About your Book:
When normal people suddenly attack and murder, their defense attorney hires Dr. Michael Rose, a former cop turned forensic psychiatrist and his associate, Karen Scott to represent them in court. The inexplicable events mystify these experienced professionals, and together they seek a rational explanation.
When psychiatric evaluation reveals a pattern among the subjects, Michael suspects that there is more to these incidents than spontaneous psychosis. Using his instincts and skills as a former police detective, Michael and Karen begin their own investigation.
What they uncover is chilling.
Who is behind it?
Why is it happening, and most importantly can they do something before the killer strikes again?
During the dramatic denouement, Michael must wrestle with his conscience and the true meaning of justice.
Targeted Age Group: Adults, mature teenagers
Genre: psychological thriller
The Book Excerpt:
The Emeryville patrol car was on the evening shift near Jack London Square. The wipers slapped back and forth against the drizzle.
“Riding with you, sweet thing, is like traveling with a ghost,” said Geraldine Sims, a twenty-two year veteran.
Michael Rose, her young partner for the last three years was sitting in the passenger seat holding a pad in his lap writing. “Just a few more notes for my journal.”
“Can I stick my nose into a place where it doesn’t belong?”
Michael smiled. “Don’t you always?”
“You have so much going for you, Michael. Think about it, you’re a writer, and you got into medical school. You should say goodbye to law enforcement.”
Michael looked up. “I like what I do, Gerry.”
Gerry reached over and gave Michael a playful shove. “You’re a good cop, but you can do better, and you should.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“I’ve never had a better partner,” she smiled. “You’ve saved my ass more than once. I’ll miss you when you go.”
“If you weren’t gay, I’d swear that you were trying to get into my pants.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,” she said with a seductive smile. “You made me question my own sexuality. Maybe I’m not as gay as I thought.”
It was a routine call, a 10-33, a silent alarm in a warehouse at the junction of Harland and Park. They approached, lights off, and parked in front of the dark building. When they reached the front door, it was ajar.
“I’ll go in,” Gerry said. “You go around to the rear entrance.”
“Give me a break, Gerry. I’d never live it down if the guys find out.”
“Michael, I don’t know when you and your feeble-minded friends will come into the twenty-first century.” She stared at Michael and shook her head. “Far be it for me to overstress your frail ego. I’ll take the rear.”
Michael pushed the send button on his radio. “Officers Rose and Sims on the scene. Investigating.”
Michael entered the pitch-black room following the tight circle of his Maglite. He walked past the reception area and into the warehouse. The room smelled of electronic components, printer’s ink, and diesel. In the center of the cavernous room, he found several open crates, and when he shined the light in, the box contained computer chips.
With the sound of movement in the rear, he whispered into his mouth piece, “Someone’s near the back, Gerry. Watch out.”
Gerry keyed her transmitter to acknowledge his warning.
Michael moved toward the back. With footsteps ahead, he yelled, “Police. Freeze.”
When the shadow moved to the left, Michael turned his light in that direction and again said, “Police. Stop. We have you surrounded. Don’t make this any harder than necessary.”
A muzzle flashed, and the room exploded with the boom of a high-powered weapon. The intruder scrambled further to the rear.
“Code 3, emergency,” Michael shouted into his mike, “Shots fired.”
“Stop, Police,” Gerry’s voice resounded, followed by more movements, then a second blast.
The sound was deafening, but Michael managed to follow the intruder near the rear door where running footsteps echoed away down the alley.
“Gerry…Gerry, are you okay?”
“Gerry, where are you?” Michael said, moving further toward the rear, his pulse racing.
The back door was open, and when Michael moved toward it, he tripped over something and tumbled to the ground.
Gerry groaned as Michael fell over her legs.
He quickly recovered his Maglite and pointed it at his partner.
Gerry was sitting with her back against the wall. Her hands clutched her abdomen. Blood oozed between her fingers.
“Officer down…officer down,” Michael screamed into his microphone as he lowered his partner to the floor and raised her legs on his folded leather jacket.
“It’s bad,” she whispered. “It’s bad. He was on me before I had a chance. He went that way.” She pointed with a blood-covered hand.
“The ambulance will be here soon. Hold on. You’ll make it.”
Michael placed both hands on her abdomen pushing hard to stem the warm sticky blood flowing from the wound. When he released pressure for a moment to switch hands, bright-red blood gushed to the ground.
Gerry reached for Michael’s arm and squeezed it. “I’m so afraid…please, Michael, stay with me…I’m scared.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Just hang on.”
The siren wailed in the distance.
“They’ll be here soon. Hang on.”
As he redoubled the pressure on her abdomen, Gerry groaned. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Tell Amy that I truly love her. Tell her I’ll be okay…tell her…”
Gerry’s mouth opened. Her back arched, and then her chest collapsed as she released her final breath.
Michael placed his mouth on his partner, gave three quick breaths, and then placed his interwoven hands on her chest. He compressed her sternum several times, and watched as blood flooded from her wound. He continued for what seemed an eternity, but with this much bleeding, he knew his efforts were futile. He lifted his hands and leaned back in defeat.
“No…No,” Michael shouted as he bent forward and hugged his partner for the last time.
Two hours later, Michael returned to the station to complete a stack of forms. Officer after officer expressed their sympathy.
Michael recalled the lectures by police psychiatrists at the academy. How death on the job haunted them all. How the killing of a cop’s partner was a sentinel event and the risks to survivors of guilt, depression, alcoholism or drug dependency, and, too often, divorce.
In the locker room while changing his blood-soaked uniform, Gino, the loudmouth’s voice resounded from the other side of the locker. “I told ya that having women on patrol would get them, or us killed. Now, you see what happens.”
Michael forgot what came next as he found his hands around Gino’s throat. He would have killed him if four cops hadn’t pulled him off.
His squad captain offered, and then demanded that Michael see the police psychiatrist. Michael saw him twice a week for a month. It was helpful, he admitted, and he came to understand that he’d have to live with Gerry’s death. What hadn’t changed…would never change, was that Gerry was gone, he was still alive, and somehow, it was his fault