The Death of Jacob Track (Book One of the 33X Series)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

November 9, 2014

Around 11pm on November 9th, Larry was sitting in a black car he owned, on an empty street that was not his own. The lights were off and he was dressed entirely in black, including a ski mask. He was waiting patiently, but angry, for the medical examiner, Tyler Hampton and his wife Marie, to go to sleep.

After the funeral, he stopped by his office to grab something. While he was there, he overhead a police officer mention to a RN that Patty had ordered an autopsy. If it came back Nick didn't die from his injuries, she was going to try and drop the charges on Trevor and Bobby.

"If you ask me, she's damn lost her mind. Those boys killed her husband and a damn good cop. Stupid!" The cop said.

"Oh my! She must be completely blinded by grief or something! Shit, most people get angry, not want to let the killers go!" the RN replied, clearly angry.

"Reynolds mention an autopsy. Apparently she thinks it's all fishy! Ha! Autopsy, that's ridiculous! Those boys beat the shit out of him and he died. Makes perfect sense! Nothing fishy about it! Only fishy thing would be letting those boys go! It don't even seem legal, does it? I swear if I can find a way....I will see those boys rot in prison!" The cop spat.

"Yeah I surely hope you find a way!"

Larry's face grew hot with rage, his cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. All of his work was for nothing? He wanted to choke as many people as possible! He tried to calm himself to still hear the conversation.

Larry stood up from his desk so fast, the chair fell to the ground with a loud boom. An autopsy? How on earth would she ask for an autopsy and not tell him? He was her damned doctor! The autopsy would ruin everything! It would show Nick didn't die from his injuries, but poisoned from potassium chloride. Oh, he had been stupid! His one mistake could ruin everything! He had never expected her to ask for an autopsy!

Larry grabbed the files from his desk and rushed from his office. He barely noticed anyone in the hallways trying to say hello. He was too busy, too angry to see anything but his white hot rage. If he couldn't stop the report, he was doomed. He would be arrested and in prison forever. Murder One always had a long sentence, a life sentence, usually. He had to find a way to stop that report. Shit! His life and his work depended on it. He was too close to be stopped. Too damned close!

He rushed home, speeding the whole 20 blocks back to his house, surprised he didn't get a ticket. His plans of working on side projects were put aside. He paced furiously through his study. There were only two options: Find the file and destroy it...or kill the medical examiner and ruin the file. And he was running out of time. It had already been four days that Nick was dead. There was a good chance the file had already been sent off to Kansas City to be read. Larry's hope was fading fast. But he couldn't let this go, either. He had to do something and fast.

He ran through his house, looking for items to help his situation. He grabbed a gun and a silencer from his bedroom upstairs. Then he ran to the garage, grabbing some empty gas tanks. If everything worked correctly, it'd never come back on him. The gun he had bought on the black market in Kansas City a year ago, never used, no serial numbers. Good.

He worried about a fire, as it looked suspicious, but hopefully it would burn hot enough to destroy all evidence. If he was a praying man, he would've prayed. But Larry believed more in himself and the power of science than God. Larry saw himself as a god, he didn't need outside help.

He grabbed his black clothes and a ski mask, and waited for the sky to turn dark. None of the autopsies were done in Larned, but in a town nearby, Hays, which was about 60 miles away. He took all the items to his black Jaguar, put them in the trunk and set off. He would grab some supper from a fast food restaurant and wait.