Fool Wish: The Linh Davies Series, #2

By M.D. Thomas

Fool Wish (The Linh Davies Series Book 2)

 

Linh Davies has gone six months without a new possession.

But she's so desperate to get rid of the voices still trapped in her head that she'll resort to crime to be free of them.

Linh learns there's more to one of the voice's deaths than she'd known, and before long she finds herself stalking a killer. She makes a shocking discovery when she breaks into his house, and soon more than just her freedom is at risk.

If you like supernatural thrillers with a lot of suspense, you'll love Fool Wish!

A selection of comments left by reviewers of Fool Wish:

"Loved everything about this book. From the beginning to the end. It did not disappoint." 5-Star Amazon Review

"FOOL WISH is the 2nd book of Linh Davies Series, which is more engaging with lots of actions and twists and turns! Spinning suspenseful supernatural thrillers is undeniably M.D. Thomas' forte!" 5-Star Amazon Review

"What a creative writer. Fool wish has a very original plot,and many unexpected twists and turns. The characters are well thought out and hold your interest until the end. I read this book in one sitting, and was left wanting more." 5-Star Amazon Review

"I loved it. A possession story with a twist." 5-Star Amazon Review

"I am obsessed with this series and Fool Wish did not disappoint." 5-Star Amazon Review

"Read first book had to get Book 2. Amazing. Edge of seat book. Not so patiently awaiting the next Book. If you love paranormal this is an awesome read." 5-Star Amazon Review

"Original and suspenseful, I read it in one sitting." 5-Star Amazon Review

"It had me in a trance. I could not stop reading it. I had to see what would happen next." 5-Star Amazon Review

"What a great story! It had everything I look for in a book. I was hooked from the very beginning, and didn't stop reading until the very last word. I can hardly wait for the third and final piece of this story!" 5-Star Amazon Review

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.D. Thomas
• Release date: May 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781734487046

Book preview

One

After two weeks of lurking and skulking, I decided the best time to break into McGurney’s office was right after he left on Friday evening. Because Doctor McGurney was the General Surgery department head, and because he was apparently quite anal-retentive, his hours were consistent—surgeries first thing in the morning Monday through Thursday, consultations before and after lunch five days a week, and office work every afternoon until six, often including the weekends. McGurney’s assistant left an hour before her boss at the end of the work week, so six o’clock on a Friday evening was the golden hour when it came to breaking and entering.

This is a bad idea, Linh, Amanda said as I neared the corner of the hallway that held McGurney’s office.

We’ve been over this. I won’t sit and wait for the Surgeon or Scarlet to decide they want to follow in Elizabeth’s footsteps….

Amanda didn’t answer. Not surprising, given she was the third checkbox on the list of voices I had to get out of my head, and she knew it. The need to have my mind to myself once and for all had grown every week since Elizabeth Bauer had taken over my body and nearly killed me. I cared about Amanda and considered her a friend, as odd as that sounded, but stress at work, increasingly sleepless nights, and the debilitating paranoia I felt every time I saw a knife meant I had no choice—all the extra voices upstairs had to go, personal feelings or not.

I don’t think Conner or Dicky would approve of this, Amanda said. What if you get caught?

I won’t. McGurney runs like a clock. And as for Conner and Dicky…they aren’t the ones stuck with you guys.

It wasn’t Amanda and I’s first conversational merry-go-round about getting the Surgeon—Carlton Foster before he croaked, whose last wish was to have his rival Robert McGurney fired—to move on. Amanda thought it was too risky and that it was unfair to McGurney, though there was likely more to it than that—Amanda knew if I succeeded that Scarlet or her would be next. Perhaps Amanda—Ms. Religious herself—was frightened about moving on from my head to what she hoped was her final destination. Maybe not as frightened as I was about one of the voices in my head deciding it was time to take over Chéz Davies, but still.

A glance at my watch showed it was ten til six.

I poked my head around the corner—I felt a bit foolish, but I’d put off doing something too damn long already. The hall was empty.

McGurney’s office was behind his assistant’s. She’d departed at five as usual—I’d made sure of that by passing her door thirty minutes ago, which was always left open until her boss went home. McGurney would be leaving in ten minutes, which meant it was time for the riskiest part of the plan, at least as I saw it.

I checked both halls once more to make sure no one was coming, then strode around the corner and toward McGurney’s office. Halfway down the hall I took out the roll of scotch tape I’d lifted from a desk in the emergency department and rolled off two pieces about four inches long, stuck them on two different fingertips, then put the roll back in the pocket of my white coat.

My heart was thumping ninety to nothing and I hoped I didn’t start sweating so much I ruined the tape.

The door into the assistant’s room was glass on the upper half, but the door into McGurney’s office was solid wood—he always left it cracked to let people know he was in, which was the only reason my plan had a chance.

I’d worn my quietest pair of shoes that shift so McGurney wouldn’t hear me and look up from whatever he was doing. I glanced back to confirm I was alone on the hall, spread one piece of tape between my fingers, and went into the assistant’s office.

Incompetent bastard, the Surgeon muttered when I approached McGurney’s door, his nameplate prominent in brass.

I bent over—certain McGurney would randomly open the door or that someone would choose that moment to pass by in the hallway—and applied the tape over the slot for the door latch. The doors only had button locks, which was damn good since I didn’t have the skill to pick a deadbolt and wasn’t quite desperate enough to assault one of the janitorial staff for a key copy. The tape covered the hole in the strike plate completely and I pressed it firmly in place, went to the assistant’s door and repeated the procedure with the second piece, then left and hurried back the way I’d come. Hopefully the pieces of tape wouldn’t buckle as soon as the door latches hit them.

My hands were still shaking in my pockets when I rounded the corner I’d hidden behind earlier. I didn’t stop there, but went down the hall to the nearest bathroom, where I splashed cold water on my face and took a deep breath. Sneaking made me nervous, but since I’d killed Steven Bauer six months ago, I’d come to one definite conclusion—sitting around and waiting to be a victim again was no longer an option.

I slid on a pair of latex gloves I’d stashed in a coat pocket before I left the bathroom. Back in the hall, I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets—if someone noticed and made a remark, I could claim I’d forgotten them, which happened often enough in the hospital. I strolled back toward McGurney’s office, but no sooner had I rounded the corner then I nearly bumped into him—with his trench coat, briefcase in one hand, and disposable paper cup in the other, he looked a bit like a caricature of a mid-nineteenth century doctor.

Excuse me, McGurney said, pulling back so quickly his uncovered drink nearly sloshed over the rim of the cup. How are you, Dr. Davies?

McGurney was one of those annoying people who remembered the name of everyone they met once, unlike myself, who usually forgot someone’s name about two seconds after I heard it.

Asshole can’t even watch where he’s going, the Surgeon said. Then he cackled. He doesn’t have a clue what’s about to happen to him!

I didn’t have a clue what might happen to McGurney either, but I didn’t bother telling the Surgeon that. I used to believe the Surgeon couldn’t change since he’d gotten stuck in my head, but it really seemed like he’d been more…giddy…since he’d learned I was finally trying to get McGurney axed by the hospital.

I’m fine, Doctor McGurney, I said, wondering if he’d heard the dirt on me like just about everyone else in the hospital—it was no secret I’d shot and killed the father of one of my patients. I moved aside and stepped past McGurney, not wanting to engage in any sort of conversation. Have a good weekend.

Enjoy it while you can, douchebag! the Surgeon said, cackling wildly.

You too, McGurney said, and, taking a sip of his drink, he went on his way.

Jesus, I nearly swallowed my tongue….

Linh…, Amanda said, getting ready to preach.

Not right now, Amanda. I need to focus….

I waited around the corner for a moment, then made sure McGurney was nowhere in sight. Satisfied McGurney was on his way home, I hurried toward his office.

Please let it have worked, I thought, hesitating before the assistant’s door.

Hurry up, Amanda said, apparently moving past her own reluctance. Someone might come down the hall. Or worse, the tape might pop off if you wait too long….

That got me moving.

I removed my gloved hands from my coat, grabbed the handle, and the door swung right open.

Thank god, I said.

Amanda had nothing to add to that.

I stepped into the office, retrieved the tape—which I wadded up and dropped in a pocket—then closed the door behind me. From the hallway, the door could now only be unlocked with a key.

Hurrying since anyone in the hall could still see me through the assistant’s door, I stepped up to McGurney’s office. Next to it along the wall was a small table that held an electric tea kettle, two glass containers filled with tea bags, and an upside-down stack of paper cups—I’d seen it when I placed the tape on the strike plates, but hadn’t really paid attention to it.

Weird bastard, the Surgeon said, guzzling tea all day long….

Ignoring him, I tried the second door—it had held as well.

Inside, I closed McGurney’s door behind me and leaned against the wood for a moment, my heart beating too fast—it made the adrenaline bumps I experienced in the emergency department seem like nothing.

McGurney’s office was decorated sparingly, his framed diplomas and licenses the only decorations on the walls. There was little more furniture than his large L-shaped desk, which also had a couple of chairs for visitors. The room itself was fairly large though, with a double set of windows looking over the Washington, D. C. cityscape, though there were no monuments in sight, just the surrounding buildings.

I walked behind the desk to where there was a second door in the rear corner of the room, which I hadn’t expected. Worried it might open to another office, I cracked the door cautiously, only to reveal a small storage closet that held spare scrubs and coats on a rod, as well as some shoes on the floor. I closed the closet door and went to the desk.

The leg of McGurney’s desk that looked toward the windows held two large Samsung displays, while the other leg faced the chairs and the entrance. The desk chair had been left in front of the computer screens, which had fractal screensavers fluctuating hypnotically across them.

I pulled out the chair, and sat down, immediately moved the computer’s mouse. The screensavers turned off, but a lock screen came up demanding McGurney’s password. That didn’t surprise me since the hospital had to be pretty strict about access to any computers that might allow access to patient information.

Spinning the chair ninety degrees let me face the door and the top of the desk. There were a few papers stacked neatly in front of me, while the normal detritus of pens, pencils, tape dispenser, stapler, and phone appeared to be laid out on an invisible gridline that must only exist in McGurney’s head. This guy is pretty tightly wound, I thought as I looked around. There wasn’t even a speck of dust on the desk. In one corner were a couple of framed pictures of him and his family. McGurney’s wife was attractive, and his three kids—two girls and a boy—looked like they fell straight out of a preppy clothing catalog. They looked happy.

Trying to push away a surge of guilt, I leaned forward and examined the papers. They were in a cascading stack, so I could see the entire top paper, half of the paper below that, and half of the one below that. I almost picked them up, but decided there was no way I was as anal as McGurney—he’d surely notice if they weren’t as neat when I restacked them. I read what was visible, but it was all useless, boring departmental work.

I needed dirt. Not even just dirt, but scum. Something that could get McGurney fired. That was the entire point of this foolish operation.

I need your help here, Surgeon. Tell me what to look for….

McGurney shouldn’t have this office, the Surgeon said. I should. Whether that was a reply or a comment was anybody’s guess.

Sighing, I rolled the chair back. The desk had three narrow drawers to each side of a wide one in the center. I pulled the handle of the wide one first, opening it as much as possible while being sure it wouldn’t fall out and disgorge all of McGurney’s carefully arranged office supplies. There was nothing useful in the drawer, no illicit pictures or drugs, not even a random thumb drive that might contain incriminating files. Worse, there was an old-fashioned letter opener that resembled a knife just enough that my hands started to shake—I closed the drawer without searching more. Even if McGurney was into something illicit, it wouldn’t be so easy to find. More likely was that McGurney was squeaky clean, which would be my luck. I closed the drawer and moved on.

The next drawer revealed more supplies—printer paper, white mailing envelopes, brown inter-departmental envelopes—but, again, nothing personal.

I was opening another drawer when I heard a voice outside the office.

I froze, realized the voice was getting nearer, then closed the drawer as quietly as I could. There was no way to tell who was approaching, but the presence of anybody out there was frightening enough. I shot to my feet, replaced the chair facing the monitors, and was heading toward the door when the sound of jingling keys reached my ears.

Two

Oh shit—

I considered hiding behind the door as it opened, but I’d be screwed if whoever was coming in closed it again. So I ran to the corner of the office, opened the small closet door, and leapt inside. I pulled the door closed behind me as I pushed in between the hanging clothes, banging my head on the hanger rod as I went. My forehead throbbing, I turned my back toward the closet wall and froze. I couldn’t see a damn thing.

Don’t worry about it, Stu, McGurney said, his voice only slightly muffled by the thin closet door. I’ll shoot Amy a text. We didn’t have any plans tonight so she won’t mind. She knows I’ve been waiting to get this data for months. Now you said the final patient cohort of the study matched all the others, right? Okay, let me just bring up the data.

It took everything I had not to fall to my knees—McGurney was settling in.

Great. Now I get to hide in his closet while he analyzes data….

Maybe he’ll say something incriminating, Amanda said, breaking her silence.

I was the one who gave him the idea to look at asymmetrical ductal ligation reconstruction, the Surgeon said. Then the arrogant bastard had the gall to name the process the McGurney Method! Can you believe that?

The Surgeon’s comment was intriguing, but right then wasn’t the time to pursue it. Moving as quietly as possible, I removed my cell phone from a coat pocket. I was going to just mute it, then decided I should shut the damn thing off so an unexpected call or text wouldn’t get through somehow and give me away. I checked the time—only a quarter after six—then shut it down and returned it to my pocket.

McGurney was still talking to Stu, whoever the hell that was. Wondering how long it would be before my feet started to hurt, I focused on McGurney’s voice.

Some unknown number of hours later—and more knowledgeable about bile duct ligation than I ever wanted to be—Scarlet woke up.

Why’s it so damn dark, Sugar-bear? You trying to sleep already?

No. It’s a long story, but for the moment I’m stuck in a closet.

You coming out soon? Scarlet laughed, amused by her own bad joke. ‘Cause I’m ready to start the new season of The Walking Dead. I think I might like it more than True Blood, which I never woulda dreamed….

Soon as I’m able.

Thanks Sweetie…. Scarlet had become much more forgiving about her television time since Bauer’s death, which made me wonder again if the Surgeon had changed as well. I’d been so disturbed by his presence that I’d assumed he had nothing useful to say, but perhaps I’d just refused to listen.

Dr. Foster? I called, thinking perhaps his actual name might draw him out. Have you been listening to McGurney?

For a moment there was only silence—in my head at least; in the office McGurney had made yet another phone call to Stu—and then the Surgeon spoke up.

It’s disgusting listening to him….

If you want me to get this guy fired you’re going to have to help me, I thought. I need some dirt on him—do you know anything at all?

The Surgeon muttered. He got me passed over. I was in line to be the next department head. But McGurney coddled up to old Kristoff and wormed into his good graces,