Collision of Evil Read Online Free PDF

contemplating the top of his scarred desk.
“I can’t answer that,” he said. “I don’t know. When the first blow hit him it was enough to drive him to his knees, we can tell by the way the mud clotted on his trousers. If you want my speculative view, he was conscious after that first blow hit, but probably wasn’t sure what was happening. Remember, he couldn’t see his attacker, who was standing behind him. The second strike propelled him forward into a fence. But I’m certain that all sensation and consciousness stopped the instant that third blow penetrated his skull. My suspicion is that the pain was not overwhelming; I think the body opiates against that. But who knows? You would like to think it was a quick death, Herr Hirter; so would I, but I can’t give you a real answer. Not what you would prefer to hear, I expect, but you asked for a truthful rendition of things.”
“Right,” Robert uttered the word barely audible. “What’s next?”
“Go back to your hotel. Take a walk in this gorgeous weather; not every day here is this desirable. Try to relax. I’ll meet you at the Alpenhof tomorrow morning for coffee, and we can talk about identifying your brother.”
Robert nodded, rose, and shook hands with the tired-looking Bavarian. Moments later he found himself standing by his car and wondering how he had gotten there. The sun was shining withalmost painful intensity against a pale blue sky, but the incontestable beauty of the day failed to rescue him from a feeling of emptiness.
It was to the meadows and woods that he felt inexorably drawn. After an hour in his hotel room and a ham sandwich lunch, Robert knew that he had no choice; he had to see where his brother’s life had come to its unanticipated halt. He donned worn jeans, a thin sweater, and track shoes. Leaving the hotel behind, hearing the creak of the double doors swinging shut, Robert wondered what sense it really made to visit the scene of the crime. The German detective had told him graphically enough what had happened. Still, one foot stepped ahead of the other and Robert knew that he had to make the journey. He had his own map and experienced no difficulty in finding the path his brother had taken.
Robert paused at intervals during his climb, rested his hands on his hips, and surveyed the scenery. He had passed some hikers near the hotel but none up higher; most of the tourists preferred the lighter athletic diversion provided by the valley floor. When he arrived at the high meadows, he quickly found the spot where Charles had been killed. The tall grass bore traces of the disturbance caused by the recent comings and goings there, and orange tape stenciled with the word
Polizei
was strewn haphazardly around the area it had once, briefly, corralled. A small herd of milk cows nearby observed him with bovine indifference. Robert knelt on one knee at the meadow fence and touched it where he imagined his brother’s head had slammed into the rails, but there was no distinguishing sign of this, no trace, no electric current emanating from the weathered wood announcing
it was exactly here.
But he did feel something. A sensation teasing and opaque. He felt with certainty that he was being watched. There was nothing in his field of vision save the cows and it was not their dumb gaze that he felt crawl along his skin. The conviction that some being both sentient and malevolent was studying him would not fade. He rose, slowly, and turned to take in the terrain behind him. Higher still, but close enough to be reached with a ten minutes walk, the darkline of fir trees that marked the forest’s edge fixed his gaze. There was no hint of motion, no betraying movement of branches or flash of color. But Robert knew that his watcher was there, concealed in the mottled shadows of black and brown.
This feeling of surveillance was unexpected, and he was unprepared for it. He wanted to go to the woods and find whoever it was who was there. But he felt embraced