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Immortal Bones - A Supernatural Thriller - Detective Saussure Mysteries - Book 1 Page 5
Immortal Bones - A Supernatural Thriller - Detective Saussure Mysteries - Book 1 Read online
Page 5
AS I DRANK MY COFFEE THE NEXT MORNING, I went over the box of medical records I would take to the doctor. All the diseases and every single suicide attempt were documented there, even the ones that didn’t require a physician: the cuts that had healed themselves. The times Lord Hurlingthon had tried to drown were pretty impressive as well, especially the one that took place in winter: his body temperature had dropped to 59ºF. He should have died of hypothermia.
He should be dead already. The idea was steadily taking shape and gaining weight in front of my eyes.
Greta’s records were also there, but it wasn’t too special. And Emily’s. Emily and her unlived life were a relatively thin stock of sheets. Especially if I compared it to that of her father’s: his records had been crammed inside a tattered double flap folder. The footprint of someone’s life should last longer than that. It should weigh more. It should be more...just more.
I placed all the death back in the box and drove over to Dr. Pierce’s office, located in the upper side of town. My patched up car stood out in those neighborhoods. I liked that. People living there looked down on me and I looked up to them, with the advantage of being so close to the ground I could make them trip on any piece of garbage I had scratched from the soles of their shoes.
The place was closed. Maybe I had it wrong? Maybe it was at 9 p.m.? Odd, as with everything else related to this case. Now what?
“Hello,” a voice sounded behind me, as I pressed my nose against the glass trying to look inside. “Sorry to make you wait.”
“Dr. Pierce?” I turned and extended my hand, while staring at him in awe. I was expecting an old man, someone capable of buying into this delusion. But he was a middle-age man, not over fifty. Short trimmed brown hair, pale blue eyes and a perfectly tailored deep brown suit made him look reliable. And it made me wonder if I was the only one in this town who dressed like a homeless person.
“Mr. Saussure.” His firm handshake left me even more perplexed. “Please, come inside. Have you been waiting for long?”
“No, I just got here.”
I walked into a waiting room decorated in sienna and dark-brown, all very polished and professional-looking. There were several armchairs and a sofa, along with a coffee table. A big oak desk at the back dominated the room and prevented any unexpected visitor from trespassing the door that led to the doctor’s area.
“Please, all the way to the back.” Dr. Pierce extended his arm towards a room at the end of a narrow hallway.
He should be dead already. The idea was steadily taking shape and gaining weight in front of my eyes.
Greta’s records were also there, but it wasn’t too special. And Emily’s. Emily and her unlived life were a relatively thin stock of sheets. Especially if I compared it to that of her father’s: his records had been crammed inside a tattered double flap folder. The footprint of someone’s life should last longer than that. It should weigh more. It should be more...just more.
I placed all the death back in the box and drove over to Dr. Pierce’s office, located in the upper side of town. My patched up car stood out in those neighborhoods. I liked that. People living there looked down on me and I looked up to them, with the advantage of being so close to the ground I could make them trip on any piece of garbage I had scratched from the soles of their shoes.
The place was closed. Maybe I had it wrong? Maybe it was at 9 p.m.? Odd, as with everything else related to this case. Now what?
“Hello,” a voice sounded behind me, as I pressed my nose against the glass trying to look inside. “Sorry to make you wait.”
“Dr. Pierce?” I turned and extended my hand, while staring at him in awe. I was expecting an old man, someone capable of buying into this delusion. But he was a middle-age man, not over fifty. Short trimmed brown hair, pale blue eyes and a perfectly tailored deep brown suit made him look reliable. And it made me wonder if I was the only one in this town who dressed like a homeless person.
“Mr. Saussure.” His firm handshake left me even more perplexed. “Please, come inside. Have you been waiting for long?”
“No, I just got here.”
I walked into a waiting room decorated in sienna and dark-brown, all very polished and professional-looking. There were several armchairs and a sofa, along with a coffee table. A big oak desk at the back dominated the room and prevented any unexpected visitor from trespassing the door that led to the doctor’s area.
“Please, all the way to the back.” Dr. Pierce extended his arm towards a room at the end of a narrow hallway.
The Haunting of Appleton Hill