Side Effects: An FBI Psychological Thriller by Jeff Menapace Page B

reason or anything, just something typical like it wasn’t working out or whatever.”
    “How’d you get the truth out?” Morris asked. “I imagine being afraid of a tiny little dog wasn’t something he willingly shared.”
    “We were all wasted one night. Doug was hammered, and I mean hammered . So we’re all talking and we wanted to know why on earth he would dump someone like Carla. Looking back now, I guess he could have said anything, but like I said, he was wasted. So, he told us the truth. Apparently, he was attacked by a dog as a kid and it scarred him for life.”
    I looked at Morris. “Autopsy report say anything about old wounds? Bites?”
    Morris shook his head.
    “So what happened after that?” I asked Andy.
    “He didn’t remember telling us the next day. One of our roommates—John Turner—happily reminded Doug though. Happily reminded everyone . John had a serious thing for Carla.”
    “How did Doug take the news?” Morris asked.
    “He kinda closed himself off after that. He stopped hanging with us, and then eventually moved out.”
    “He was your roommate,” I said. “Didn’t you try and talk to him?”
    “We were boys, but we weren’t that close. I tried talking to him a couple of times, but he just said he didn’t want to talk about it, so…you know…” He splayed his hands as if to suggest he’d done all he could have done at the time.
    “He never suggested he was going to try and get help for his phobia?” Morris asked.
    “Not to me,” Andy said. His curious frown came suddenly back. “Does this have anything to do with him being killed?”
    “We’re still looking into that. Thank you for your time.”

CHAPTER 20
    Morris and I remained in the dean’s office after the interviews. We volleyed thoughts.
    “Pretty extreme phobia if you ask me,” I said.
    “Forsaking the hot girl on campus because of a little doggy? I’d say you’re right.”
    “We should call the boy’s home to confirm the dog-attack story with his parents. There might be more to it.”
    Morris nodded in agreement.
    “Can I see the file again?” I asked.
    He handed it to me.
    I found what I was looking for in the autopsy report. “Here,” I said. “They found both dog hair and saliva on the victim. Three different breeds. No bites.” I looked up from the file.
    “I know,” he said. “I got excited at first too when the kid said dogs. But Mags, that could have come from anywhere…strays after he was dumped.”
    “He was dumped in the trunk of a car. Were the strays in there with him?”
    “Could have been when he was being dragged to the trunk after he was dead. Dog fur is like glue. I guarantee you I’ve got a pair of pants in my closet somewhere with my sister’s dog’s hair on them.”
    “Hair and saliva? And from three different breeds?”
    “Why no bites?” Morris asked. “If he really wanted to scare him, why no bites?”
    “No idea. Maybe crowding him and licking him was enough. You ever been around an excited dog? They can get pretty unruly.”
    “Or maybe if he got dogs that would bite, our guy would have been afraid they’d kill the victim before he got his chance.”
    “Maybe.”
    Morris went quiet in thought for a moment. Then: “So, what’s the next move, hotshot?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Well, I stand by my previous statement that everyone has at least some type of phobia, but what are the odds that in a university of 15,000 students our victim just happened to have a phobia so debilitating? Your fear theory is looking more and more solid.”
    “I agree. But why are you asking me about the next move? I’m the consultant.”
    “With superhero powers and psychic dreams. Maybe we hit up another bar? You can have whiskey instead of wine this time.”
    I felt like punching him. “That’s not funny, Tim. Those dreams hurt.”
    Morris held up a hand, acknowledging that he’d crossed the line. “I’m sorry, Mags. Me asking you the next move is just my way of