Buried: Mystery Series (My Murder Mysteries #2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

"Can you now tell me why you were hanging around in the field?"
    "I will now," he said. "It's because I was told to go there."
    "By who?" I said, thinking that he was lying.
    "I received a phone call. It was a man. He told me to go to the field."
    "And when did you receive this phone call?" I asked him, knowing that I could check the phone records later.
    "I don't know the exact time."
    "Did this person say who it was?"
    "No, they just said, 'go to the field tomorrow morning,' and they put the phone down."
    "Did you not think to tell the police?"
    "No," was the simple answer he gave me.
    I was beginning to get tired of the interview already, so I decided to move on to something else.
    "Do you like the idea of killing people?" I asked Ian.
    Ian was silent again.
    "I know the answer to that, Ian," I said, "because two of my colleagues have already been to your house, and they found these unusual, sadistic drawings."
    "That doesn't make me a killer," he said.
    What he’d just said intrigued me very much.
    "Why did you just say that?" I asked him, not knowing the response.
    "Because I know you think I did it!" he yelled, getting up as if he was attacking me.
    "Calm down now!" I said, raising my voice myself.
    "I'm telling you I am not the killer! I did not kill those people!"
    "Did you watch the news the other day?" I asked him.
    Ian nodded, his face facing the floor again. He sat down and looked depressed again. I then made the decision to talk to him about his family.
    "What was your upbringing like?" I asked him.
    "My upbringing?"
    "Yes. What were your parents like? Did you have any grandparents, or brothers or sisters?"
    "I had all of those," Ian replied, still not looking at me.
    "What were they like?"
    Ian looked at me for a second, and then decided to open up.
    "My father used to beat me,” he replied, “and my mother was an alcoholic. Some days I would go hungry, and the only food I received in a day was at school, or if I was lucky enough I found some money somewhere to go to a shop. They treated my little brother, Evan, the same."
    I was not expecting that reply at all, but there was more.
    "My grandparents used to sit and laugh while my father beat me up almost every day. Evan used to be so scared that he hid under the table. My sister used to laugh at me as well. She went out most of the time. She must have been brought up that way too. And then there was my aunt. She was the most caring of the lot, but she did not do anything to stop them – she just blocked it out of her life."
    "Were there any other family members?" I asked.
    "There was Nathan, who was my mother's brother. He left when I was a baby, and never spoke to us again. I remember, when we were teenagers, Evan telephoned him, but he just put the phone down. I suppose he was treated the same way as the rest of us."
    Ian stopped talking, leaving me to think. Who on Earth were these people? I knew I had to put my emotions to one side, and focus on the case.
    "Right, Ian," I said to him. "I am going to arrest you for the murders, and you will be under arrest until we release you (if we release you). You will be looked after in the cells."
    "You're wrong!" he cried. "I did not kill those people! I'm innocent!"
    That was what they all said, but that did not matter. I knew there was a small chance that Ian Green was not the killer, but it was very unlikely.
    However, I noticed something, and I did a little more research and found out something very intriguing. I looked for photographs of each of the family members, and compared them with photographs of the victims. It was then that it hit me. I noticed that each family member had an astonishing resemblance to one of the victims. For example, Eve Roberts strongly resembled Alison Green, Ian's sister. I knew then that I probably had the killer, but I knew that further research had to be done in order to convince a jury.
     
     

Chapter 8
     
    I sat back and thought for a moment: Ian Green. Was that the name of a