Out of touch, p.1
Out of Touch, page 1
O U T O F T O U C H
(A Dylan First FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 2)
K a t e B o l d
Kate Bold
Bestselling author Kate Bold is author of the ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eight books (and counting); the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting); the KAYLIE BROOKS PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); and the LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting).
An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.
Copyright © 2023 by Kate Bold. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Pumbastyle, used under license from Shutterstock.com.
BOOKS BY KATE BOLD
LAUREN LAMB SUSPENSE THRILLER
SOMETHING KNOCKING (Book #1)
SOMETHING CALLING (Book #2)
SOMETHING WRONG (Book #3)
SOMETHING DARK (Book #4)
SOMETHING TO HIDE (Book #5)
ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER
THE KILLING GAME (Book #1)
THE KILLING TIDE (Book #2)
THE KILLING HOUR (Book #3)
THE KILLING POINT (Book #4)
THE KILLING FOG (Book #5)
THE KILLING PLACE (Book #6)
ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER
LET ME GO (Book #1)
LET ME OUT (Book #2)
LET ME LIVE (Book #3)
LET ME BREATHE (Book #4)
LET ME FORGET (Book #5)
LET ME ESCAPE (Book #6)
CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER
NOT ME (Book #1)
NOT NOW (Book #2)
NOT WELL (Book #3)
NOT HER (Book #4)
NOT NORMAL (Book #5)
NOT AGAIN (Book #6)
NOT SAFE (Book #7)
NOT TODAY (Book #8)
HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER
NOWHERE SAFE (Book #1)
NOWHERE LEFT (Book #2)
NOWHERE TO RUN (Book #3)
NOWHERE LIKE THIS (Book #4)
NOWHERE GIRL (Book #5)
NOWHERE TO HIDE (Book #6)
NOWHERE CERTAIN (Book #7)
KAYLIE BROOKS PYSCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER
LAST BREATH (Book #1)
LAST CHANCE (Book #2)
LAST WISH (Book #3)
LAST SHOT (Book #4)
LAST MISTAKE (Book #5)
EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER
IN HIS BLOOD (Book #1)
IN HIS SIGHTS (Book #2)
IN HIS REACH (Book #3)
IN HIS MIND (Book #4)
IN HIS WAY (Book #5)
IN HIS THOUGHTS (Book #5)
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
PROLOGUE
Dr. Charles Cameron smiled with pleased expectation.
Now is the time, he thought.
This was the moment he’d been waiting for. The timing was right. Those footsteps in the corridor were the ones he’d wanted to hear.
And he knew he was more than ready. He didn’t even feel the least bit nervous. His breathing didn’t quicken, and he was sure his pulse didn’t either. His entire nervous system was calm and alert, and he felt poised for action.
Dr. Cameron was serving multiple consecutive life sentences in Atterfield Penitentiary. The series of grotesque and brutal murders he’d committed had earned him a nickname:
The Puppet Master.
But now his life in prison was about to come to an end—at least if everything went as planned.
When the footsteps came to a stop, Cameron spoke softly through the door.
“Good evening, Johnny. How’re things?”
He heard a familiar growl of bitter dismay.
“As usual, I guess,” came the reply. “How about yourself?”
“Oh, it’s just the same-old, same-old.”
He heard the prison guard let out a small laugh at the rather stale witticism.
Then he heard the slot open at the bottom of his solid steel door. Johnny was getting ready to slide his late evening meal into the cell.
But Cameron had different plans.
“Hey, good buddy, why don’t you deliver that in person? Come in for a chat while I eat.”
A silence fell. For a moment, Cameron felt a twinge of worry.
Has the trigger worn off?
The term “good buddy” was a posthypnotic suggestion he’d planted in Johnny Unger’s mind quite some time back. This particular prison guard had a rather feeble psyche, and he succumbed to suggestion quite easily. Cameron had been able to hypnotize him merely with the sound of his voice, even through that steel door. Soon he had become able to put him back into a trance merely by saying the words “good buddy.”
Of course it helped that Johnny held him in awe. The guard didn’t even bother to disguise the fact that he was a fan. Actually more than a fan, Cameron knew. With his keen knowledge of the human psyche, he understood Johnny better than Johnny understood himself. He was well aware that Johnny was deeply envious of the famous prisoner’s mystique and prowess.
That was what made Johnny such a willing pawn to Cameron’s will …
At least usually.
But this time, Johnny remained still and silent, even after Cameron had uttered those words “good buddy.”
Finally he heard the reply.
“Yeah, that might be nice.”
Cameron smiled as he heard the latch turning in the heavy door. Although the situation was going to get dangerous pretty soon, everything was going perfectly so far.
Of course, here at Atterfield it was absolutely forbidden for Johnny to open that door, much less come into that cell. But this wasn’t the first time Cameron had lured his guard inside. And since the supermax lockup was considered so secure, Johnny was the only guard in this hallway at this time. There was little chance he’d be caught visiting a prisoner.
The sound of the door opening was punctuated by a flash of light through the cell’s tall, narrow slit of a window. A deep rumbling sound followed.
Thunder.
Even with that limited view of the world outside, Cameron could see that a storm was brewing.
Although he hadn’t planned on that kind of weather, he wasn’t discouraged. In fact, he thought he might be able to turn a thunderstorm to his advantage. The prison’s electrical wiring was old and faulty, and a strong bolt of lightning often caused the lights to dim or go out. That didn’t affect the security of those locked doors, but a little unexpected darkness wouldn’t hurt Cameron’s plan.
Even getting soaked to the skin would be a small price to pay for his freedom. A nice big storm would also make it more difficult to track him through the night.
The heavy door opened, and Johnny stepped into the cell holding the food tray. He gazed around at the solid concrete furnishings and smiled as though he’d entered a good friend’s comfortable home.
“Dinner is served,” he said with a chuckle. Then he just stood there, as though awaiting orders.
The prisoner felt a surge of satisfaction. An untrained viewer wouldn’t be able to guess that his guard was in a deeply suggestible state. The man seemed fully awake and perfectly happy to be where he was right now.
“Thanks,” Cameron replied. “Set it down on the floor, OK? I’ll eat in a little while. Let’s enjoy our visit.”
As Johnny set the tray down, there was another flash of lightning followed by a rumble of thunder, and this time the lights in the cell flickered a bit. Cameron was pleased. The thunder, lightning, and dimming lights were all welcome additions to an atmosphere of suggestibility.
He was sitting on his bed, and Johnny stood directly in front of him. The only other possible seats were a little round concrete table, which was occupied by books, and the metal sink and toilet. Those fixed furnishings and the small shower took up much of his 9-by-12-foot cell.
But Cameron didn’t offer the guard a seat on the bed beside him. He wanted to keep Johnny on his feet. He needed to make a last-minute check of some essential details.
It helped that this guard was of nearly the same size, build, and complexion as the prisoner. They both had dark but graying hair, but Cameron knew that his own face was more haggard, his features sharper. He was aware that his own gray eyes were more intense than Johnny’s dull brown ones, and that his own voice projected a great deal more energy and enthusiasm. In fact, due to his own rigorous workouts, his body was in much better shape than that of his guard.
But Cameron was confident that those differences could be disguised.
The trick was going to be to mimic everything about Johnny’s manner, including the timbre and intonations of his voice. During their rare encounters outside his cell, Cameron had closely observed that slouching walk and slight limp from some old injury. He’d spent hours alone in his cell imitating everything about the prison guard, getting every nuance down perfectly.
Dr. Cameron was ready now.
“You look tired, Johnny,” he said in a soothing and sympathetic voice.
Johnny’s expression changed immediately. His smile disappeared and his eyelids drooped.
It’s working.
“I guess I am tired,” Johnny muttered.
“I worry about you. I’m afraid this job is taking a toll on you. This place doesn’t suit you.”
Then with a slight chuckle, Cameron added, “But then, it doesn’t exactly suit me, either.”
“No, I don’t suppose it does,” Johnny said in a dull voice. “You really don’t belong here. I guess neither of us does.”
“Maybe it’s time for a change.”
“Maybe.”
“Got any ideas?”
Cameron put a slight emphasis on those three words. Weak-willed as he was, Johnny would better serve Cameron’s purposes if he thought he was acting out his own ideas.
Not that he really has any ideas of his own.
But Cameron had already dropped hints and planted suggestions, and Johnny would feel like they were his own as they resurfaced in his psyche.
“I could quit this job, I guess,” Johnny replied.
“You could do that.”
“Or get myself fired.”
“You could do that too. But what about me? For me it’s not that simple.”
Johnny’s eyes were nearly closed now. He tilted his head thoughtfully and spoke in a sleepy voice.
“You don’t belong here,” he repeated. “You could escape.”
“That’s a great idea, Johnny. Thanks for coming up with it. Might not be easy, though.”
“Guess not.”
“Got any suggestions?”
Johnny seemed deep in thought as he searched his mind.
Finally, he found the idea that Cameron had already planted there.
“We could change places,” Johnny said.
“Now that’s an interesting thought. Of course, we’re just talking now. It doesn’t mean we’re going to do it. How might we go about it?”
“We could change clothes.”
“Yeah, maybe. Do you think our clothes would fit each other?”
“I don’t know.”
“How do you think we could find out?”
A silence fell, and Johnny swayed a little on his feet.
“We could change clothes and see.”
Cameron let out a low chuckle of pleased agreement.
“Why don’t we try that? As long as we’re just talking, anyway. What’s the harm in just checking it out?”
“Yeah, what’s the harm?”
The moment was punctuated by another flash of lightning, a rumble of thunder, and a flicker of the overhead light. In a matter of moments, the two men had completely changed clothes. Johnny was wearing Cameron’s orange jumpsuit, and Cameron was wearing Johnny’s prison guard uniform. They’d also switched positions. Johnny was now sitting on the bed, and Cameron was standing right in front of him. Johnny’s body was in an even deeper slouch than usual.
“You really do look tired, Johnny,” Cameron said in a soft, purring voice.
“I guess I am.”
“You know, you could close your eyes for just a few minutes. You could take a little snooze. Nobody has to know.”
Johnny seemed about to speak. Instead, his head dropped forward and he started breathing slowly and audibly.
He’s all the way under.
The keys to the cell were attached to Johnny’s belt, which Cameron was now wearing. When the lock gave way and the steel door swung slightly ajar, Cameron controlled the urge to bolt out through it.
He looked back at the food tray lying on the floor.
I’m going to need that.
He picked up the tray and exited the cell, locking it up behind him. Then, carefully mimicking Johnny’s slouch and limp and other physical mannerisms, he took the tray down the corridor of maximum-security cells until he reached the first checkpoint. A guard was sitting at a desk facing a bank of video monitors showing the activity in that part of the prison.
But the guard wasn’t looking at the monitors. His nose was buried in a celebrity magazine. He barely glanced up as Cameron slouched by.
“Hey, Johnny,” he said. “Did Cameron already finish eating?”
Cameron carefully duplicated Johnny’s manner of speech, down to its nasal tone and bland inflection and ever-so-slight lisp.
“Naw, he found a cockroach in his ‘mystery meat.’ I’ve got to take this back to the kitchen.”
“Huh,” the checkpoint guard said. “Sounds like he’s getting some pretty special treatment.”
Cameron let out a Johnny-style chuckle.
“Hey, he’s the Puppet Master.”
The guard chuckled back at him.
“He’s some kind of prison royalty, ain’t he?”
“That’s right. I’ll see you later.”
Cameron felt a surge of satisfaction as he continued on his way. Through his cunning mimicry, he’d just performed a small bit of waking suggestion. Just as he’d expected, the checkpoint guard hadn’t bothered to make eye contact with him, and therefore hadn’t taken a good look at his face. Cameron had been correct in his assumption that people just didn’t bother really looking at a nobody like Johnny.
And that suited his purposes perfectly.
But now things were going to get challenging as he continued on his way through the kitchen and out onto the loading dock and out into the rainy night.
He heard a crack of thunder, and the lights dimmed again.
At least the weather’s favorable, he thought with a smile.
CHAPTER ONE
“Have you gotten any news?” Dr. Peter Freedman asked.
It was the second time today that Dylan’s boss had poked his head through her office doorway to ask that same question.
And at least the fifth time this week, she thought.
But she did understand why he was anxious about the topic.
“No, I haven’t heard anything,” she told him. “You’ll be the first to know when I do.”
“OK, then.”
The short, balding man was well-groomed as usual, wearing a white shirt, bow tie, and vest. He just stood there silently for a moment, gazing around the spacious, pastel-decorated room with an awkward show of nonchalance.
“Are you between clients?” he asked.
“Actually, I’m about to start my lunch break.”
“May I join you for a few moments?”
“Sure.”
Dr. Freedman stepped into her office and sat down in the comfortable chair across from her desk. The feeling between the two of them was distinctly awkward, and for a long moment neither said anything.
As a talented twenty-six-year-old with an advanced degree in psychology, Dylan First should have felt right at home among the bevy of therapists at the Sunbeam Mental Health Clinic. But recently, she had found herself contemplating a very different career. That was because Dylan’s psychoanalytic skills had really blazed brightest when she’d helped the FBI hunt down a serial killer.
