Knife Edge (A Dead Cold Mystery Book 27) by Blake Banner (best motivational books to read .txt) 📕

She nodded. “The other thing…” She hesitated a moment, gathering her thoughts. “You’re an eminent psychiatrist, your wife is a doctor of sociology. I believe that sociology requires at least a basic understanding of psychology, and having lived with you for…how long?”

“Twenty-five years.”

“Having lived with you for twenty-five years, as a highly intelligent woman, she must know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Marcus needs to face what happened and deal with it.”

He was nodding. “And your question is, why is she so deeply opposed to it?”

“Yes. If she was hysterical, or stupid, even uneducated, I could understand it. But she is a university professor who must have a good understanding of psychology…” She shrugged. “It makes no sense to me at all.”

He gave a small snort of a laugh. “If you’re thinking that she is trying to conceal evidence, you’re wrong, plain and simple. It’s nothing that exotic. Parents—not just women, men will do it as well—can get intense, hormonal reactions when their children are in danger. Hormonal imbalances can turn intelligent people into raging morons, idiots and savages…”

“Killers?”

He looked her in the eye. “Oh, for sure. It sounds absurd, but a surge in certain hormones can bring out the very darkest in the human soul.”

I studied his face a moment, wondering if he was trying to tell us anything. I decided I wasn’t sure and said, “I have a final question for you, Dr. Mitchell. Where were you last night between eight and midnight?”

“Why, I was at home.”

“Can anyone vouch for that?”

He frowned. “You’re asking me for an alibi? Why do I need an alibi for last night?”

Dehan said, “Can you answer the question please, Dr. Mitchell?”

“I was at home with Emma.”

I sighed. “Can anyone besides your wife vouch for that?”

“No.” He thought about it for a moment. “No, we were alone. The nurse had gone. But why? Why are you asking me this?”

I studied his face carefully as I spoke. “Sonia Laplant, Lee’s aunt, was murdered last night.”

His face went tight, contracted, and he stared at me, then at Dehan and back at me again. “Sonia? Why? That’s insane! And you think that I…? Why on Earth would I want to kill poor Sonia, for God’s sake?”

Dehan shrugged. “For that matter, why would anyone want to kill Lee, or Lea? Logical explanations are something this case is pretty short on, Dr. Mitchell.”

He kept staring at her, like she’d said something outrageous. I asked him:

“Did you and Sonia stay in touch after you adopted Lee?”

He turned to me. “In touch? No. Why would we?”

“So you had no contact with her at all after Lee moved in?”

“No, I mean, minimal. We had sporadic contact, but nothing you could call staying in touch. When Lee pulled his attempted blackmail prank she spoke with Emma, but aside from that, no, nothing to speak of.”

Outside, the sound of a car pulling into the drive made us look. It was a silver Mercedes. Brad Mitchell got to his feet and spoke absently, staring out of the window.

“Emma…”

We heard feet running, the key in the lock and then the other Dr. Mitchell burst into the room. She stopped dead, with the door open, staring from me to Dehan, and then her husband. Her voice, when she spoke, was shrill with anger.

“What the hell is going on?”

Brad Mitchell picked up the piece of paper and held it out to her. “They have a court order, dear.”

She stared at it, like it was an insult. “A court order…?” She shifted her eyes to meet mine. “I’ll have your job. I’ll ruin you. I’ll destroy you. Have you…?” She turned to her husband. “Have they hurt him? Have they been in? Did you stop them?”

I stood. “Get a grip, Dr. Mitchell. I’m going to ignore the stupid things you’re saying because you’re upset. But I am going to need you to get a grip.”

Her face flushed red. “A grip? Are you trying to patronize me? Is this some macho sexist shit? The NYPD sending its big bully to intimidate a helpless woman?”

Dehan was on her feet. She came over beside me and looked down at Emma Mitchell.

“Why don’t you talk to me, Dr. Mitchell? Why don’t you threaten me with the loss of my career? You going to destroy me, too? You going to accuse me of being a big, macho bully?”

Emma Mitchell’s mouth worked but no sound came out.

“Quit griping and do something for your son, for a change. Yes, we were upstairs in his room. Yes, we talked to him, and yes, within just a few minutes he spoke to us. Six years you’ve had the poor kid stewing in his own damned nightmares, and today, for the first time, he was able to get some of that crap off his chest. You don’t want to hear it, but that’s tough shit, Doc, because you’re going to hear it. He hugged me and he smiled at Detective Stone, and then he spoke to us. And you know what that smile said to me? It said he was grateful. Because what you have been doing for the last six years is to keep that poor little bastard locked in hell, and Detective Stone just gave him the key to get out.”

They stared at each other in silence, then Emma Mitchell spoke in a dangerous whisper.

“Get out of my house, and don’t ever set foot in here again.”

I took the court order from Brad Mitchell’s fingers and handed it over to his wife.

“This is a court order requiring you to give us access to Marcus Mitchell, so that we can speak with him. If you defy this order, you will be in contempt of court and liable to a prison sentence.”

I paused to examine her expression. I figured she wasn’t listening to a damn word I was saying. She was just staring at me like she wanted to tear out my heart and eat