Chasing Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page B

She seemed uncomfortable.
    â€œHe had an album with Polaroid pictures of his victims. There were seven pages with a different vic on each page. We thought they were fake. You see something like that, you think it’s gotta be phony, like that porno stuff with girls pretending to be dead? We didn’t know the shit was real until Bobby recognized one of the girls. It was fucking disgusting.”
    â€œThe mouth.”
    I said, “Where did you find the album?”
    â€œOn the floor by his feet.”
    Starkey positioned herself as if she was sitting in the chair and touched the top of her left foot.
    â€œHere. We figured it slid off his lap when he went for the gold—”
    She suddenly glanced up.
    â€œHe only had one foot. The other was screwed up.”
    Lionel Byrd had lost half of his right foot in a garage accident when he was twenty-four years old. I hadn’t remembered it before, but now I recalled Levy telling me about it. The settlement had left Byrd with a modest disability payment that supported him the rest of his life.
    Poitras said, “It was Bobby put it together. One of the vics was a prostitute named Chelsea Ann Morrow. Bobby knew her, and after we had Morrow, we faxed the pictures through the other divisions. That’s when the IDs started coming. Downtown rolled in that afternoon.”
    I stared at the floor as if I would suddenly see the album. Maybe that was why Starkey kept looking at the floor. Maybe she could still see it.
    â€œDid he leave a note?”
    â€œUh-uh.”
    I glanced at Starkey.
    â€œSo all you found were the pictures?”
    â€œWe pulled a camera and a couple of film packs. There was a box of ammo for the gun. If the task force guys found anything else, I don’t know.”
    â€œPictures don’t mean he killed them. Maybe he bought them on eBay. Maybe they were taken by one of the coroner investigators.”
    Poitras stared for a moment, then shrugged.
    â€œI don’t know what to tell you. Whoever took them, the geniuses downtown decided he’s good for it.”
    The scores of black fingerprint smudges seemed to be moving. They were worse than roaches. They looked like swarming spiders.
    â€œCan I see it?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe album.”
    â€œDowntown has it.”
    â€œWhat about crime scene snaps?”
    Starkey said, “The task force. They cleaned us out, man. The CI’s work and everything from SID went to them. Witness statements from the neighbors. All of it. They hit this place like an invasion.”
    A car door slammed, drawing the three of us to the porch. A senior command officer and a younger officer had just gotten out of a black-and-white. The senior officer stared up at us. He had a tight grey butch cut, razor-burned skin, and a nasty scowl.
    Poitras said, “Shit. He’s early.”
    â€œWho’s that?”
    â€œMarx. The deputy chief in charge of the task force.”
    Starkey nudged me.
    â€œYou were supposed to be gone before he got here.”
    Great.
    Poitras moved to greet him, but Marx didn’t want to be greeted. He came up the steps at a quick march, locked onto Poitras like a Sidewinder missile.
    â€œI ordered this scene to be sealed, Lieutenant. I specifically told you that all inquiries would be handled through my office.”
    â€œChief, this is Elvis Cole. Cole is a personal friend of mine, and he’s also involved.”
    Marx didn’t offer to shake my hand or acknowledge me in any way.
    â€œI know who he is and how he’s involved. He conned the DA into letting this murderer go.”
    Marx was a tall rectangular man built like a sailing ship, with tight skin stretched over a yardarm skeleton. He peered down at me from the crow’s nest like a parrot eyeing a beetle.
    I said, “Nice to meet you, too.”
    Marx turned back to Poitras as if I hadn’t spoken.
    â€œI’m not just being an asshole here, Lieutenant. I