keeping cold and drafts out.”

“Who would need that kind of insulation here in Arizona?” Mac asked.

“It can be used for more than insulating against cold air. It can seal holes where insects or rodents get into a building, fill cracks in cement or do a bunch of other things. It’s available in hardware stores here. I’ve seen it,” the officer explained.

Both detectives crouched down, examining the now-solid foam.

“Well, this would be a horrible way to die,” the female detective said.

“Not so fast, detective,” the crime-scene tech cautioned.

“What?” Mac asked.

“The guy with the ME’s office noticed something. Look at her eyes.”

Dan, still kneeling, shifted his focus higher on the face. “There’s no petechial hemorrhaging. The eyes look fine,” he noted.

“Exactly. It’s the same with the other victim. Both were dead before he sprayed the foam in. If they’d suffocated on the foam, we’d see the ruptured blood vessels in the eyes,” the tech said.

Looking at the evidence technician, Mac asked, “Did you find anything else of interest?”

“Just this.”

He handed over another evidence collection bag. It contained a scrap of thin white cardboard that had been ripped off a small box. Most of the wording was incomplete, but the pink letters spelling out the word Narcan were legible.

“Where’d you find this?” Dan asked.

“Here next to the woman.”

“Are we sure it wasn’t from any of the responders?” Mac asked.

The officer spoke up, “I double-checked, and they package ours differently. The only time we used any was on Hernandez, and he was down by the male victim. Also, there’s another small puncture on her thigh. Possibly caused by an auto-injector.”

Confused by the situation, Mac asked, “Are there surveillance cameras in the parking lot or on the trail?”

The officer replied, “While waiting for you to get here, I called the city to check, and no. They plan to install some this year but haven’t gotten to it yet.”

Dan paused, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together in his head. Finally, he said to the others, “Anyone have any ideas? None of this makes much sense.”

The man from the crime lab said, “No, none of this makes sense, but our guys found a smashed stopwatch back the way we came. It’s a couple of yards off the trail. We’ll get it to the lab for analysis. Not sure if it is related to the victims or not.”

“Okay, let us know if you find anything else. Does anyone else have any ideas?” Dan asked.

When no one suggested anything, the detectives headed down the trail toward the other body.

Chapter3

Evan Brown fought to control his rage as he drove. His throat felt raw, and his hands hurt from pounding them on the steering wheel as he screamed in frustration. He’d been infuriated since heading back to his car in the parking lot at the hiking trail.

He’d spent months perfecting his plans until he was sure he had everything accounted for. This morning he’d been ready, and then it had all fallen apart.

Taking the two lives had calmed his urge but only to a degree. As with the animals he’d experimented on, sitting back and watching them gasping for their final breath was what he needed to feel at peace. Today should’ve been his chance with an actual human subject.

Part of him was furious the female jogger had chosen that moment to come down the trail. One minute more, and he would’ve been done. The other part of him suspected her arrival didn’t change the outcome much. His initial victim had barely been breathing before the woman arrived. His plan might have still been a failure.

Throughout the planning, he’d been concerned about using carfentanil because of how potent it was. But he needed his targets to go down quickly. He couldn’t afford even a slim chance that they might get away.

Fortunately, he had a plan B. Evan always had a plan B. It had some risks, but it still should work.

His car left the main road and then traveled along several smaller streets before turning into his driveway.

Evan lived alone in a small, rundown rental house where he enjoyed the peace and quiet that desert living offered. The house was isolated, with his nearest neighbor almost a half-mile away. He’d lived here since leaving college and moving to the area almost three years before.

Getting out of his car, Evan headed inside, carrying his equipment. He set the dart pistol on the counter and plugged in the cell phone jammer to recharge.

He had converted one of the home’s small bedrooms into a workroom and he headed there next. He opened the wooden cabinet mounted on the wall, removed a new package of three blue-finned darts, and set them on the white plastic folding table he’d set up under the cabinet.

Returning to the cabinet, he took out a small vial, looked at the label, and saw the word carfentanil. Understanding that this was the drug that had failed him this morning, he put it back and took out another vial. This one was twice the size, and he looked at the label and nodded. This time, things would be different. Checking the clock, he smiled and filled three darts from the new vial. Retrieving the jammer, Evan headed back to his car. He didn’t have to be at work until 3 pm, so there was still time to try again. If he was a little late to work, he wasn’t concerned. They’d never fire him. No one else wanted to do his job.

Chapter4

The plastic tube slid in, and the trigger was pulled. The light yellow insulating foam spewed from the tube connected to the can and into the narrow opening, rapidly expanding. In seconds, the foam insulation pushed all the air from the available space.

Those who’d gathered watched as Detective Dan Felty released the trigger and saw the foam pouring out of the narrow opening at the mouth of the two-liter soda bottle. He’d planned to fill the bottle only halfway, but the thick goo began expanding so quickly that it overflowed the bottle before he could remove the tube.

Mac bent down and touched some of the still-expanding mass.

“It’s very thick and sticky,” she said.

About a dozen of their peers observed the experiment in the back lot of the Midtown Detective Bureau. Everyone on duty had heard about the bizarre call earlier in the morning and was curious about what had happened and why.

After about 20 seconds, the foam stopped expanding, and there was as much out of the bottle as inside.

Mac touched it again. “It’s no longer as sticky and it’s getting rigid.”

“And your guy filled someone's throat with that stuff?” a watching officer asked.

“Yeah, he did,” Mac answered. “Even if someone were conscious, this stuff is so thick they would’ve choked on it.”

A voice in the audience asked, “So, what’s the purpose of your experiment?”

As Detective Felty started to reply, his phone went off, signaling a text message. He noticed Mac had got the same text, so he ignored the phone and answered the question, “We weren’t familiar with spray insulation and wanted an idea of what we were dealing with.”

“Any suggestions on what EMS should do if they find someone with this stuff blocking their mouth and nose?” another voice inquired.

Dan shook his head as Mac spoke. “Maybe the ME will have some thoughts we can share with EMS. We’re headed there next.”

Looking at her partner, she added, “They’re ready to see us. The ME wants us on-site, not on a video call.”

Dan picked up the bottle and handed it to one of the officers in the crowd so it could be passed around.

As the detectives headed to the car, Dan said, “What do you think?”

“The test using the bottle was interesting, but seeing how it expanded doesn’t help me understand why he did this. Did he know his victims? Were they random? Will there be more attacks? Was the foam a message after he killed them? Still no answers,” Mac said.

Several minutes later, Dan and Mac arrived at their destination and headed into the medical examiner’s office, a location with which they were all too familiar.

Their credentials gained them access to the old three-story building, and the pair waited while the receptionist paged the examiner assigned to their case.

Dr. Emily Bonter arrived a few minutes later and motioned for the detectives to follow her. She was of medium height with short blonde hair and wore blue scrubs and a white lab coat.

“Why is it when I see something weird, I always know it’ll be you two assigned to it?” she asked good-naturedly.

“What can we say, Emily? We’re more interesting than most of the others,” Mac responded.

Chuckling, Dr. Bonter nodded. “Well, in this case, that sure is true. That’s why I wanted you here instead of on a video call.”

Walking down a corridor, they entered Exam Room 6.

Mac’s nose crinkled involuntarily when she entered the room as the subtle smell of disinfectant and bodily substances hit her. The brightly lit room was always a little too cold for her comfort.

The two victims from the early morning’s events were stripped naked and on stainless steel exam tables with plain white sheets respectfully covering them from the chest down.

Dr. Bonter explained, “This is all preliminary. I haven’t had a chance to complete the full autopsies yet, but I don’t expect to find much other than what I’m about to show you. However, the few things I have so far are quite interesting.”