Played: “Sometimes you never know who is playing who, until the damage is done." by Bad-Boy Storyteller Page A

And I am having very bad thoughts!”
    Now sensing she’s losing him, she begins some tough love. “Trace, think about the scene your wife or kids will see when they come home and see your brains all over the wall, think about how that will affect them for the rest of their lives!”
    Her tactic doesn’t work. He simply replies, “I left the door open for the detective, and I am waiting for him.”
    But Maggie isn’t ready to give up. She retreats to her soft-toned voice, saying, “I know you’ve been through tough times before, Trace, and you sound like the kind of man who can get through this. And what do you mean that you’re waiting for the detective?”
    He ignores her statement and asks, “What is your name?”
    “My name is Maggie—Maggie Aversen. Trace, please, please let me help you.”
    “Maggie, do you believe in God?”
    “Yes, yes I do, and God can help.”
    Then for the second time, he begins to break down. His words crack with desperation as he strains to hold back the fear and frustration that have built up inside him. “Maggie, will you pray for God to help me?”
    “Yes, I will, and we can pray—”
    Next all she hears is what sounds like a choked-up thank you as the line goes silent.

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    Chapter Ten
    A quick glance down the hall to make certain the coast is clear gives Officer Lonnell the green light. He sneaks into the video room and taps the space bar on the keyboard, activating the computer screen. Then, after a quick search, he finds what he’s looking for—a file for Amberly Carlson. He plays the clip and, in a short time, learns all that he doesn’t need to know.
    Twenty-seven blocks away, at The Seattle Times, Chuck Sheumer and his editor are discussing whether to sell their new information to the television networks or just hope they’re the first to break the story in tomorrow’s paper. Little do they know but their decision will be made in a matter of seconds.
    Chucks phone chimes, indicating a new text message.
    Rainman: Kimberly was missing before Joshua did the deed—friend from kitty club says she lied for her—Kimberly was not at work when the police raided his home
    Chuck: confirmed?
    Rainman: Yes Chuck: this is good—very good
    Rainman: I want to be careful—erase these texts—meet me @ Charlie’s 9:30
    Chuck: done—see you then

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    Chapter Eleven
    C ools stands knocking at the deputy mayor’s residence. “Hello, is anyone home? This is Detective Cools from the Seattle Police Department,” he announces through the open front door. “Hello, Detective Cools here; is anyone home?” Just an hour before, Amberly told them about Friesen. Then Cools made the call and spoke with him on the phone, so it seems odd, to both he and Michelle, that the door has been left partly open and no one is answering. They enter into the foyer. “Hello, Trace…Trace Friesen, are you here?” But still there’s no response.
    Then Michelle yells out into the lavish home, calling for him, her sweet voice resonating off the high ceilings—but no reply. She looks around; everything is clean, seamless, and ear-piercingly quiet.
    Cools continues calling as they walk through the living room area, his loafers clicking on the hardwood floors. He and Michelle exchange looks of bewilderment. She thinks maybe it’s just because they are standing in another man’s home that the voiceless residence seems to have an unnatural presence. And Cools, after spying a few indoor security cameras, gets the strange feeling they’re being watched. Even if they are, it should be very clear to anyone that they are the police. He is wearing a black suit, a thin black tie, and hanging from his belt is a detective’s badge—the normal look for any detective, except Cools doesn’t wear a bulletproof vest; he thinks of them as bulky and bothersome. Michelle also has her badge hanging from her dark gray pantsuit. Their host could very well be distracted by the upper part of her outfit, which is revealing a