Controlled Chaos (Deadly Dreams Book 1) Read Free Page A

will.”
    “That’s the difference between you and me, Hunter. You give the average Joe a chance. Hell, you give pond scum a chance. Me? I don’t trust anybody.”
    “You don’t trust me?” I asked.
    Then Steve gave me a look and said, “I don’t even trust myself.”
    “That’s comforting to know: my best friend since freshman year in college doesn’t trust me.”
    “Look, I trust you, Hunter. I trust you to show up when you say you’re going to show up. I trust that when you tell me something about your day, it’s the truth. You see, our world... the one you and I live in as friends…isn’t part of that world out there. The one filled with drugs, crime, and homicide. You see, Hunter, when I step into that world, I don’t trust anyone. I just do my job and hope the information I’m getting is correct.”
    “What about Munson?”
    “Munson is a great guy. But at the end of the day, do I completely trust him? No. You see, he will always have the Shield’s best interest, regardless if he steps outside the lines and gives me information that can help me on a complicated case or not.”
    Munson was Steve’s immediate contact on the force. They were constantly doing each other favors. Whenever Steve needed police help, he called Munson. And whenever Munson needed to step out of protocol, if he needed something done that wasn’t necessarily by the book, he had Steve do it. I had met him a few times and he seemed like a genuine cop that cared for people and who wanted to see justice done at all costs.
    “Didn’t realize you were such a glass-half-empty guy,” I said to Steve.
    “You know exactly what I’m about. Have I ever been the optimistic type?” Steve looked at me as if to say, ‘Come on, we’re talking about me here.’
    “Well, anyway,” I said. “Dave, the Crenshaw character, overdosed and was in a coma. Today, I made a decision that ended his life.”
    Steve was quiet. This was about as deep and heavy as our relationship would go. “That doesn’t seem fair to you. You’re only a fucking crisis counselor.”
    “Only a fucking crisis counselor?” I said, offended. I never felt Steve truly respected what I did for a living. Steve thought it was all about holding hands and singing Kumbaya all night.
    “You know what I mean. Listen, Hunter. You know I’m on your side. I know you’re excellent at what you do.”
    “Excellent? Really? I’ve had three outpatients die on me just this year. I think I’m pretty lousy at what I do.”
    “Don’t be hard on yourself. Most of the time, you’re making beds in a burning house.”
    “I know. I’m tired of it.” I paused. “This guy was different, though. I saw him making progress. He was clean for six weeks. It just makes zero sense to me that he would overdose in his apartment. He was starting to have a normal life. I had gotten him a job at the sewage company, and he was making substantial progress. We had him on the right medication, and I truly felt we had it under control.”
    “Are you suspecting foul play?”
    “Even the police suspect foul play, but they’re just writing it off as a drug deal gone bad. They don’t feel the beating and the overdose are conclusive. They think he got into a fight and went home and felt bad. Then he overdosed.”
    “You know, that’s probably what happened.”
    “You ever have a gut feeling about something?” I asked, staring Steve in the eye.
    “All the time. It’s kinda what I do.” Steve laughed.
    “I know there is more here. He was different. I could see it in his eyes. He was making amazing changes. He was clean and was thinking clearly.”
    “I can look into it if you want.” Steve looked at me and nodded with confidence. I knew he meant what he said.
    The waitress came over to the table and set down my beer and walked away in one continuous motion. She made zero contact with me. Now I was taking this personally. “Did you see that?” I said to Steve.
    “Are you sure you haven’t