The Suicide King Read online

  Luke didn't say a word. Only lifted his strong chin back in her direction as the dispatcher tried to keep her on the line while they sent someone out. Alecia wasn't listening anymore. She was lying on the dewy grass with her arms folded over her face, sobbing. Breaking right in front of me. Because of me. And I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

  3

  This was my own personal hell. I didn't want to stay here. The moment flashing blue lights came over the ridge, I wanted to disappear. With Luke pushing me from behind, my legs carried me in the opposite direction of the way I wanted to go—to face the reality of what I'd done. Across the field toward Cameron Hodge. We'd worked together for the last ten years. Cam was one of the good ones. He didn't play into the office politics or get sucked into any of the other bullshit that went on upstairs with the brass. He kept his head down and did his job.

  He made his way to the truck first, pulled on a pair of gloves, and opened the passenger door. I turned away, but I knew what he was doing. He was checking for proof of life, which he wouldn't find. It didn't take long until I heard the door shut and the snap of the gloves coming off. He'd be tucking them inside out, one inside the other.

  Cameron made his way to where Luke was standing. Right at six feet tall, he hiked his gun belt up against his bulletproof vest before he dropped to one knee in front of Alecia. Those vests were a bitch to bend over in, let alone kneel.

  Alecia was still lying on her back in the grass with her arms folded across her face. Her sobs had stopped.

  "Ma'am, are you all right?" Cameron gently touched her left elbow.

  She dropped her arms and tilted her head to the side, watching him with puffy red eyes. "I don't know what I am."

  He let out a small grunt as he got back to his feet and offered her a hand. After a moment of looking at his hand, she took it and got to her neon-colored feet, brushing the grass off her running attire.

  "Can you tell me what happened?"

  Alecia sniffed and gestured to my truck behind them. "I was out for my morning run and then I passed this truck. At first I didn't know what I was seeing, and then I got closer and I thought it was a joke, ya know?"

  Cameron nodded, his notepad already in his hand. "What time was this?"

  She shrugged, her gaze going up and to the right as she tried to recall. "Uh, I think it was around six thirty or seven, maybe? I usually leave my house a little after six and try to run five miles, but I left late this morning, and I was only about a mile and a half in when—"

  I shoved my hands through my hair and paced back and forth in front of them. Luke's eyes raked me up and down. His face pulled into a sneer of judgment. Taking victim and witness statements were always rough. But this was a direct result of my actions and I hated it. Cameron asked her a couple more questions and then asked her to stay put where she dropped back down to the grass like a disgruntled teenager.

  "What's he doing now?" Luke asked.

  "Probably securing the scene to make sure it's undisturbed until the coroner gets here. Do we have to stay for this?"

  "Yep."

  "Why?"

  "Ripples."

  Cameron let out a huff as he made a call over the radio for the coroner and another car to take Alecia home. He popped the trunk of his cruiser and pulled out yellow police tape, leaving the trunk ajar as he walked to a tree about fifty feet from the front of Optimus Prime. It only took him a few minutes to create a large triangle, blocking off my truck. Once he was finished, he tossed the tape back in the truck and grabbed two bottles of water from a cooler.

  "Here," he said as he handed one to Alecia and sat down beside her in the grass.

  She twisted off the cap and chugged half the bottle. "Thanks."

  "This doesn't seem to be affecting Cameron the way you think it does," I snarked at Luke.

  "Then you're not watching," he bit back.

  The two of them sat in silence, neither saying anything to the other. Even though the birds were chirping and the wind was carrying the scent of spring and everything in bloom in its breeze, the silence was heavy with the burden of death hanging dark over the cloudless sky.

  As Luke watched me, I watched them…seeing what I'd done and how it was changing their lives. The sound of tires on gravel forced my attention to the black Crown Victoria pulling up to the scene and the coroner and his assistant getting out.

  "Hey, Hodge, what do we have?" Gates, the coroner, asked as he grabbed his kit and headed over to my truck.

  "Looks like a single GSW to the right temple. No pulse. He seems to have been here since last night, but you're the expert. No immediate signs of foul play from what I saw, but I tried to disturb as little as possible while I checked for a pulse until you arrived. A nine millimeter on the floorboard right below the right hand. What looks like a suicide note on the passenger seat. I secured the scene otherwise."

  "Good. Thank you."

  "Oh, and, Gates?"

  He and his assistant stopped. "Yeah?"

  “It's Jason King."

  Is. Not was.

  The way he worded that rocked me, forcing me to take a step back, stumbling into Luke. All of the color drained from Gates's face. The man I'd come to work with and respect for almost two decades. Gates dipped his chin in a tight nod and continued toward the truck to photograph, catalog, and deduce the sequence of events. This was his scene now.

  Cam was the first responder, but Gates was now the one running the show. We'd all done this song and dance together too many times to count…but this time it was different. I wished I could explain why I'd put them in this position. I wanted them to understand. To not judge me for my decision. I hated that they had to be the ones to see me like this, but they were the only ones I trusted to handle this situation with care. I'd changed the stakes and now I had to watch the consequences.

  4

  There was one thing that could never be mistaken for another and that was the police knocking on your door. We were taught to do it to gain the attention of the inhabitants inside. There were two things about this front door that had me taking slow steps backward until I collided with something hard and unmovable. Luke.

  He grunted and shoved me forward to the one thing I never wanted to witness. This front door was painted sunshine yellow. The most obnoxious yellow of all of the yellows in the color wheel. I knew this because it was my front door.

  The door flew open. Grace's face was alight with a big smile. "Hi, Uncle Kyle."

  Kyle Marsh cleared his throat, his police radio mumbling on his shoulder. "Hey, G, is your mom here?"

  Maggie came rushing up behind our daughter, her voice carrying down the entry. "How many times have I told you not to answer the door?"

  The second she saw who was standing in front of her, the color drained from her face.

  She lifted her hands over her mouth, and she started shaking her head back and forth as she backed away. Tears streaked her beautifully freckled face. "Is he?"

  A short shake of the head no was her answer.

  Grace glanced back and forth between my wife and our neighbor and friend. "What's going on? Why are you crying, Mom? What's happening?"

  "I'm so sorry, Maggie. Can we go inside and talk?" Kyle asked.

  My wife nodded numbly and let him inside.

  "What is he sorry about? What. Is. Happening?" Grace stomped her foot with each word.

  My palms were clammy, my pulse hammering in my throat and in my temples. I felt sick. Guilt gnawed at me from every angle. I stepped forward to pull her into a hug. To touch her. To tell her everything was going to be okay, and she'd move on from this moment. This was going to be temporary, but Luke grabbed the back of my shirt and hauled me back. "You made your decision and now you get to watch."

  "She's hurting!"

  "You should have thought about that."

  I thrashed against him to no avail. She needed to know. They needed to know it would get better. It had to.

  Grace's bloodcurdling scream filling the a
ir brought me back to the moment. To our living room the way I'd left it the night before. Our daughter sat collapsed in a heap on the floor, a hysterical mess. Snot bubbles escaped her nose as the wails of desperation echoed in the room. Her body shook violently as Maggie tried to comfort her as best as she could, her own face buried over the back crook of Grace's shoulder. Her own sobs silent. We both watched them shake and cling to each other. The sounds of their grief gutting me one decibel at a time.

  No one said anything. I couldn't do anything. I was on my knees, unable to touch either of them. My own worst hell. My skin on fire from all the ways I tried to get to them. It was almost as if a glass barrier existed between us. "Is this your doing? The reason I can't get to them?" I hatefully slung my words at Luke.

  "No, actually that would be your doing. However, the reason you feel the fire. Why, yes, that would be me."

  I snarled at him, unable to control the sound. Finally, my body sagged from fighting so hard to get to them. I'm not sure how much time passed. Grace had cried herself to sleep.

  Kyle scooped her off the floor. "Which room is hers?"

  Maggie led him down the hall to the place I'd never tuck my daughter in again. My wife carefully pushed all the dark hair off Grace's face and pulled the sheet to her chin. "I love you, sweet girl," she whispered. She turned to Kyle. "Thank you for carrying her. I don't know how I'm going to do this."

  "We're all here for you. Kylie will be there for her with open arms, too, so while I may not be able to understand the magnitude of what his death is going to bring, I do get the preteen everything. So if you need anything, please don't hesitate to call, okay?" He laid a hand on her shoulder.

  She nodded with a hiccup and another ragged sob. Maggie and Kyle headed back toward the living room.

  I lingered in the doorway, watching Grace sleep. I could feel Luke behind me. Judging me. "Don't say I don't belong here. Or that I don't have the right to watch her sleep."

  "I didn't say a word."

  "But I can feel it coming off you in waves. Your judginess."

  Luke forced his way next to me. His shoulder a few inches above mine. No space between us. "Sounds like that's your conscience getting the best of you."

  "I hate you."

  He turned his watchful gaze on me. "Are you sure you don't hate yourself?"

  By the time we got back to the living room, Maggie and Kyle were already reseated on the couch, deep in conversation again. "Jason always told me it would be you. You were the one he had written down to give notification if anything ever happened. So I knew the second I saw you in uniform."

  It was true. Our families were close and there wasn't anyone else I wanted to deliver the news but him. Not my best friend, Frank, I wanted it to be Kyle. For some reason I felt like it would be better coming from him than from Frank.

  "How did it happen? What happened? Wait, I don't know that I want to know. Do I want to know? Is it what I think it is?" She dropped her head into her hands and sucked in a ragged breath. "Tell me."

  Kyle sighed. His blue eyes were filled with unshed tears of his own. "There's an ongoing investigation right now, but from preliminary reports, it looks like suicide. We'll know more once the coroner is finished."

  "Dammit. God dammit," she whisper-hissed. "I thought…" She looked to the ceiling, tears free flowing, racing themselves down her face as she wrapped her arms around her waist. "I thought he was doing better. I told you about the progress and the setbacks. I thought I was doing everything right when I saw the warning signs. How could he do this? How could he do this to Grace? Oh God. How am I going to tell his poor mother?"

  Sharp, stabbing pains echoed in my chest. Was it possible to die again? Could you die from guilt? It hurt. Everything hurt. "I'm sorry, Mags. I never did this to hurt any of you."

  Kyle reached over and patted my wife on the knee. "You did the best you could, Maggie. The only thing you need to focus on right now is you and Grace. The rest of it we can figure out along the way."

  It was obvious not only to me but also to Maggie that Kyle was uncomfortable in this situation. If I'd died like some kind of hero while in the line of duty, everything would be different. But because I'd chosen this path, it was like everyone was walking on eggshells. No one knew how to talk about suicide.

  Maggie wiped her face on the back of her sleeve. "So what does this mean going forward? What do you need from me to finish your investigation? I know the spouse is always the first person you need to interview. Do you need me to come down today, or can I process this for a day or two before you need me?"

  "We'll give you some time. If you want to talk in a day or two, that's fine. Get the interview done, and then you can see him after the coroner is finished."

  I didn't want the investigation to be drawn out. It was supposed to be cut and dried. There was supposed to be no debate about what happened so my family wasn't dragged through the mud. I didn't want this and now that's exactly what was happening. My best-laid plans had failed.

  "There's one more thing." Kyle hesitated as if not sure he wanted to tell her the rest. He gave Maggie a knowing look.

  Her eyes were now bloodshot and puffy. "What is it? It can't be anything worse than what you told me already."

  "He left a note."

  The air left the room. Static crackled across the warm tones of creams with yellow-and-blue accents.

  "He left a fucking note?" Her tone held a bitter edge.

  "Yeah. He made sure you would be able to read it. As soon as the investigation is closed, they'll give it to you."

  I wasn't sure what I was expecting when I thought of her reading the note I'd carefully drafted time and time again. I watched the flush creep up her neck to her face. She. Was. Pissed. "You can tell them to keep the note, Kyle, I don't want it. Nothing he can say will change what he did." She launched herself off the couch and straight to the wine cupboard in the kitchen.

  "I cannot believe him," Maggie muttered to herself as she poured a large glass of red, then proceeded to chug half of it.

  I was right on her heels, wishing she could hear my explanation. "I didn't write a note to upset you, Mags. Sometimes the truth hurts. In time, you'll see you are better off. You both are."

  Her glare whipped in my direction. My heart hammered in my chest at the idea she could hear me. See me even.

  "Don't worry. She has no idea you're here," Luke said.

  "I wasn't thinking that!" I snapped.

  "Sure you weren't," Luke said in a bored tone, leaving the room.

  "Is there anyone I can call for you?" Kyle asked in a soothing tone. "I don't want you to deal with this alone or at the bottom of a bottle."

  "You mean the way most of you deal with what you see on a regular basis?" she barked. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. You are not who I'm angry with, and I should not be taking my frustrations out on you. Please forgive me." Maggie held her hand up to her chest.

  Kyle flashed a sympathetic smile. "If anyone has the right to not have control of their feelings right now, that would be you. We're good, Maggie."

  She leaned against the fridge, cradling her almost empty glass to her chest. "I just can't believe this. I knew he was struggling with the PTSD. I knew he was having a hard time, but I didn't think his anxiety—or sheer hopelessness—was to that point. I feel…I don't know how I feel right now."

  "I don't think you have to figure all of that out either. You've just been dealt the biggest blow of your life. Give yourself some time to process."

  She blew out a heavy sigh. "Let me know when I have to come to the department for my interview, and where he is, and whatever else I have to do next, if you could, please. I'd really like to just go crawl in bed for the rest of the day now, but I can't. I have phone calls to make before people find out in other ways."

  Kyle dipped his chin in a nod. "I understand. Let me know if you need anything. If Grace wants to come spend some time with Kylie, let us know. Were right around the corner."

  "T
hank you."

  "You had good people around you," Luke said with no question in his tone.

  "Well, where were they when I needed them?"

  Luke scoffed. "Probably right in front of you with their hand stretched out, and you were too blind to see it."

  I threw my hands in the air and let them fall with a slap against my thighs. "What is that supposed to mean?"

  He made a sweeping gesture to my house and everything around us. "Sometimes we can't see what's right in front of us."

  Before I could respond, we were gone.

  5

  Bryon Gates and I had an unusual relationship. Our conversations and jokes only had to do with death because it was the only time we ever saw each other. Some were highly inappropriate and morbid in ways that helped us deal with everything we saw, but it worked for us. In a way, it was comforting he was the one to have me on his table doing my autopsy.

  "Well, Jason, in all our years together, I never thought we'd meet under circumstances like these. I know your job came with a lot of risks, and I've had to tend to some of your colleagues for other reasons, but I can honestly say this one hurts."

  He glanced up and spoke to me as if he could see me. The smell of formaldehyde, bleach, and the distinct smell of death and chemicals permeated the air, burning the nose hairs out of my nostrils forever.

  On the table, I noted the only part of my body currently covered by a small towel was my junk.

  Gates mumbled medical jargon into a tape recorder as he held a ruler to my head, measuring the entry and exit wounds.

  I blanched and looked away when he cut into my skull and examined trajectory and what damage the bullet did.

  Luke on the other hand was leaning over with his hands folded behind his back, completely engrossed.

  I wouldn't have put it past Luke to poke the soft tissue of my brain or ask Gates questions had there been an ability for them to be answered.

  "Searing mark is evident on the right temple and matches the barrel of the nine-millimeter handgun found at the scene. These along with a positive gunshot residue test so far are confirming no foul play and this was a self-inflicted gunshot wound. A physiological autopsy needs to be performed, as well," Gates continued into his recorder before checking off something on his clipboard.