Earthbound : A gripping crime thriller full of twists and supernatural suspense by Fynn Perry (popular romance novels TXT) 📗

door and then Devereux sauntered in. They exchanged strained pleasantries. Devereux put his hands up in mock surrender, giving that smile of his which gushed insincerity. “I can’t talk about the Hardwell case, but I have a few questions about a closed case that you worked on a while back,” he said.

“What case?” David replied hurriedly. “I’m busy.”

“Juan Santiago.”

David looked up in surprise. He had never so much as mentioned that name to anyone in New York. Only a few people knew he was that David Miller, a former Miami-Dade District Attorney who, among many others, had put away Santiago, the most violent drug distributor in Miami, to serve long sentences. When he could no longer cope with the countless death threats to his family, David had called in some favors from a few trusted individuals in positions of influence. Together, they had secretly organized his placement in the New York clinic and move to the city to escape the reaches of Santiago’s network of criminal associates, which the drug kingpin continued to control from prison.

He had thought about changing his surname to something really popular like Smith or Johnson. But there were literally thousands of David and Jennifer Millers in New York State, not to mention throughout the States––he had checked online. Besides, such a change would undoubtedly leave some kind of administrative mark that could be later discovered. So, he had settled on a change of appearance: his clothes were nothing like those from his former life, and his full beard was a new addition to his look. Only one trusted member of the Miami judiciary knew David’s true identity and whereabouts and why his life had changed so dramatically. Or so he’d thought.

“I think you must have been under great pressure to convict him. You guys controlled the evidence. It would be easy to mess around with it, you know, make your own evidence to help the case, wouldn’t it, Prosecutor?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I think you have me confused with someone else,” David lied. He was confused by Devereux’s accusatory attitude and by his apparent defense of a remorseless killer. “Didn’t he sanction and participate in hundreds of murders?” David said, trying to tease out how much Devereux knew.

Devereux’s smile dropped off his face as though it had had a hard time belonging there. The intensity of his stare and prominent, beaklike nose reminded David of a hawk sizing up its prey. “Murders? The only person murdered was Juan Santiago, Prosecutor!” he raged as he slammed down a printout of an article from the Miami Herald’s website dated five months ago. It was the story of Santiago’s murder in prison by a group of inmates loyal to a rival drug gang. A small headshot of David with shorter hair, crisp shirt and tie, and minus the beard, was inset in a small circle next to the main picture of Juan Santiago. The bright orange of Santiago’s prison jumpsuit contrasted with his dark skin, rampant hair, long beard, and insane, almost black eyes.

David’s mouth dropped open. Before he could deny that the man in the poor-resolution photo was him, Devereux hissed, “Do you think that your problems are over with his death, Prosecutor?”

David had hoped that the death of the drug mobster would have marked the start of his return to public office and the well-paid life of a district attorney or at least a partner position in a private legal practice. However, he had decided to lie low in New York in his current employment a while longer, just in case there were still some members of Santiago’s gang, who even after a change in leadership, would somehow still be willing to re-start Santiago’s death threats against him. None had come to light, thank God. In his new work it had felt good helping people who had nowhere else to go. Now it seemed Santiago’s death and his unintended part in it, far from closing a chapter in his life he’d rather forget, had finally caught up with him. But via Devereux and with such anger? It was almost as if he was taking the death personally. It made no sense.

Devereux’s gaze landed on an antique letter opener with an ornate handle and substantial blade. He picked it up by the tip of the handle, using the thumb and index finger of his right hand. “They don’t make them like this anymore. You can tell, just by the weight, that it’s built to last.” His tone was measured, bordering on threatening. A beat passed as he stood admiring the engraved scales of justice on the handle.

“Justice!” he scoffed, and with his free hand suddenly grasped the wrist of David’s right hand with remarkable strength, pinning it flat to the desk like a starfish. Before David could struggle free, Devereux had wrapped his remaining fingers around the handle, forming a fist with the blade protruding below. David watched the blade come down onto his hand. It pierced the flesh between the metacarpal bones and the tip embedded itself into the surface of the table below. He shrieked with pain.

“Too late for justice! Now there is only revenge!” There was a manic glint in Devereux’s eye as he released the handle from his grip. “This is nothing compared to what is coming to you, Miller!” Devereux shouted before storming out of David’s room.

Seconds later, the receptionist burst in with a panicked expression. “David, something has...” She gasped at the sight of the blood, and the blade impaled in his hand but didn’t say a word. Instead, she rushed out, returning with the office first aid kit, which looked as if she had literally pulled it from the wall.

“Oh, my God! Who . . . who did this?” she asked while she nervously fiddled with the clasp on the box. “Robert? . . .Tell me, David . . . was it Robert?” She got it open eventually after a few calming words from David,