Death Angel Read Online Free PDF Page B

rather than a woman in her thirties.  
    “Come and sit down, Kate.” Richard drew
her into the room, easing her toward one of the chairs and standing over her
until she settled into the cushions. “Did you finish your soup?” he asked as if
she were a child.
    “Most of it,” she said, her voice a bare
whisper.  
    The few times that Carl had seen Kate
and Richard together, he had been surprised at their interaction. They were a
loving couple, but it was clear that Richard was the more dominant in the
marriage. She was always gracious, but in Richard’s company she concentrated on
anticipating his needs. Her plain clothing and lack of makeup did little to
enhance the beauty that Carl saw in her. He wondered if her preference to
remain in the shadows was her idea or Richard’s.      
    Carl sorted through his notes, giving
them a chance to prepare themselves for his questions. Asking them to repeat
everything that happened the day Jenny disappeared would be painful, but he
knew from experience that each repetition would be less hurtful.
    Throughout their recital of events, Carl
heard the constant ring of the phone, a muted reminder of the world outside the
closed door of the studio. Richard appeared unaffected by the chaos beyond the
room. He seemed able to focus on the events of the moment to the exclusion of
all else. Kate flinched at each sound. Occasionally she closed her eyes, taking
a deep, steadying breath until the lines and furrows smoothed away leaving her
face expressionless. Only then did she reopen her eyes. Emotions once more
controlled.
    Carl finished scratching notes on the
yellow, lined sheets in his notebook. He reached into the folder at the back
and pulled out a sealed envelope.
    “This is a copy of the preliminary
autopsy report.” He tried to ignore the horror on their faces, letting the
honesty in his words reach out to the couple. “I know you’re not ready to read
this now, but later you may want to see it. It’s better to know exactly what
happened than to imagine even worse things. No one can hurt Jenny anymore. I
know you’re in agony, but it’s necessary to find the man who killed her. Let
your anger help you fight the grief.”
    He handed the envelope to Richard, who
folded it with meticulous care and put it in the pocket of his shirt. Kate
turned away as if the sight of such a document was too distasteful for her to
bear.
    Carl didn’t give them time to dwell on
what might be in the report. “I’m sure you’re appalled by the cameras and
reporters. We’ll try to keep things under control but you need to know that
some of it’s necessary and actually serves a purpose. We’ll be taking our own
film of people at the funeral home, the church, and the cemetery. Later we’ll
go back and, with your help, identify everyone who was present.”
    “You think the murderer would show up?”
Richard asked.
    “More than likely. Or so the
psychiatrists would have us believe.” Keeping his voice neutral, Carl
continued, “I know you’ve got a lot to do but I’ll need a list of names from
you sometime today.”
    After a sideways glance at his wife,
Richard asked, “Is this something that could wait?”
    “No, I’m afraid not. It shouldn’t take
you long. We need the names of everyone either of you spoke to the day of
Jenny’s disappearance. Added to that I’d like a list of the people you know or
have frequent contact with. Doctors. Dentists. For the present, just people in
Pickard.”
    “You mean — our friends?” Kate asked.
    “Yes.” He kept his response to the
single syllable. Everyone wanted crime to be committed by strangers.  
    “Surely you don’t think someone we know
would have h-hurt Jenny?” she asked.
    “It’s something we can’t rule out.
Although it’s possible that the attacker was a transient, we have to go on the
assumption that it was someone Jenny knew. So far we’ve had neither report nor
sign of a forcible abduction. At this point the