Better Late Than Stupid: The Dominic Wolfe Tales, #4

By Lincoln Chase

Hidden in the shadows of Dominic Wolfe's home town of Kansas City, a phantom widow is raking up millions of dollars and leaving a trail of bodies in her wake. Meanwhile, men, women and children have quietly converged by the hundreds on an abandoned oil rig off the gulf coast of Florida.

 

What's the common denominator? 

 

Pfft. Who gives a crap? 

 

Dominic could think of a million things he'd rather do than play detective—stick his fingers in a fan, for example; break-dance in a pile of broken glass, or perhaps eat tofu—but as usual, the universe has other plans. Deep in the recesses of the divide, you see, something is stirring—a strange portal that has the entire realm on edge.

 

Still, if Alexis and her little sister Ellie hadn't disappeared, Dominic might've found a way to ignore the whole situation. Under the circumstances, though, he has no choice but to run headlong into a storm of calculated deception—one that might just pit him against the people he cares about the most.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Design Vault Press, LLC
• Release date: Feb 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386876984

Lincoln Chase

Lincoln Chase is a fiction writer and stay-at-home dad. He loves books, movies, coffee and the occasional cat-video binge on YouTube. In his spare time, he--wait... what the hell is spare time? Okay, if Lincoln had spare time, he would undoubtedly enjoy baking cookies, long walks on a beach and driving a car with more than one hubcap.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Rage is a funny thing; it doesn’t care if you make a fool of yourself in the middle of Target, like when they ran out of Hatchimals the day before your niece’s birthday party. Nor does it give a rat’s ass if you embarrass your friends and family over a forty-five-minute wait at the Olive Garden. Given enough of it, rage might even get you killed. Or someone else.

Me? I didn’t give a shit about any of that.

With all my might, I leapt into the air; I rose far above the mist, unleashing a war cry that sent a tremor through the entire divide. Down I streaked, hurling into Kileal like a cannon ball.

The much larger man—

Wait, wait—what was that? Last you heard, I was Kileal? Damn, dude. You been living under a rock?

Sigh.

Tell you what: how about you whip me up a Berry Cosmo—don’t forget the umbrella—and kick back while I fill you in. But I should probably warn you: things are about to get all kinds of crazy.

Chapter 1

Not gonna lie, Dom. You’ve looked better.

Is it the hair? I’m trying something different.

Otto smirked, peering up at me from the mist. Even towering two stories above my old friend, it was hard to overlook the melancholy in his smile.

You stuck like that forever? he asked. I’ve lived in buildings smaller than you.

Good question. I’d spent a fair amount of time trying to cough up an answer myself. For now, I could only shrug.

What about Meredith? he wanted to know. I mean, didn’t you two just reconnect?

Nodding, I dropped to one knee. No sense giving my best friend a crick in the neck. I’m guessing she might not approve of the new me. Things could get a little complicated in the bedroom, know what I’m saying?

Otto’s expression curdled. Damn, dude. Coulda done without that image.

I laughed long and hard, and then grew serious. I don’t suppose you can talk to her for me?

Don’t see why not.

Good. She needs to move on, if she hasn’t already. Shouldn’t be that hard, really; we’d only been on one date, and the night had ended with me splattered all over the road.

With a somber frown, Otto nodded.

What about Ellie? Even now, as a completely new creature—a towering monolith of toughened flesh—my heart lurched at the thought of her. My sweet little girl. And Alexis?

They’re fine. He smiled sadly, knowingly. Ellie misses you, though. She’s having a hard time.

That made two of us.

Listen, Dom. Your detective friend…

Slade?

Yeah. He wants to know what he should do with your body. So far he’s managed to keep you on ice, but he’s on borrowed time.

Grimacing, I heaved a giant sigh—giant even by giant standards. See if he’s got a deep freezer or something.

You think he wants to roll you over every time he gets a hankering for steak?

I see your point. Maybe he can reach out to Maximus for help. I smiled at the thought. It might do the two of them good to bond over my corpse.

I thought he didn’t want anything to do with you?

Yeah, well that was before I landed on team Slade.

Otto frowned. Yeah, okay. Maybe. He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes glistening. You gotta come back, man. The world ain’t the same without you.

You can visit anytime you want, Otto.

He chewed his lip and looked away. Nah, man. Not really.

There was no need for clarification; I could sense the deeper meaning in him. Because I’m not the same person.

A faint nod. You’re Kileal now.

What’s in a name? I’m still me, Otto. I’m just… more.

You’re more Kileal than Dominic, man. You see that, don’t you?

I did, even if I chose not to acknowledge it now. I changed the subject. I’m sorry about Natalie, Otto. I know how much you cared about her.

Yeah. Me too.

I can feel her, you know. She’s at peace.

A tear crawled down Otto’s cheek and he flashed a bitter smile. Better go, Dom. Got some errands to attend to.

I wished I could give him comfort, the same I drew from the divide. But I couldn’t; it wasn’t mine to give. Thanks, my friend, I whispered.

A split second before Otto blinked out, I felt a stirring nearby. It was Lance Stover, an older courier who wandered in a state of perpetual shame, these days. A lapse in judgment on his part had ultimately led to the death of countless couriers, not to mention my current form. I sensed his agitation, his unbridled restlessness. Hardly surprising, considering his transgressions had bound him to the divide forever.

A moment later, Lance burst into view, the mist swirling around him like a subdued hurricane.

Kileal, he said with a nod.

Hello, Lance. I took a moment to appraise him—mirror-shined shoes, designer suit. Hair perfectly combed, beard neatly trimmed. Same old debonair Lance Stover, but for one detail. His signature smile was conspicuously absent. You seem troubled, I observed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but let it snap back shut without a sound.

The divide whispered in my ear, and I nodded. You’re restless. What can I do to help?

The dapper courier flashed a strained smile. Nothing. I suppose I must’ve thought… well, it’s just that…

You thought I could relate, I finished for him. Because we’re both stuck here, yes?

Precisely.

Maybe I can help, I offered.

I can’t imagine how, Mr. Wolfe. His eyes widened at the slip. Forgive me—Kileal.

Wolfe. The name tickled at my memories, drawing a smile to my otherwise stony face. Deep in the mist, I felt Lance’s shears—cleaved instances of the courier—venturing around in search of something. Happiness? A greater meaning behind it all? Hard to say. Some had taken on lives of their own and were resigned to stay in the divide; others were desperate to become more than parts of a whole.

To explain: after transitioning into the divide, Lance Stover had done the unthinkable; he sheared into multiple entities. This was a feat few couriers had the power to perform, and one that none had the power to undo—Lance included.

Perhaps I can draw in your shears, I suggested.

Lance’s cheeks flushed. That would mean…

An end to it all? Perhaps, perhaps not.

Sadly, while the divide wasn’t governed by the same absolutes as the physical world, there were rules. Should Lance Stover reunite with his shears in the divide, the man could very well cease to exist. Or rather, become an intangible part of the divide. I’d witnessed this phenomenon twice now, most recently with my stepsister, Natalie. Lance’s circumstances differed from hers on several levels, though. And more to the point, Lance’s actions were unprecedented; naturally, the consequences were a glaring question mark.

Not exactly what I had in mind, he muttered.

There may be another option.

He cast a hopeful gaze on me.

My heart pounded with uncomfortable intensity as the words came forth. What if we were to trade places?

Trade places? But… how?

Combined with his shears, Lance had once been a powerful courier. I wondered if the divide might be persuaded to see that. To appreciate the courier’s sincerity and prowess, if not the diminishment of his power. The more important question is, are you willing to try?

Lance Stover was conflicted, I knew. He had a wife in the living world, one he missed dearly. But there was no returning to that life; he had accepted this. And even greater than his fear of moving on from the divide—into eternity, that is—was his resentment for being stuck here. I felt the discomfort of his despair like a chicken bone lodged in my throat.

You’ll feel differently once you become Kileal. That much I can promise. I wasn’t sugar-coating the situation at all, for the record. As much as part of me wanted to return to my life in the living world, another part—one of equal mass and influence—wanted desperately to remain. I was something of importance in the divide. Not only to its inhabitants, but to the very fabric of the realm itself. I was part of it, and as such, my senses were profoundly amplified here, as was an intense feeling of belonging and obligation. I was needed, a steward.

Lance swallowed visibly,