Earthbound : A gripping crime thriller full of twists and supernatural suspense Fynn Perry (if you liked this book TXT) 📖

and his lawyer is one of the best. I can’t rule out he may have someone on his payroll at this precinct so I switched the camera off to prevent anyone who has access to the footage from knowing my suspicions. Every time we’ve planned a raid, he’s been tipped off.” He sighed. “I’m also more concerned about Hamilton now that you’ve shown me all this. Wait here and don’t talk to anybody. I will be back before the photos finish downloading. I’m putting the recording camera back on.”

David and Jennifer said nothing. They just nodded.

Lazlo had no reservations about leaving them there with the equipment. They had offered the material voluntarily, and he had switched the ceiling security camera back on. They weren’t going to tamper with anything.

John, using his invisibility, passed through the door and headed after Lazlo. He found him sitting at his desk, talking on his landline phone. John moved closer to the earpiece to listen.

“Karl, anything back from the lab on the identity of the burnt body with the gunshot wound to the head from this morning?”

“We sent out for the DNA tests and fingerprints on the little we could get, but we’ve canceled them,” the voice on the other end said.

“Why?”

“Because we got lucky. The body had a titanium surgical implant which survived the fire. As you know every implant has a unique serial number so the manufacturer can contact the patient in case of any production faults.

“Do you have a name yet from the manufacturer?”

“Yes. It’s Paul Hamilton, and the manufacturer just sent me the social security number. I’ll send you the precise match from the social security database now, by mail,” the voice on the other end said.

Lazlo hung up without saying good-bye. He just sat there, staring into space.

John watched the detective and wondered how he could be so calm at this news. Perhaps he felt there was a chance it could be another Paul Hamilton.

Lazlo opened his email on his desktop PC. John looked at his inbox. An email had just come in from Karl Hessenmeir, Medical Examiner. The title of the message was: Case 1372: West Bronx Homicide: Positive match found.

Lazlo opened the mail. There were some lines of text, but it was the photograph of Paul Hamilton, acquired from the press database, that caught his and John’s attention. It confirmed it was the same Paul Hamilton.

John stood motionless, unable to process the information; the sounds of the busy workplace suddenly became quiet and indistinct, as if a thick bubble of shock had surrounded him. Hamilton hadn’t gone missing, he had been silenced––shot in the head and his body burnt. And the email virus had been sent to Jennifer’s email account to destroy evidence of what the journalist had seen at the fulfillment center and the workers’ village. El Gordito had to be behind it all. But what if he had tortured Hamilton and the journalist had given up Jennifer’s and her father’s names?

He tried to calm himself with the thought that if that was the case, Jennifer and her father would already be dead. Especially if, as he suspected, Santiago’s spirit was possessing El Gordito for the purposes of The Game. Jennifer’s email address didn’t have her surname in it and that fact alone might be enough to mask her identity. El Gordito would probably be satisfied, at least for now, that Hamilton’s evidence had been destroyed. More importantly, the journalist’s gruesome death, once it was on the police’s radar, would serve as a deterrent to anyone wanting to stick their nose in his business.

John’s thoughts were interrupted when Lazlo got up. The sounds of conversation from the men and women in the detective’s pen suddenly became vivid again as the initial stage of shock wore off and his senses returned. John followed Lazlo as he returned to the meeting room.

He shook his head slowly at Jennifer. She knew then that it was bad news.

“I’m sorry to tell you that Paul Hamilton is dead,” Lazlo said.

“Oh, my God!” exploded from Jennifer’s mouth, and she burst into tears. “How did he die?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t reveal the details of an ongoing murder inquiry,” he said.

“Murder? El Gordito murdered him, didn’t he?” Jennifer countered, trying to control her erratic breathing.

“We don’t know that. It could be connected with the fact that he was caught trespassing by El Gordito’s men, or it could be completely unconnected. Paul made more than a few enemies in his career.” He paused. “Look, we can’t discuss anything more here at the station, and I need to look into a few things on this. Let’s meet up at my house at eleven tonight.” He took out a business card and scribbled something on the back with a pen. “Here’s my home address.”

On the journey back to David Miller’s house, John couldn’t help but think about the journey that Hamilton’s spirit would now be taking. He pictured him going through the shock and confusion of being disembodied in a new and harrowing, parallel existence. He hoped, for Hamilton’s sake, that he had accepted his destiny and moved on. As an earthbound spirit, he would not only be lost, but also horribly disfigured.

Nineteen

Lazlo’s place of residence was a respectably maintained brownstone on 35th Street in Astoria.

“Not bad for a detective,” Jennifer commented to John and her father as she pressed the doorbell.

Lazlo opened the door and beckoned them in quickly. Seeing David and Jennifer take in the fine period furniture and antique pieces in the hallway, he explained: “My family had a thriving antique business back in the old country. I inherited this house when my father died.”

“The old country being Hungary?” Jennifer asked, with the look of someone who had done their research.

“Yes,” he replied, regarding her with a mixture of caution and surprise. “Lazlo actually comes from László, which has an extra ‘s.’ It’s a common first name in Hungary, and also used as a surname, though that’s less common. An ancestor