Blackout: The Julian Thomas Chronicles

By H. Eugene

John Burroughs is living the prototypical dream: A beautiful home, a beautiful and ambitious wife, and a burgeoning career. One night, he blacks out. Now, he can add murderer to his resume, but why did he do it?

In the first book of the Julian Thomas Chronicles, Julian races against time to clear his best friend's name or help convict him.

Little does Julian know his involvement, in this case, is much deeper and dangerous than he understands.

• Language: English
• Publisher: H. Eugene
• Release date: Nov 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781724043016

H. Eugene

H. Eugene is: A writer, author, video game player, sushi/pizza/burger junkie, powerlifter, wannabe Captain America, wannabe bowler, and father of three. He was born, raised, and still resides in the city of Detroit. Outside of writing, his career has span 25+ years in various facets of the customer service industry. His penchant for writing developed at a very early age, as he began writing stories while he attended middle school. After winning two first place prizes for poetry in high school, the fuse was lit. He hopes that through his writing, he can reach and affect many. What you will find in his books is a renewed and fresh perspective of storytelling. For more information, please visit his website www.InkThriller.com

Book preview

Prologue

The outside light dominates the elegant bedroom. A well-dressed man stands in front of a full-sized floor mirror. His hair is crisp. His face is clean-shaven. His monogrammed light-blue dress shirt is perfect, even without the tie. He is successful and confident. His smile creates inspiration, but it’s changing right before his eyes. He sees a message on his phone as he removes it from the dresser next to him. It completely changes his disposition. There is no more inspiration... there’s only rage.

You stupid bitch, the man started yelling into the mirror. It was as if the person he saw was the one that was heating up his blood. I have busted my ass and made too many sacrifices for you to come along and think you can fuck it up. I am too important, and I have way too much to do to be worrying about someone who no longer means a damn thing to me. Where there is smoke, there is fire. I hope you can smell it, because I’m going to burn your ass up with it. You want to force my hand? The same hand that has made you millions of dollars? Well you will feel it... while I’m crushing your life away from you through your throat.

Chapter One

Covert Ops

December 20th, 2015

It's a ripe day at Bakers Keyboard Lounge in Detroit. It's known as the oldest jazz club in America, though some might dispute that claim. Since 1934 this club has seen much of the top jazz talent from around the world play here. The lounge was not only famous for its music, it was also well known for its menu.

The low-key nature of this club makes it a favorite place to meet for lunch by many area business executives. These walls had seen its share of deals getting done. Today would be no exception.

Three men, who walked in together 40 minutes earlier, had finished eating their lunch. One of the men took out a slew of files and placed them on the table. It was time for business.

Harold, I made a statement to you before you left the department and I still stand by it today, Chief Earl Sims said. You are one of the finest detectives I have ever worked with. No one in our department has had the success that you had with solving our cold cases.

Chief Sims, you are far too kind, Harold replied.

Harold Thomas was a member of the Detroit Police Department for over 10 years before he decided to leave and open his own private detective agency. He amassed a dizzying record of solving the most complex crimes at the department. Most notably, cold cases.

I’m not being kind, Harold, I’m stating facts.

Yeah, I have to agree with the chief, Lieutenant Mays added. That’s why we wanted to talk to you today.

Harold, take a look at some of these files, the chief requested. There are 33 of them and they all share the same theme."

Harold started flipping through the first half dozen files. Are all these cold cases?

Yes, they are. The chief remarked. We need your help.

My help!? I’m sure you’re about to give me some details, so I’ll just listen.

Harold, the chief continued, In January the hammer is going to drop on the entire department. We’re about to have the squeeze put on us budget wise. That lawsuit settlement earlier this year put the kibosh on many of the new initiatives. That includes the ones we earmarked for our detectives. Cap that off with an uncaught serial killer and 30 other open cases. Oh, and I should mention that half of those 30 cases are making the national news. Our resources are tapped out right now. I’ve already talked to the mayor about my plan.

Let me guess, the plan has to do with these 33 cold case files, right?

They do indeed. I would like to enlist your help to get them closed. I mentioned the mayor knows about my plan because he’s getting pressure. And, I mean lots of it to bring a resolution to them.

But many of these cases are old. Who would be pressuring him?

About a year ago, the Free Press ran a story about unsolved crimes. It didn’t portray our department in the best light. On top of that, six of those cases are from some very influential donors to our city. It’s a black eye that needs to go away. With that said, there is a financial component with solving each case. You’ll find those details behind the last page of each file. We would be able to give you expanded access to records and archives that you lost when you left the department. Due to the sensitivity of this request, there are only a select group of individuals that know about it. If you could do this, I would consider it a personal favor. The department would be in your debt.

Chief, you and the department will never be in my debt. If it weren’t for the department, I wouldn’t be where I am now. My workload is steady, but I’m confident these cases can be added with no problem. What’s the timeframe?

Yesterday!

Somehow, I already knew that would be the answer. I’ll start putting together my framework tomorrow.

You have no idea what this means to us. Let me or the lieutenant know what resources you need. Say, how’s Julian doing? Is he ready to dive in full-time?

He’s doing well. He’ll be graduating next spring. I’m not sure if he has his heart set on the agency. The FBI is calling his name.

Well, whatever he does, I know you’re going to have him prepared.

CHAPTER Two

Fresh Face

It was the summer of 2016, but this day was dreary. For Julian, even if he wished today was a dream, it could only count as a nightmare. After taking a deep, calming breath, he still couldn’t tear his hand off the letter. He held it tightly in his shaking right hand. Three years of hard work and dedication had finally pay off. His eyes scanned the wording that he still couldn’t believe.

Dear Mr. Thomas,

Welcome to the FBI and congratulations on accepting a conditional job offer for employment. We judiciously seek employees with your expertise, character, and dedication to fulfill our mission to the nation. The FBI holds high expectations for each employee. We uphold and enforce the criminal laws of the United States. We also provide leadership and criminal justice services to various branches and agencies. Our spirit and integrity are unwavering and steadfast.

Julian read the rest of the letter. Gratitude contrasted with disappointment washed over him. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was drowning on dry land. How could the best day of his life hit him with such hesitance and sadness? Forgetting that he was inside a clothing store, the sound of a soft woman’s voice interrupted his trance.

He folded the letter quickly and stuffed it inside his blazer. He turned his attention back to the saleswoman who had been assisting him.

Sir, I’m sorry it took me so long, but I knew we had the perfect tie in the back for the suit you picked out.

As she held up the yellow and gray tie, he did his best to keep his composure. He felt like his knees would buckle at any moment.

No worries. You didn’t have to go through all the trouble, but I’m glad you did.

He took the tie from her and smiled. He knew his dad was going to look great with what he had picked out. His dad, Harold Thomas, was always his number one best friend. He always found a way to elevate everyone around him, especially Julian. Though, a difficult decision for layers of reasons, he knew what he had to do.

After leaving the clothing store, he went straight to Henry Ford Hospital. As he turned into the parking structure, his stomach was in knots. This was the same drive he had been taking for the past month, but today he felt sick to his stomach. A lot was changing around him. No matter how much he prepared for the changes, his mind tried to reject what was going to be his reality. His career was being born while the man who brought him into the world was slowly dying each day.

His dad was also his hero. Growing up, all his friends thought his dad was the coolest. After spending years as a Detroit Police Officer, Mr. Thomas opened his own practice and became a private investigator. He quickly took Julian under this wing and taught him everything he knew. Although he loved the fast pace and working with his dad, he always knew his calling was becoming an FBI agent.

As he walked through the halls in route to his dad’s room, the smell of sickness engulfed him. Under any other circumstances, he would have been elated to tell him his good news. But, this posed a completely different scenario. There was no way he was going to turn his back on the one person that had always had his. The FBI would have to wait.

Hey pops. He said as cheerfully as he could muster while walking into his room.

His dad’s once muscular frame had now yielded to nothing more than a whisper of what he once was. His trademark dimples where lost in his hollowed-out cheeks. His skin was dark and leathery.

Julian. How are you doing son? What’s new today? He said in a whisper. It was as loud as he could talk.

Julian felt his FBI offer letter gently creasing his shirt from his inside jacket pocket. He smiled. Nothing dad, nothing new today. Well, I take that back. Mrs. Morrissey came by today. She said she was going to come and see you on Friday and bring you a special package. She brought me and Edith ours today.

Oh, I know all about that special package. That woman’s chocolate chip cookies should be illegal. I have never in my life had cookies so good.

Trust me dad, I know. Well, I didn’t want you to wait till Friday, so I brought you a couple of them.

His dad smiled as wide as his mouth would allow him to.

So, I’ve been thinking. The agency should stay Thomas and Associates. I don’t think it could be called anything else. There’s a lot of blood and sweat behind that name, right dad?

Keeping it in our name!? Wait, you’re going to...... Is this what you want?

"Yes dad! It exactly what I