Chapter 6: The Doctor’s Secret
But a love spat leading to a calculated murder?
I was even more convinced Carl Donovan’s death was tied to Ethan.
Is it normal to start driving rideshare just seven days after your dad died?
When you lose someone, shouldn’t you be grieving?
I know that pain. When my father died, it took me half a year to feel halfway normal again. But with Ethan, I saw no sign of grief. Not even a flicker.
Someone like that is either ice cold or just plain heartless.
I watched the streetlights flicker across Marcus’s face, wondering if he’d ever seen that side of his friend.
Marcus kept cursing Savannah and defending Ethan. I listened, always hunting for a clue.
When we got to the station, I headed straight for my office, weighed down by it all.
I closed the door behind me, the old hinges squeaking in protest. The case file sat on my desk, already too thick for one night.
I sat down and wrote out what I’d learned:
Ethan Monroe, 32.
Occupation: Online novelist.
Personal: Father died seven days ago. Mother, two sisters, one brother. Dated Carl Donovan’s daughter for a year. Broke up after his dad’s illness.
When I finished, I set my pen down and thought, “Now Ethan has a motive. All that’s left is the evidence.”
I stared at my notepad, waiting for something to click, but the picture stayed fuzzy.
Knock, knock!
A sharp rap on the door. “Come in,” I called, and Officer Kevin Brooks stepped in.
He had a cup of coffee in one hand, a folder in the other, eyes bloodshot from too many late nights.
“Captain Sawyer, the body’s gone for autopsy. Dr. Grant’s prepping a full report. But the victim’s family is here—they want to take the body. See them now?”
“I’ll be there in a sec. Kevin, check this guy for me.” I handed him Ethan’s details.
He glanced at the name, eyebrows raised. “Already got a suspect, Captain?”
I nodded. “Keep it under wraps—where he’s been, who he’s seen, his calls. Don’t mention it to Marcus yet.”
“Isn’t Ethan Marcus’s friend? You think he’s mixed up in this?”
“That’s why I said keep it quiet.”
Kevin gave me a look—he got it. He slipped out, already pulling out his phone.
Once I was sure he was on it, I headed for the medical examiner’s office.
At the door, a middle-aged woman was sobbing, causing a scene.
Her voice echoed down the hall, rough and desperate. The receptionist tried to calm her, but she wasn’t having any of it.