You Can't Run by Hope Davis (pdf e book reader .TXT) 📕

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Atlas’ voice interrupted her thoughts.

“That all of the minerals that the body needs are also apparently fatal in large enough doses?”

“Yeah, I’m thinking I should watch what I eat now.” He joked while scrolling down his screen slowly.

“As if you would ever get too many minerals from your diet. I think you’ll be fine.” She teased as she clicked on the next mineral. Copper could apparently also cause death, specifically heart failure. However, it claimed it had to be over a long period of time, which didn’t sound like their culprit. Unless of course he was injecting these women with an amount that had never been studied—

“Wait. Do you think he’s performing science experiments on these women?” The thought was disturbing.

Atlas shrugged. “I’m still going with just plain crazy, but you do have a point, there isn’t much existing science on these sorts of things it seems.“

Naya’s phone buzzed in her lap and she looked down to see a text from Kevin. The battery bar in the upper right corner blinked once to remind her it was dangerously low at three percent. Kevin would just have to wait until she got off work.

“Well, I don’t think this mineral research is getting us anywhere.” Atlas leaned back in his chair. “The cop in me wants to go canvas but I don’t even know where we would start a canvas. At least not without the information from RunTracker.”

“And that won’t be until Monday.” Naya pinched the bridge of her nose.

“So, we’ve got one day to solve this crime?”

“Basically.”

CHAPTER 22

MARK

He really hadn’t wanted it to come to this. But here he was. Someone not a part of his plan had to die.

Mark was in the kitchen at the detective’s house preparing lunch for Vance. He had suggested they order Thai food, and now he pulled the bottle from his pocket and plopped an entire dropper full of liquid into the bowl of Pad Thai before sliding it back in his pocket and stirring the food.

He walked back into the living room where Vance was right where he had been when he left him, playing video games. He handed Vance his food when he paused the game.

“Damn.” The other man in the room exclaimed. “Of course, it’s lunch time right when I’m about to win.

“Story of life.” Mark shrugged and dug into his curry with gusto. “There’s plenty more in the kitchen if you want some.”

“Thanks man.”

After a few minutes later Mark looked up from his food to see Vance staring at him. “Everything okay?” He asked politely.

Vance shrugged. “I just got a weird feeling is all.”

“Like you’re not feeling well?”

Mark took a quick glance at Vance’s bowl to see he had hardly eaten.

Grr. This was going to be more difficult than he had thought. He would have to find a different way to do things.

Vance’s eyes followed his own, “No, I feel okay. Just something feels really wrong, like in the mood.” He was looking pointedly at Mark again, and he felt himself lean back a fraction of an inch.

“Maybe you should call your sister?” He suggested, trying to think of what a normal person who wasn’t trying to poison someone would say in this situation. He began to second guess himself. Had he been sneaky enough? Or had he spent too long in the kitchen?

The doorbell rang before Vance could speak again and Mark got up to answer it.

It was Vance’s parents.

He opened the door wide to let the two of them in, watching as they removed their shoes, placing them on the mat by the door and then headed into the living room. He stood by the door a moment longer to make sure they would already be in a conversation with Vance when he returned.

When he walked back in, he was glad to see that the four people in the room all seemed to be chatting animatedly. Phew, that was a close one.

“Anyone else want Thai food? There’s plenty in the kitchen.” Mark offered.

“Nah, we just ate.” Vance’s dad chimed in as he turned back to whatever conversation they were having. Well, it seemed like he wouldn’t be missed for the moment.

Mark walked into the kitchen and messed with the takeout boxes a bit making it sound like he was cleaning up. He thought about actually taking the time to clean up, but he didn’t want to be that nice to the detective. He flipped the lid open on the trash can, noting it was a new bag, and a plan formulated in his mind.

He quickly undid the trash bag, shook it out, then placed the bag back in as if he had just emptied the trash. Then he paused to see if there was any movement from the other room. He heard the four muffled voices, still absorbed in conversation. They wouldn’t miss him one bit.

He walked towards the door, but instead of going out of it, he turned left and headed up the stairs to detective Largusa’s room. The walk up was silent until he reached the top step which let out a creak as he put his weight on it. He paused for a second to see if he had been noticed, but no one called up after him.

He gingerly moved his second leg over the spot that had creaked, checking to see if there were any more spots he needed to be aware of, but it seemed like the rest of the floor was silent. He remained cautious as he crossed the room towards the wardrobe and began peeking in rummaging through her belongings.

There was nothing of interest, just clothes. Besides, he didn’t even really know what he was looking for. It just seemed exciting to