Fatal Analysis
An extract from the first full-length Grant Garrick novel
1
Monday morning. My head hurt. Once more I shut off the alarm for fear the reverberating ring would shatter my skull. I remember reading somewhere about ancient cultures using sound vibrations to build and destroy structures. So, maybe, it could really happen. I was still dragged out from the weekend. I didn’t recover like I used to when I was thirty. I wanted to turn over and go back to sleep but I was already late for work.
I was a psychiatrist and had a small, private practice that once was lucrative until patients started leaving me. Normally, I was at work by eight, but today my first patient was due at eleven. The alarm clock showed nine-thirty-eight. Time to drag myself out of bed, which I did grudgingly.
