Murder in the Magic City: A Micah Brantley Story by G.P. Sorrells (top 10 books to read .TXT) 📕

of it, Osteen could sense that something was off. He had missed a clue. A tell. Something to force his mind to not take everything at face value. But he had ignored it. Perhaps Vivian was right.

It often felt like his cases, at least lately, were considerably more convoluted than they needed to be. It hadn’t always been that way. There was a time when Osteen would roll up to a crime scene, figure the motive out quicker than the beat cops could put up caution tape, and move on to arresting the perp. Those days were long gone. In their place stood a man whose age continually seemed to get the better of him. An increasing sense of paranoia crept forward, further causing him to question reality. Could he ever truly be sure of an answer anymore?

This time felt different. There was no delusion. The sixth sense that had made him a natural as a detective had alerted him to something outside the ordinary while he was in the Medical Examiner’s office. But what? He touched the screen on his car and prompted his phone to call Vivian. She picked up after two rings.

“He… hello?”

“Hey, Viv. Feeling any better?”

“Sort of. Just trying to sleep it off and hope for the best.”

“That’s not a bad idea. Take some meds too, while you’re at it.”

“Look, Dan, I appreciate the concern. I really do, but why are you really calling?”

Osteen looked out the window, toward the Atlantic, and wondered if he should really tell Vivian what was on his mind. After all, she was the one who had decried him for trying to find issues that may not be there. But surely, she’d see how weird it all seemed. Even if she didn’t, there wasn’t much he kept from his partners. “I just left the M.E.’s office.”

“How’d that go?”

He could hear a bit of contempt in her voice. That, or she was on the verge of another trip to the bathroom. He wasn’t certain, but he pressed on. “Odd, to say the least. I’m not sure why the hell Orson called me down there. Nothing he told me was outside of the findings in his report.”

“So, he just made you travel across half the city in the middle of the day for a pow wow?”

“Something like that. Look, I’d be lying if I said something didn’t feel off about the whole situation.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Vivian answered. She then had a brief coughing fit before collecting herself. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem. If he would’ve just left it at the file, I would’ve wondered, but ultimately figured there’s not much I could do. No way the department’s going to let me go after this thing on my own. Not unless I could prove its merit to them. But then I get there, and Orson says he preferred to tell me in person as more of a professional courtesy.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“He basically told me I’d be committing career suicide if I pressed this any further. But it just came across as genuine collegial concern.”

“Almost like he felt he was doing you a solid.”

“Exactly.”

“Maybe he was.”

“Well shit, if that’s the case, how am I supposed to just sit back like nothing happened?”

“Easy. Shut your brain off.”

“Easier said than done,” Osteen replied. He pulled into his spot at the department and shifted the car into park. The squad car idled as he relished in the cool manufactured air blowing through the tiny plastic vents.

“Look, Dan, you are mere months away from retiring with your full pension. A well-deserved thank you for a few decades of service to the Magic City. Don’t throw that all away for some two-bit hack of a news anchor.”

“That just feels so damn wrong.”

“Even if it’s all bullshit. Maybe the warning was just there to push you off course in the search for the perp. Who knows? At the end of the day, it’s up to you to decide the situation’s worth. You can put it all on the line for this man who wouldn’t have given a shit about you when he was above ground, lose everything, and it won’t change the fact that he’s gone. Dead. Solving this doesn’t bring him back, but it could ruin you.”

“Thanks, Viv,” Osteen replied. In some ways, he reflected, the conversation could only have ever gone this way. He knew she wouldn’t be on board with pushing ahead, not with what would end up at stake. “I’m going to think about what you said, I promise. Just make sure you get some rest.”

“Will do, dad,” Vivian answered in jest.

Chapter 29

Micah walked into a pub a few blocks away from La Cantina Sucia. Tucked away behind some side streets and cookie cutter housing developments, it was exactly the hole-in-the-wall place he had hoped to escape to. At least for a bit. Taking lives wasn’t the sort of activity to make him question his morals. He had long gotten over the terrible feeling that used to inhabit his thoughts when taking a life with his own hands. He never relished in the opportunity to play executioner. It was simply a means to an end.

Though, if he were honest with himself, Micah would admit that there was something about the act which pulled him toward it. A calling, almost. As though the simple act of pulling a trigger would somehow bring him one step closer to a realization, one he hadn’t known he was searching for. Of course, he often reasoned, he could also be on the verge of a mental breakdown. The dreams of another life, through eyes he wasn’t sure were his own, kept propping up more frequently.

How can I have a memory of someone else’s life? The question popped up with more frequency, but he was no closer to an answer now than when the first dream manifested itself.

The pub was nearly empty, just a handful of people milling about on the periphery and a very drunk man failing miserably