Brain Dead

A Suspense Novel

by

Eileen Dreyer

New York Times bestselling Author

BRAIN DEAD

Reviews & Accolades

4 ½ Stars – Romantic Times

REVIEWS

"Dreyer writes with great wit and sensitivity, especially about the problems of loving and coping with older relatives."

~The Times-Picayune

"Riveting plot, terrifying premise..."

~Tami Hoag, NYT Bestselling Author of DOWN THE DARKEST ROAD

"Eileen Dreyer knocks readers off their feet with wit and dark humor. You won't forget the power, pain and moral ambiguity of this incredible novel."

~Romantic Times

"There is an old forensic saying: "Never say never and never say always." But when Eileen Dreyer writes about forensics and mysteries, the result is always highly entertaining and always forensically correct!"

~Mary Case, Medical Examiner St. Louis County

"This book climbs and spins and wheels and drop-rockets along... Readers are likely to feel dizzy for a spell."

~St. Louis Post Dispatch

Published by ePublishing Works!

www.epublishingworks.com

ISBN: 978-1-61417-351-9

By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this eBook. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of copyright owner.

Please Note

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

The reverse engineering, uploading, and/or distributing of this eBook via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

Copyright © 1997, 2012 by Eileen Dreyer. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

eBook design by eBook Prep www.ebookprep.com

Thank You.

I have had the rare privilege to know some singular, rare Irish characters in my life: Grandpa Dunne; Uncle Bill; both Uncle Eddies; Uncle Tom; Uncle Joe; Pa Quinn; Uncle Fal; Uncle Jimmy; Chris King, who taught me the forbidden verses of Irish songs; Sean O'Driscoll in his enchanted castle; and my mother, Dode Dunne Helm, whom I will always remember laughing. When each of you left, the world lost a little magic we'll never see again. I hope you don't mind that I've woven bits of you into the warp and weave of Joe Leary.

The lions of the hills are gone.

It is always with the best intentions that

the worst work is done.

~ Oscar Wilde, "Intentions," 1891

Acknowledgments

Once again, I would like to thank the people who gave so graciously of their time and talent to help me with this book:

Dr. Mary Case and Mary Fran Ernst of the St. Louis County Medical Examiner's Office; John Maguire of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Virginia Lynch and the International Association of Forensic Nurses; everyone at the Alzheimer Association of St. Louis, especially Joan McKinnick; Harvey Kerr of USC-Los Angeles County Medical Center; Betty Jordan of the Chicago Police Department; Steffie Walker, dear friend and spokesperson for her people; John Podolak of the St. Louis Police Department and his wife, Michelle, for proofreading; and, of course, to the best editor in the business, Carolyn Marino, who makes me work so hard.

The mistakes, as usual, are mine—or, if you'd like, dramatic license.

My thanks also to the Divas for support above and beyond the call, especially Tami Hoag for dealing with all this first and Karyn Witmer-Gow for judicious butt-kicking. And, of course, Rick and the kids for putting up with endless Chinese and much-too-enthusiastic discussions about the effects of arson.

A final note about geography. Neither Puckett nor Puckett County exist. With apologies to Washington, Missouri, which I blithely moved down the river a ways, I squeezed in Puckett to provide me with a county without an adequate coroner's system that close to St. Louis. Hope you guys don't mind.

Prologue

The angel of death came at dawn. It wasn't the usual time for the angel to make its appearance; the old man knew that. He was familiar with the breed. He'd seen them hover in the fetid midnight of a jungle, heard their sly rustle at 3 a.m. in the alleys that crooked away from taxi stands like spider legs in the cold night air. He'd fought off a few and given one or two a knowing nod. He'd danced one step ahead of them for some seventy-eight years, and he wasn't in the mood to let this one catch up with him now.

Especially not here.

It was too clean here, too impersonal. The old man wanted to meet this angel on his feet, head up, eyes wide open, in the kind of place he'd always fought his fights. He wanted the chance to beat it back just one more time before giving in to the inevitable.

Go gentle, my ass, he thought, curling his bent, broken fingers into fists beyond the wrist straps that made him impotent and old.

"My name is Butch Cleveland," he rasped with a voice ruined by beer, cigarettes, and parade grounds. "United States Marine Corps. Serial number 3124456. And that's all you're getting from me, you son of a bitch."

"I'm sorry," the angel said, bending over him.

It shouldn't be at dawn, Butch thought, squirming to get away when there was, ultimately, no place to go.

Not when the sun finally showed up. Death belongs in the night, deep in the dark hours of dreams and terrors, when sappers break the fences and two-dollar fares carry automatics. The dawn brings redemption. The sun means promise. Hope. Another night overcome.