John Locke - Lethal Experiment

LETHAL EXPERIMENT

(a Donovan Creed Crime Novel)

by

John Locke

BOOKS BY JOHN LOCKE

Donovan Creed Series:

Saving Rachel

Lethal People

Lethal Experiment

Now & Then

Wish List

A Girl Like You

Vegas Moon (May 2011)

Other:

Follow the Stone (An Irreverent Western Adventure)

Every novel John Locke has written has made the Amazon/Kindle Best Seller’s List. Every ten seconds, twenty-four hours a day, a John Locke novel is downloaded somewhere in the world.

For previews of upcoming books by John Locke and more information about the author, visit http://www.SavingRachel.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

LETHAL EXPERIMENT

Special Kindle Edition

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Copyright © 2009 John Locke. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

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Visit the author website: http://www.lethalbooks.com

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ISBN: 978-1-935-67003-2

Prologue

The small house was old and cramped by furniture that seemed even older. A transaction was taking place at the kitchen table, where the three of them sat. A slightly foul odor seeped in from the living room. Trish didn’t know it yet, but the next few minutes would change her life. She cleared her throat.

“We were hoping to get eighteen thousand dollars,” she said to the loan officer.

The young blond loan officer wore her hair combed back with a part midway above her left eye. “No offence,” she said, “but it took more than eighteen thousand dollars of stress to put those dark circles under your eyes. Not to mention the car in your driveway, the condition of your home, the fact you’ve been turned down by every lender in town…”

Trish swallowed, seemed about to cry.

The loan officer’s face was visually stunning, with flawless skin, impossibly high cheekbones, and sandy blond eyebrows that arched naturally over electric, pale-gray eyes. Her name was Callie Carpenter, and she was wearing driving gloves.

Trish’s husband Rob wasn’t looking at the gloves. His eyes had found a home in Callie Carpenter’s perfectly-proportioned cleavage.

“You know the vibe I’m getting?” said Callie. “Pain. Frustration. Desperation. There’s love in this home, I can feel it. But it’s being tested. I look at you guys and I see the vultures circling your marriage.”

Trish and Rob exchanged a look that seemed to confirm her words.

Trish said, “This sounds all New Age to me. I’m not sure what this has to do with our loan application.”

Callie looked at the chipped coffee cup in front of her from which she’d declined to drink. She sighed. “Let me put it another way: how much money would it take to remove the stress from your lives, allow you to sleep at night and help you remember that the important thing is not other people and what you owe them, but rather the two of you, and what you mean to each other?”

Trish had been quietly wringing her hands in her lap, and now she looked down at them as though they belonged to a stranger. “I’m afraid we have no collateral.”

Rob said, “The banks got us on one of those adjustable rate mortgages that turned south on us. Then I lost my job. Next thing you know—”

Callie held up a hand. “Stop,” she said. “Would a hundred thousand dollars get you through the bad times?”

“Oh, hell yeah!” said Rob.

Trish eyed Callie suspiciously. “We could never qualify for that type of unsecured credit.”

“This wouldn’t be a conventional loan,” said Callie, getting to her favorite part of the story. “It’s what I call a Rumplestilskin Loan.”

Trish’s voice grew sharp. “You’re mocking us. Look, Ms…”

“Carpenter.”

“…I don’t particularly care for your sense of humor. Or your personal assessment of our marriage.”

“You think I’m playing with you?” Callie opened her briefcase, spun it around to face them.

Rob’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Holy shit!” he said. “Is that a hundred grand?”

“It is.”

“This is ridiculous,” Trish said. “How could we possibly pay that back?”

“It’s not so much a loan as it is a social experiment,” Callie said. “The millionaire I represent will donate up to one hundred thousand dollars to any person I deem worthy, with one stipulation.”

“What’s that?” Rob said.

Trish’s lips curled into a sneer. She spoke the word with contempt. “Rumplestilskin.”

Callie nodded.

Rob said, “Rumple—whatever you’re saying, what’s it mean?”

Trish said, “The fairy tale. She wants our first born unless we can guess the name of her boss.”

“What?” Rob said. “That’s crazy. We’re not even pregnant.”

Callie laughed. “Trish, you’re right about there being a catch. But it has nothing to do with naming a gnome or giving up future children.”

“Then what, you want us to rob a bank for you? Kill someone?”

Callie shook her head.

“So what’s the catch?” Trish said.

“If you accept the contents of this suitcase,” Callie said, “someone will die.”

Trish said, “All right, that’s enough. This is obviously some type of TV show, but it’s the cruelest way to punk someone I’ve ever seen. Here’s an idea for the next one: get a normal-looking woman instead of a beautiful model. And don’t use all the flowery New Age language. Who’s going to buy that bullshit? Okay, so where’s the camera—in the suitcase?”

The suitcase.

From the moment Callie lifted the lid, Rob had been transfixed. He’d finally found something more compelling to stare at than Callie’s chest. Even now he couldn’t take his eyes off the cash. “Do we get some sort of fee if you put this on TV?”

Callie shook her head. “Sorry, no TV, no hidden cameras.”

“Then it doesn’t make sense.”