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CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Part Two

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

Part Three

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Untitled Document

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

From the Author

Heartless

(A Derek Cole Suspense Thriller)

T Patrick Phelps

Jabby House Publications

https://www.facebook.com/authortpp

Editor: Marjorie Kramer

Phoenix Rising Editing

phoenix.rising.editing@gmail.com

Cover Designed by Nathaniel Dasco

Connect with the author on his Facebook Page.

https://www.facebook.com/authortpp

Copyright © 2014 T Patrick Phelps Writing Services, Inc.

All rights reserved.

CHAPTER ONE

2014

“I didn’t know where else to turn.”

Derek Cole hated hearing those words. In his line of work, he came to expect that his clients would feel this way, but each time he heard a client tell him that the only reason they contacted him was out of desperation, he cringed at being their last option.

“No one else would ever believe me,” his client said as he sat on the damp park bench beside Derek.

Derek preferred to meet his clients in parks in whichever city they happen to be. This city was Chicago and the park was Grant Park. He liked being outside and preferred meeting with clients in places that, if things took a wrong turn, he could have both quick access to an exit and enough people around to discourage ill-tempered clients from making a scene.

Or worse.

While Derek stood exactly six feet tall and weighed a solid 190, his light brown hair, clean-shaven face, and power blue eyes did not give him the intimidating looks that others in his line of work enjoyed. He had found himself in “challenging” circumstances with past clients when he used to meet with them in whatever hotel Derek was staying. He decided after one client gave him a broken nose and a slight concussion that outdoor client meetings in public places were better choices.

After receiving a call from this new client yesterday and after confirming that the “down payment” was safely deposited in his account, Derek purchased a one-way ticket from his hometown airport to Chicago’s O’Hare. Though Derek had visited the windy city a few times during his years working as a “freelance detective,” he hadn’t spent enough time in Chicago to learn his way around. What Derek did know was that Grant Park, like most every public park in America, would not offer any degree of suspicious privacy.

“You understand that you are paying my accrued fees whether or not I can help you, correct?” Derek said.

“Of course. Money is not an issue,” his client responded.

Derek liked it when money wasn’t an issue. He liked when clients understood that his services were expensive and didn’t barter over the final tab.

“You’ve been on the clock for the past sixteen hours.”

“Understood.”

“Good,” Derek said as he pulled out a moleskin notepad and fine point black pen. The moleskin notebook was a gift from his last client, given to Derek to replace his reliance on scraps of paper, napkins, and Egg McMuffin wrappers to serve as his notebook. “Please don’t vomit your whole story on me. Let me guide you through what I need to know. If I ask for details, then and only then do I want you to give me details. If I say ‘vomit,’ then feel free to tell me everything you know, including your opinions. Make sense?”

“Yes. Can we begin?”

“Start with your full name and how it was that you learned of my services.”

“My name is Thomas O’Connell. I prefer to be called ‘Thomas.’ My uncle, Roger O’Connell hired you last year. Says that you’re the best man for the job.”

“Roger O’Connell is your uncle?” Derek said. “The lawyer outside of Chicago? Good guy. Paid without an argument, and I was able to solve his problem in just two or three days, if I remember correctly.”