“Are we talking about four years ago?When you were illegally drugged by a colleague?”
Gabe nodded.“This isn’t some random vendetta, Mike.This is systematic destruction, and it all traces back to one case.”
“Melissa Carpenter.”Mike’s voice was flat as he opened the thick folder.
“Yeah.”Gabe scrubbed a hand across his face, feeling the scratchiness of two days’ worth of stubble along his jawline.“Another surgeon had to be brought in stat, to handle my screw-up—”
“Stop.Do not blame yourself.That’s exactly what this person wants, for you to wallow in guilt.Every single step of this case has been scrutinized with a fine-tooth comb, all the way from the surgical committee at the hospital to the Medical Board of California and everybody in between.”
“This doesn’t get us closer to figuring out who hates me enough to want to kill my wife though.Because we both know his next step is to put a bullet between my eyes.”
The memory still haunted Gabe’s dreams—the distorted, yet frantic race against time, him being dragged out of the operating room while another surgeon struggled to save Melissa’s life.He remembered the moment he was clear minded enough to understand her heart had stopped and refused to restart despite every lifesaving method employed to try and save her.
Mike studied the behavioral profile Gabe had written.“I’ve looked at the profile you’ve written.”A slight smile curved his lips.“If you hadn’t decided to stick with medicine, you’d have made a decent profiler.Might even have given me a run for my money.You’ve identified the unsub as someone with medical knowledge—enough to understand the complexity of the surgery and exploit perceived weaknesses in your decisions.They aren’t taking into account your impaired decision making.That’s a big red flag.I don’t agree that it’s somebody with their own specific medical knowledge.I think it’s somebody who was determined to find something wrong, and hired others to interpret the data, to look at the records.Someone with resources to hire professionals across multiple states.Someone with a personal connection to the victim strong enough to justify this level of planning.”
“But—”
Mike continued on as though Gabe hadn’t interrupted.“We cleared her family, her coworkers, her friends.Her children are far too young to have anything to do with this.”He stood and began pacing, the confined space only allowing so much walking room.“But my gut’s telling me there’s something we missed about the fiancé, Julian Banner.He disappeared shortly after her funeral.Sold his consulting firm, liquidated his assets, dropped off the radar.”
“Standard grief response.People run from painful memories.”
“Or to plan their revenge.”
Gabe stood at the window overlooking downtown Austin.“When the phone calls first started, I investigated Banner.Well, not me personally, but I hired a private investigator to check into him.He seemed like a viable suspect.A financial analyst, he specialized in corporate acquisitions.He’d know how to move money without leaving traces, how to structure payments through shell companies.And he blamed me publicly at her funeral, Mike.Said I’d murdered the only woman he’d ever love.”
Mike flipped through the surveillance photos from the roof across from Daisy’s Diner.“Allegedly, the shooter in Shiloh Springs was a professional—I’d suspect former military, probably special forces based on the precision and positioning.That kind of talent doesn’t come cheap.”
“Banner inherited two million from his father’s insurance business six months before Melissa died.Add his consulting firm’s sale value, and he’d have enough capital to fund a long-term operation.”Gabe turned back to his friend.“I want to draw him out.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Listen to me.”Gabe’s voice carried the authority he’d developed in the past decade of making life-and-death decisions.“He’s escalated to trying to kill my wife.Next time, he might succeed, or he’ll go after other members of Nica’s family—my friends.I won’t let that happen.”
Mike stood, his expression hardening.“You’re still thinking about using yourself as bait for a man who’s demonstrated he can reach out and touch anyone, anywhere, aren’t you?A man who just put a sniper’s bullet through your wife’s chest.”
“Which is exactly why this ends now.”Gabe moved to the evidence board, pointing to where he’d outlined everything that had happened, especially in the last several months.The phone calls.The threats to go to the press.The records and letter sent to Nica, wanting to cause a rift between him and his wife.The break-in at the clinic with Melissa’s name scrawled across the wall.His wife being shot.Each action showed an escalation from threats to actual violence.“He wants me to suffer before he kills me.He wants me to lose everything I care about, just like he lost Melissa.But his need for psychological torture is also his weakness.”
“Explain.”
Gabe picked up a red marker and began connecting dots on the timeline.“Every attack has been designed to isolate me, to destroy my reputation and relationships systematically.He wants me broken and alone when he finally makes his move.But if I appear to be exactly that—if I seem to have lost everything and everyone—he’ll have to surface to savor his victory.”
Mike studied the pattern, his analytical mind engaging with the problem.“You’re thinking of staging your own downfall.”
“Complete professional destruction.Make it look like the weight of the attacks has finally broken me.Public breakdown, maybe a dramatic resignation from the hospital, apparent abandonment by family and friends.”Gabe’s eyes were cold as winter steel.“He’ll want a front-row seat for my collapse.”
“And then?”
“Then we’ll be waiting for him to make his final move.Hiscoup de grace.”
Mike was quiet for a long moment, studying the evidence spread across the table as well as the outline on the white board.“It’s risky.If we’re wrong about his psychology, if he’s moved beyond the need for personal satisfaction…”
“He hasn’t.”Gabe’s certainty was absolute.“The shot that hit Nica came from 800 yards away.Who’s to say the sniper isn’t waiting to make another attempt?Any competent sniper could take another shot through her hospital room window and finish the job.But I think Banner has called him off.I’ve thought about this endlessly since Nica was shot.Banner wants to watch me fall apart.Wants to gloat at having gotten exactly what he wants—me humiliated and desolate, alone and heartbroken, to feel the way he feels.He wants Nica dead, because as long as she’s alive, I have a chance and happiness, and I think he can’t allow that to happen.”
“The Boudreau family won’t like this plan.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Gabe’s face.“Actually, they’ve already volunteered to help.A few of Nica’s brothers are former military, her father is ex-Army Special Forces.They know how to play their parts, and they want this monster as badly as I do.”
Mike nodded slowly, a soft sigh passing his lips.“We need to make it look real.Hospital administration, media contacts both in Shiloh Springs as well as major outlets in Houston and probably Dallas-Fort Worth.Would probably be a good idea to have a hit piece run in the paper in Stanford.I bet Banner would eat that up.Local law enforcement will have to believe you’ve cracked under the pressure.”
