Chasing Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page A

was like being dead, motherfucker.
    Now Clare would gossip her answers, and maybe they could all move on.
    Starkey settled at her desk and went to work reviewing a stack of murder books. This being her first homicide assignment, she had been partnered with a couple of veterans named Linda Brown and Bobby McQue. Brown wasn’t much older than Starkey, but she was a detective-three supervisor with nine years on the table. McQue had twenty-eight years on the job, twenty-three working homicide, and was calling it quits when he hit thirty. The pairings were what Poitras called a training rotation.
    Brown and McQue had each dropped ten ongoing cases on her desk and told her to learn the books. She had to familiarize herself with the details of each case and was given the responsibility of entering all new reports, case notes, and information as the investigations developed. Starkey had so much reading to do it made her eyes cross, and when she read, she wanted to smoke. She snuck out to the parking lot fifteen or twenty times a day, which had already caught Griggs’s eye. Jesus, Starkey, you smell like an ashtray .
    Eff you, Griggs.
    Starkey palmed a cigarette from her bag for her third sprint to the parking lot that day when Lieutenant Poitras came out of his office. Christ, he was big. The sonofabitch was pumped-out from lifting weights like a stack of all-terrain truck tires.
    Poitras studied the squad room, then raised his voice.
    â€œWhere’s Bobby? McQue on deck?”
    When no one else answered, Starkey spoke up.
    â€œCourt day, Top. He’s cooling it downtown.”
    Poitras stared at her a moment.
    â€œYou were with Bobby on the house up in Laurel, right?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œPack up. You’re coming with me.”
    Starkey dropped the cigarette back in her purse and followed him out.

4
    THE LATE-MORNING sun bounced between sycamores and hundred-foot eucalyptuses as I drove up Laurel Canyon to the top of Lookout Mountain. Even with the heat, young women pushed tricycle strollers up the steep slope, middle-aged men walked listless dogs, and kids practiced half-pipe tricks outside an elementary school. I wondered if any of them knew what had been found up the hill, and how they would react when they heard. The family-friendly, laid-back vibe of Laurel Canyon masked a darker history, spanning Robert Mitchum’s lurid “reefer ranch” bust to Charlie Manson creeping through the sixties rock scene to the infamous “Four on the Floor” Wonderland Murders starring John “Johnny Wadd” Holmes. Driving up through the trees and shadows, the scent of wild fennel couldn’t hide the smell of the recent fire.
    The address Lou gave me led to a narrow street called Anson Lane cut into a break on the ridge. A radio car was parked midway up the street with a blue Crown Victoria behind it. Poitras, a detective I knew named Carol Starkey, and two uniforms were talking in the street. Starkey had only been on the bureau for a few weeks, so I was surprised to see her.
    I parked behind the Crown Vic, then walked over to join them.
    â€œLou. Starkey, you driving now?”
    â€œI shot Griggs for the job.”
    Poitras shifted with impatience.
    â€œCatch up on your own time. Starkey rolled out with Bobby when the uniforms phoned in the body. They were on it until the task force took over.”
    â€œAll of a day and a half. Fuckers.”
    Poitras frowned.
    â€œCan we watch the mouth?”
    â€œSorry, Top.”
    Poitras turned toward the house.
    â€œYou wanted to see what we have, this is it.”
    The house was a small Mediterranean with a Spanish tile roof heavy with a mat of dead leaves and pine needles. The lot was narrow, so the living quarters were stacked on top of a single-car garage. The garage door was splintered as if a latch had been pried, probably so the police could gain access. A rickety stair climbed the entry side of the garage to a tiny covered