Free Twist (Book 1): The Abnorm Chronicles-Twist by Kevin J. Anderson

It would have to be later. She began calling her patients and reorganizing her day as she walked out to her car.

Chapter 17
     
    Cooper trudged up the stairs of the Lion’s Regency Apartments, flight after flight. He felt Denver’s high altitude and thin air with every step. Why was a paraplegic living on the top floor of a building with a broken elevator?
    T he building was probably constructed in the 1960s. Beige paint that had, at one point, been another color chipped from the walls, and the trim had rotted away at least a decade previously. Typical Section 8 housing. The nonfunctioning elevator was probably not the only thing wrong with the place.
    He plodded up to the top floor and paused at the stairwell door, caught his breath, and emerged into the hallway. He saw a line of identical, unwelcoming doors along the corridor, a closed “Roof Access” door at the end. Dr. Wolverton was waiting in front of apartment 707.
    In a snapshot, he assessed the therapist. She was a decade older than Cooper and dressed in casual clothing. Wavy red hair spilled across her shoulders and halfway down her back. She was a few inches shorter than he was, but her confident body language added to her stature.
    Cooper thrust out his hand and introduced himself. He gave her an affable smile. “Again, I appreciate you doing this favor for me. If Mr. Lee can recount what he saw, it’ll help the case enormously and could save lives.”
    She nodded, though she remained skeptical. “Adam says he didn’t see anything, and he has no reason to withhold information. He felt an attachment to the murdered girl.”
    “ Still, I need to give this a shot. There have been four murders, and he’s the only witness.” He narrowed his eyes. “I reviewed his DAR file. His ability seems like it could be helpful to the case.”
    “We can try. I already told Adam you were coming to talk to him.” She opened the door. “Adam—we’re coming in.”
    When he entered the apartment, Cooper immediately got an overwhelming sense of who Adam Lee was. His own abilities as a Brilliant painted a picture more nuanced than the surface of what he saw. The front room was stark, both in decoration and function—hardwood floors, almost no furniture—which made the place seem more spacious than it was, and allowed room for the wheelchair to move. Bookshelves clung to the walls like rock climbers on a windy cliff. He noted a mixture of paperback novels, comics, and baseball paraphernalia, mostly on low shelves.
    M any people would have missed the wear pattern in the wax on the hardwood, but Cooper spotted it immediately. The slow erosion of wheels on the floor had left barely perceptible grooves from window to kitchen, window to bedroom, and window to bathroom. The details clicked into place: this man’s life centered entirely around the window, his only portal to the outside world.
    Adam Lee sat in his chair, and he did not turn as they entered. He stared out the window, palm of his splayed left hand pressed against the warm glass. Even with Adam’s face turned away, Cooper spotted that his cheeks were moist and his eyes rimmed red.
    Adam’s face looked exactly like the photos in his service files, strong chiseled features and close-cropped blond hair. The only difference from the military file photos was a scar that stretched across the back of his neck. He was . . . disproportionate. The paralysis of his legs and right arm had forced the muscles in the left half of his torso to overcompensate. Atrophying portions of his body seemed to droop, but the left arm and shoulder were obviously tough.
    Cooper stopped by the lone padded chair and coffee table. “Mr. Lee, thank you for taking the time to see me today.”
    “I didn’t consent to anything,” Adam said. His hand never moved.
    Ingrid Wolverton laid a hand on his shoulder. “Adam, this is important. You need to tell Agent Cooper anything that could help the case.”
    Cooper looked around the apartment. The