Chapter 1

At two in the morning, a SWAT team kicked down my door, their dark gun muzzles instantly trained on the center of my forehead.

"Alex Carter! You're suspected of multiple home invasion murders. Surrender now!" an officer shouted.

I lay on a hospital bed, struggled to lift my skin-and-bones arm, and pointed at my withered legs.

"Officer, I've been paralyzed from the chest down for three years," I rasped. "I can't even roll over without help, so how am I supposed to kill anyone?"

The captain froze, staring at the medical equipment all over the room and my chart, clearly thinking they'd busted the wrong guy.

Then the forensics update came in: my fingerprints were on the murder weapon, the shoe prints at the scene matched my size exactly, and the killer on surveillance, the one scaling walls like a monster, had my face.

The captain kept staring at me, his suspicion turning into fear.

I looked at the agile version of "me" on the surveillance footage and went ice-cold.

Because just a second ago, I could've sworn my legs, the ones that had been paralyzed for three years, actually moved.

*****

A thunderous bang shattered the silence of the night.

The reinforced door gave way under the SWAT team's breach and crashed to the floor in a cloud of dust.

The instant the door went down, several blinding flashlight beams pierced the dark like blades and fixed squarely on my face.

"Don't move! Hands on your head!"

"Alex Carter! You're surrounded! Surrender now!"

The roar exploded through the cramped bedroom like thunder.

I startled awake, groggy and disoriented, and instinctively tried to sit up, but that familiar, bone-deep weakness flooded my body all over again.

I couldn't move.

"I'm saying it one last time. Hands on your head, or we fire!"

The gun barrels were a few yards away, but I could still feel the cold intent behind them.

I squinted against the harsh light and forced out a dry, raspy whisper. "Officer... I can't get up..."

"Quit the act!" the captain barked. "Surveillance showed you just now..."

The SWAT captain, a broad-shouldered middle-aged man, stormed up to my bed while barking at me, his baton raised high as if he was ready to take down some vicious criminal.

But when his flashlight swept over my body, his roar cut off abruptly.

It was as if someone had clamped a hand around his throat, leaving the word stuck there.

What he saw wasn't some vicious knife-wielding thug, but a body that was little more than a skeleton.

I wore an oversized hospital gown, my limbs gaunt and wasted, my skin showing the sickly pallor of years without sunlight. My legs lay twisted and atrophied on the hospital bed, utterly lifeless.

The nightstand was covered with pill bottles and a urine bottle, and beside it sat an oxygen machine humming quietly.

The air froze.

The SWAT officers exchanged stunned looks. Their guns stayed up, but they were all clearly frozen in shock.

"What the..." The captain frowned, sweeping the flashlight between my face and my legs. "What's going on here? Are you Alex Carter?"

I struggled to raise my bony right hand and pointed at the medical chart hanging from the foot of the bed, forcing a bitter smile.

"Officer, I'm Alex Carter. But I've been paralyzed from the chest down for three years. Forget killing anyone; I can't even turn over without help."

The captain's expression turned strange on the spot. He glanced at his men, then at the equipment crowding the room.

"Captain, could this be a mistake?" one young officer whispered. "He doesn't exactly look like somebody who could kill anyone."

The captain took a deep breath and motioned for the others to lower their guns, though his eyes stayed wary. He walked to the foot of the bed and picked up the thick medical file.

"Post-op cervical fracture. High-level paralysis. Severe muscle atrophy."

Every word made their dramatic raid look like a sick joke.

"Someone called in saying the serial home-invasion killer was in this complex. We followed the camera trail, and it went cold right outside your door."

The captain closed the file, his tone softer now but still suspicious. "Alex Carter, are you sure you were in bed the whole time?"

"I'm sure." I answered calmly, though the whole thing felt absurd. "For the last three years, I haven't left this apartment except to go to the hospital. You can check the cameras. You can ask my caregiver too, though he took the night off."

The captain fell silent.

Just then, the radio at his waist suddenly crackled to life.

"Commander One, come in! Commander One, forensics has an update!"

It was the homicide captain's voice, urgent and heavy.

"Commander One here. Go ahead," the captain said, pressing the button.

"The fingerprint match on the murder weapon is back."

"Report."

"The prints belong to suspect Alex Carter. One hundred percent match. Also, the shoe prints recovered at the scene match Alex Carter's size and wear pattern exactly. And most importantly..."

The voice on the other end paused, like even he couldn't believe what he was about to say.

"A hidden camera inside the victim's apartment caught the killer's full face. Facial recognition came back with a 99.9 percent match. It's Alex Carter."

Boom.

The words hit the tiny bedroom like a bomb.

Every officer's gaze sharpened at once. Their guns came right back up and locked onto me all over again.

The captain's expression shifted from suspicion into pure shock and disbelief. He stared at me as if I were a monster wearing human skin.

"Alex Carter!" He yanked out his sidearm and pressed it to my forehead. "The evidence is airtight. What else do you have to say for yourself?"