A Slow Walk to Hell Read Online Free PDF Page B

figure Talbot told the killer the entry code to the surveillance room. He wouldn’t have been able to help himself. Someone tortured the poor bastard before killing him.” He motioned us through the door with a tight smile. “Welcome to church.”
    “Church?” Amanda said.
    “You’ll see.”

4
    E nrique had exaggerated; it wasn’t a church.
    But it wasn’t far off.
    Amanda and I found ourselves in an open room of maroon tile and textured gold wallpaper. The proximity to the pool and the built-in wet bar suggested it was intended to be a family room, but it didn’t look like any family room we’d ever seen.
    The furnishings were Victorian, heavy and somber. The sitting area consisted of several ornately carved wingback chairs spaced across from a similarly intimidating couch. Heavy tapestries and formidable gilt-framed paintings lined the room. All depicted religious scenes. An enormous mahogany curio cabinet filled with icons and symbols of the Christian faith dominated an adjacent wall. In one corner sat a life-sized statue of Jesus; in another, a smaller one of Mary.
    Amanda made a slow 360. “This is…amazing.”
    “Gets your attention, doesn’t it?” Enrique said, coming forward. “Talbot was a big Catholic. Almost all the rooms are decorated like this. A spare bedroom upstairs even has an altar.” He winked. “Simon must have felt right at home when he walked in.”
    He was only partially kidding. Before becoming a cop, Simon had attended seminary school. He never explained why he passed on becoming a priest, but I had a pretty good guess. His father, a big Miami real estate developer, got his rocks off by strangling young girls between business deals and dumping their bodies in Biscayne Bay. Simon learned the truth when he was something like ten or eleven. Since then, it’s been the defining event in his life. He became a homicide cop not because he wanted to; he had to. In his mind, hunting down killers was the only way to atone for his father’s sins.
    Amanda said to Enrique, “Almost all the rooms…”
    He shrugged. “Several are decorated with a single gold cross. Talbot’s bedroom is the only place where I didn’t notice anything religious. Just the opposite, in fact. It’s pretty wild. C’mon. The body’s in the west wing.”
    He led us through a door into a carpeted hallway. Large windows lined the left side, providing a view of the softly lit center courtyard. The hallway made a left and we passed a series of rooms: a spacious kitchen with dirty dishes in the sink, a formal dining area with a table that could seat a dozen, a music room complete with a grand piano. All contained a variety of religious images and icons. As we walked, Amanda said to me, “We can relax. Talbot’s probably straight.”
    I tended to agree. Devout Catholicism and a gay lifestyle didn’t strike me as compatible.
    We entered a dramatic mosaic-tiled foyer designed to resemble a Mediterranean grotto. A tapestry depicting the crucifixion hung over a bubbling faux-stone pool. On either side of the foyer were marble hallways, leading to the two wings of the house. Amanda and I gazed up the staircase, which rose to a balconied landing. Several latent-print technicians were dusting the handrails. From the second floor rooms, we could hear the sounds of voices emanating down.
    “Simon’s got half the team searching Talbot’s bedroom and his office,” Enrique explained.
    Amanda and I nodded; it was a given as to what Simon was hot to find.
    Enrique swung toward the corridor on our right, then pulled up, frowning at Amanda. “Problem?”
    She had stopped to study the oak front door. We could see the knob had already been dusted. Amanda looked at the nearest technician, a thin guy with tightly curled blond hair that looked suspiciously like Berber carpet.
    “Did you dust the door knob?” she asked him.
    “Yeah. Five prints. Three partials.”
    Amanda nodded slowly. Assuming the killer was moderately