A/N: My short story project for creative writing. So, it is, uhm, short. Hope you like it! Read, enjoy, review if the notion strikes ya!
WARNING: Character death. If I get enough feedback, however, I might be coerced into writing an alternate ending...
Disclaimer: Considering I was born the year season one started airing, I'm pretty sure I don't own DM.
Murderous Intentions
I didn't want to kill the doctor; I really didn't. I had always despised killers, but it simply couldn't be helped. And I knew the cops would never be able to trace the murder back to me, so why not? I had, after all, nothing to lose and everything to gain. No one would ever suspect someone in such a high standing – especially when the victim was one of my own colleagues.
No, they would never suspect me. No one ever would. A respected doctor, smelling of Aromis after-shave and wearing one of many $40 silk ties, couldn't possibly be the culprit. Far too innocent for such an innocuous crime.
They would never be able to trace the hit-and-run accident to my sleek, shiny Mercedes Benz, either, even if they did suspect me. Little damage had been inflicted to the hood, and I'd had it fixed immediately after. And the solid-gold cigarette case I 'dropped' at the scene was sure to help my case – I don't smoke after all.
No, I was certain no one would ever connect me to the crime. Just like no one would ever know that I read Playboy in my spare time. No one needs to know such things, after all.
Who am I? My name is Carl Sandburg, MD.
That's right, I'm a medical doctor. That means I save lives, not take them. But, as I've said before, it simply couldn't be helped. He knew too much.
And that is why Dr. Jesse Travis had to die.
Jesse Travis whistled to himself, twirling his keys around one finger as he headed for the hospital doors. His shift had just ended, and he was looking forward to catching a few waves off the Malibu coast with his best friend. "Bye, Dr. Sloan!" he called to his superior.
"See you tomorrow, Jess!" the older doctor returned good-naturedly.
A minute later saw the young intern unlocking his car in the garage; twenty saw him cruising into a parking space in front of the apartment building where he lived. As he entered, a heat wave hit him from the inside. "Great," he mumbled. "The AC is out again. Good thing I've got a couple fans…" He unlocked the door and stepped in. "Now… Just gotta grab a few things and then I can enjoy the AC in my car all the way to Malibu…"
Unfortunately, I didn't count on Dr. Mark Sloan finding Travis in the parking garage – well, at least on finding him while he could still be rescued. In the end, all that staged accident got me was having him stuck in a hospital bed for a few weeks. He eventually recovered, and I still had a problem on my hands. A new plan had to be formed then, and this one could not fail.
Being the intelligent man that I am, I waited a month before trying again. That way the trail would have gone cold on the hit-and-run, and enough time had passed that everyone's guard would have been let down before my next strike. Yet this still posed to be a problem; leaving him a month to recover also left him a month to discover more of my schemes and gave him more opportunities to rat me out. I must admit I was surprised that he never said a word to anyone about it. I even started to consider that perhaps he didn't know anything as he had insisted when I had first confronted him. But then, of course, I decided he could have been deceiving me in order to gain more knowledge. No, I decided, I would still dispose of him. I was not about to let an intern from Minnesota ruin my hard-earned career.
Jesse shoved his surf board into the hot sand, collapsing into a beach chair next to it. "Oh, man! Talk about the perfect day to be out here!"
Steve laughed, sinking into another chair. "I couldn't agree more!"
The two went silent, bathing in the setting sun's warm rays after having been in the icy water of the ocean for the last hour or so. Jesse let out a sigh, glancing at his watch. "Guess I should get going. I've gotta work early again tomorrow." He stood, Steve following suit. The two would-be brothers headed up the beach. When they reached the deck steps, Jesse called out, "Later, Steve."
"Later, Jess," Steve returned, heading up the steps.
Opting to take in the cooler air of the evening, Jesse went around to the front of the house where his car was parked instead of going through the beach house. A minute later he was headed back down the coastal highway on his way back to an insanely hot apartment.
It was simple. All I had to do was break into Travis's apartment and wait for him to return. I didn't know how long that would take, but I would wait forever if I had to. I couldn't take the risk that he really did know what I was up to – the threat would end here and now. And he wouldn't suffer at all; more than likely, he wouldn't even know what hit him. A bullet through the heart – that was all it was going to take, and I would be home free. No one would bother to investigate, of that I had made certain. There's nothing to investigate in a suicide after all. The gun would be found in his grip with only his finger prints; I had even registered it in his name thanks to a friend of mine. The note was there, as well, sitting in plain sight on the countertop of the kitchenette. I had left nothing to chance this time. Jesse Travis had no chance.
"Thank God," Jesse muttered as a wave of cool air assaulted him as he entered the building. "They fixed the AC!" He ascended the stairs to the third floor, pulling out his keys as he reached the landing. Reaching for the door knob, he froze. As he bent down, his suspicions were confirmed: Someone had broken into his apartment by the look of the jimmy marks around the lock. He backed up into the stairwell, the door falling closed behind him. Pulling out his cell phone, he quickly dialed his friend's number. "Steve? Jesse. Someone broke into my apartment… Are you nuts? Of course I didn't go in! The guy could still be in there for all I know... Yeah, okay, I'll wait for you in the stairwell… Bye."
Five minutes passed, then ten. By the time fifteen minutes had gone by, Jesse was going crazy. Driven by his natural curiosity, he simply couldn't wait for Steve any longer. He crept out of the stairwell and towards his apartment door. A gut feeling told him he really shouldn't be doing this, but he pushed the feeling aside and turned the knob anyway. Stepping inside, he was immediately met with a familiar face. "Dr. Sandburg. What -?"
"Ah, I was wondering when you were finally going to show up so I could finish what I started." Jesse's eyes widened. "I see you've just realized that the hit-and-run was a little more intentional than your little friends thought – and you would be correct. I'm afraid, Dr. Travis, that you simply know too much for your own good. I'm terribly sorry it had to come to this." He whipped out a gun.
"I-I don't understand what you're talking about!"
"Heh. I'm so sure," he replied sarcastically. "And that's why I'm about to shoot you."
"Don't I at least get to know why?" Jesse stalled. 'C'mon, Steve! Hurry up!'
He paused, considering this. "I suppose it's only fair, even though you already know why. About a month ago you walked in on me in the lounge, looking over some records. Ring any bells yet? … No? They were receipts, Jesse, receipts for drugs."
"I still don't get it," he stalled. 'Where are you, Steve?'
"How in the world did you ever make it through medical school? If it's not obvious, then I'm certainly not going to spell it out for you, and you can die in your ignorance. Goodbye, Jesse Travis."
And then he pulled the trigger.
And that was where the cops found me a split-second after – standing over Travis's body, gun still in hand. I don't regret pulling that trigger, I really don't. If I hadn't after all, I still would have gone to prison for the rest of my life for drug smuggling. Drug smuggling… Murder… Either way, I was a doomed man after Travis found out about the former.
So, you see, I really didn't have a choice in the matter. I had nothing to lose – since either way I could have gone to prison, and everything to gain – since if I had managed to succeed no one would have ever known. Jesse brought this on himself, after all. He knew too much.
That was why Dr. Jesse Travis had to die.