Shattered Life (A Cooper Trace FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 2)

By Ella Swift

When a killer weaponizes hypnosis, FBI Agent Cooper Trace finds himself within a labyrinth of psychological warfare. But can he stay a step ahead as he battles new symptoms of his own disease?

SHATTERED LIFE (A Cooper Trace FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 2) is the second novel in a new series by mystery and suspense author Ella Swift. The series begins with SHATTERED MIND (Book 1).

The Cooper Trace series is a gripping and intense crime thriller saga, showcasing an intricate and troubled protagonist. With its non-stop action, suspenseful moments, unexpected turns, and fast-paced narrative, this series will have you hooked well into the night. Fans of Robert Dugoni, Mary Burton, and Rachel Caine are sure to fall in love.

Future books in the series are also available!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ella Swift
• Release date: Apr 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9781094384320

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SHATTERED LIFE

(A Cooper Trace Suspense Thriller —Book 2)

Ella Swift

Ella Swift

Ella Swift is author of the PEYTON RISK mystery series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the new COOPER TRACE mystery series, comprising five books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Ella loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit ellaswiftauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2024 by Ella Swift. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

BOOKS BY ELLA SWIFT

PEYTON RISK MYSTERY SERIES

WHAT’S HIS (Book #1)

WHAT’S LEFT (Book #2)

WHAT’S WISHED (Book #3)

WHAT’S GONE (Book #4)

WHAT’S MINE (Book #5)

COOPER TRACE MYSTERY SERIES

SHATTERED MIND (Book #1)

SHATTERED LIFE (Book #2)

SHATTERED HOPE (Book #3)

SHATTERED DREAM (Book #4)

SHATTERED FATE (Book #5)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Megan Fitzpatrick sighed loudly as she entered her apartment, the darkness erased by the bright light from the hallway bulb as she flicked the switch. She made another mental note to switch the bulb for something softer, but there were other changes to be made in her life first.

She tossed her bag full of important documents onto the mahogany table and felt some of the weight lessen on her shoulders. A minute later, she had her shoes off, and a glass of wine poured—Megan looked down at the glass of wine and shook her head. She moved it to the kitchen counter with the intent of drinking it after if needed. She didn't need to rely on anything other than herself.

She repeated that over and over.

I can rely on myself, and I will help myself.

Megan turned on the lamp in the sitting room before turning off the harsh light in the hall. She checked her watch—he would arrive soon, and it made her nervous. She should not be nervous; there was no need to be nervous about anyone. She had fought confidently in the courthouse earlier that day and knew they were winning the case. She had confidence in her ability to command a courtroom but had little confidence in herself outside of work.

Megan closed the curtains, shutting out the outside world, and sat on the dining chair she had brought through from the kitchen. It was not as comfortable as the armchair, but it helped her with her posture. The MP3 player was turned on, and soothing nature sounds filled the room from the speaker dock. Megan sat down and willed her body to relax.

She rolled her shoulders and stretched her back, moving her feet into a comfortable position on the floor. She was ready. The self-guided meditation started with staring at a fixed point on the wall and focusing only on breathing.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

Megan repeated the words in her mind over and over. It was the seventh day of following the script he had given her, and she didn't need to refer to it anymore. Megan closed her eyes, scanning her body from toe to head, calming each part until all the stress and tension were removed. She imagined herself on a golden beach, lying where the small waves washed over the sand.

The water was warm as it flowed over her, first only covering her toes and then working its way up with each ebb and flow until the warm water covered her body, embracing her in protection. The sun beat down and was warm; birds chirped above; the sky was blue and cloudless.

I am calm and at peace. I will thrive in my life. I have no enemies except the ones which live within me. I place my trust in others so they can place their trust in me.

Megan repeated the phrases over and over, giving each of them the time and consideration they deserved—not only saying them but believing them. She spoke slowly and evenly, not quick or forceful as in court. A sense of calm and confidence washed over her like waves lapping the imaginary beach.

The stress of the day slipped away, and Megan felt more like herself—or more like the person she wanted to become. She did not need the wine or anything else to take away the weight she held.

A weight of my own creation.

Megan smiled as she brought herself out of her self-induced meditative state. The stars must have aligned because she heard the soft knock at the door as she came fully out of her self-hypnosis.

With newfound self-awareness, Megan walked to the door with her head held high and shoulders back. It never hurt to be careful, and she looked through the peephole to see the familiar face. She opened it and welcomed Dr. Covington.

I wasn’t sure if you would come, Megan said.

Don't do that, Dr. Covington warned. Do not project your insecurities onto me, okay?

Megan looked down and pursed her lips.

And don't retreat into your shell. What have you been working on? Dr. Covington asked.

Confidence and self-assurance, Megan responded.

Then answer with confidence and self-assurance, the doctor said as he closed the door behind himself. Why don't you try again? What have you been working on?

This time, Megan pushed her shoulders back and took a breath. Confidence and self-assurance.

Good, Dr. Covington replied. How about you return to your relaxed state, and our true work can begin.

Would you like anything before we start? Megan asked.

No, that will not be necessary, the doctor said.

Megan nodded and went back to the chair close to the window. She sat down, a little nervous now that Dr. Covington was there, and went through the steps again to put herself into the relaxed state. It took a little longer, but she was soon on the warm beach with the calming waves lapping her feet.

Where are you? Dr. Covington asked softly.

A beach, Megan answered.

A happy place, the doctor said. You are safe there, and nothing and no one can hurt you. What do you want from your life?

Control, Megan replied.

You need to lose control before you can gain control. Are you willing to do that?

Yes. Megan felt his calming influence surround her. She could not see him, but she felt him stand behind her. She reminded herself to breathe slowly and evenly.

You will feel a touch, the doctor said. It was followed a moment later by a pressure on her shoulders. You are safe. Repeat that, Megan. I am safe.

I am safe, she repeated. I am safe.

You will gain confidence, the doctor said. A tingling sensation ran down her right arm as if he had pricked her ever so gently with a needle.

I will gain confidence, she repeated.

You will gain control. Another tingle—this time, down her right arm.

I will gain control.

You will escape what has held you back, Dr. Covington said.

I will escape what has held me back.

Dr. Coving spoke to her in long, winding sentences that settled her heart and calmed her mind but bounced from her memory like the seeds of the cottonwood trees blowing against windows in the summer breeze.

A slight pain in her neck, but she stilled herself and did not react. The pressure on her shoulders was removed.

Megan felt an overwhelming sense of peace that had never come from her own meditations. She wanted to smile but could not move from her heightened state of relaxation. She could feel the change coming and knew her life would forever be different.

You may open your eyes now, Dr. Covington said.

Megan slowly opened them, emerging from a sleepy dream state. It was wonderful. She had never felt a peace like it and knew she would feel this way forever. It was welcome, wanted, wondrous. The world swam around her with colors she had not discovered before. When she breathed in, the aroma was delicious. Her skin tingled, experiencing all life simultaneously.

Dr. Covington swayed before her, almost splitting into two separate doctors but snapping back together when she focused. He held a syringe in his hand, but that was of no consequence to Megan—nothing was of any consequence any longer.

You have the control you desire, Dr. Covington said softly as if whispering it from the next room. Do you feel the control?

Yes, Megan replied. She had no control, but she did not need control anymore; she only needed the feeling that he had implanted in her.

When Dr. Covington picked her up, it was the warmest embrace she had encountered. He moved her around the room and then moved himself around the room, doing something.

Am I going to die? Megan asked.

Yes, Dr. Covington replied.

Megan nodded. She had never wanted to die, but that was before she understood how good it felt. If this were death, she would not mind dying again and again and again. Everything was slow and fast at the same time. And then it came.

Megan stared at the door ahead of her, and she could not hear a thing. She had no idea if Dr. Covington was still in the room—she did not need him anymore to feel confident.

Her eyelids became heavy, and she sighed happily as she slipped into death.

CHAPTER ONE

Cooper parked his rental vehicle and stared at his childhood home. He thought he saw movement in one of the front windows, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. His father knew he was coming and would have heard the vehicle approach, but he was too proud to make a big deal of it and welcome back his son. Cooper had inherited the same pride along with his father’s chestnut eyes.

He got out of his vehicle and made for the front door of the ranch house.

Over two and a half decades since he had lived there. Cooper had made the occasional visit back, but never for very long. He planned to stay a week this time to follow up on his sister’s disappearance from when he was eighteen.

Everything was the same but different. It smelled the same. The ranch looked the same—a lick of paint here and there, but always the same color. The grass out front was always trimmed regularly; the only change was the rise and fall of corn and wheat during the year and a few new calves in the spring.

He had gone out every night from the night his sister disappeared to the night he left home, always returning and letting his bicycle fall to the grass before storming past his father waiting on the porch, slamming the door when he went inside. His father was a stern man, and Cooper was often punished for wrongdoing, but he was never punished for that. As he walked to the house, this time, it felt like a twenty-six-year search through his mind for his sister before returning home.

His father was not waiting to greet him on the porch, and Cooper did not slam the unlocked door when he entered.

He found his father inside the house, standing in the middle of the sitting room, hesitant to make the first move.

How was the flight? his father asked. He looked older, his skin stretched out more.

Yeah, it was fine, Cooper replied. He prided himself on reading people, but he had never been able to read his father.

Do you need something to drink? Archibald Trace asked. He had grayed a lot over the past year, and his hair was thinning on the top.

Cooper instinctually ran his hand through his thick brown hair, seeing a glimpse of his future. His father still had physical strength, gained through years of working the ranch, and Cooper had similar strength from boxing in the gym most days.

Maybe later, Cooper replied. I want to go to the Lookout.

Yeah, his father replied, turning away so Cooper could not see his expression.

You don't approve? Cooper asked. He shouldn’t have gotten so annoyed so easily, but the emotions surged, and below his feelings, the symptoms of Lindof Syndrome made themselves known.

You think you’ll find a clue there that’s been missed for twenty years?

Cooper tried to keep calm. There was no accusation or insinuation, but his father made him feel like he had failed. Cooper knew his father had tried to find Alison, but he had given up after three months of nothing. Cooper had continued searching every night and found nothing. If he had given up sooner, he might not have felt he had failed.

You can't fail if you don't try.

I’m going out, Cooper said.

His father turned back to him. You don't have to do that. Can you at least stay a while first?

I’m here for a week, Cooper said.

I know, but it’s been… I don't want to fight.

Cooper didn't want to fight either, but he could feel the symptoms coming on. Lindof Syndrome was a death curse. Early onset Alzheimers that should take years to kick in but was triggered by added stress. And there was added stress everywhere he went—when he was not catching killers, he was thinking about his missing sister. Gone without a trace and never heard from again.

He had almost lost a killer two weeks previous when his body threatened to shut down. He would eventually lose control of his body and mind, and the added stress would exacerbate that. He could stave off the syndrome by eating well, exercising, and getting enough rest, but it felt like a losing battle when he had so much stress in his life.

Cooper needed to find his sister before Lindof Syndrome took over, and the stress of finding her didn't help. Neither did the fact that