Murder 42 - A Thriller (Sarah King Mysteries Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

call.”
    “Sure, what can I do for you?”
    “Well, I think maybe it’s best you watch something first.”
     
     
    Stefan had uploaded the video onto the case’s official digital file yesterday. He gave Gio the case number and then waited for a call back. He didn’t have to wait long.
    “Holy shit,” Gio said.
    “Yeah.”
    “There’s almost nothing in the file. You haven’t made any progress?”
    Despite Gio’s tone being inquisitive rather than accusatory, Stefan couldn’t help being defensive. “I’ve been on the case two days, but I know when I can and can’t do something. I wanted to see if you had someone who could come out.”
    There was silence on the other end for a long time.
    “No, no one who could deal with something like this. I’ll come out myself.”
    “Oh. All right. If you think that’s best. Sir.” He still felt defensive and slightly foolish for being roused so easily.
    “Any guesses on why the number forty-two on the disc?”
    “None. Sir.”
    He paused. “I’m nervous it’s a victim number. That there’s at least forty-one other videos like this floating around.”
    “Yeah, I did think of that, but we just don’t know.” Stefan waited a beat. “I don’t know if we’re gonna get anything on this.”
    “I know someone that can help. We’ll be out in a day or two.”
    “Thank you… sir.”
    Stefan hung up. Something about Gio didn’t sit right with him. It wasn’t that he seemed like a bad guy, but there was some authoritative streak in his manner of speaking that told Stefan they probably weren’t going to get along. Then again, every job forced people to work with others they didn’t get along with. Maybe he was just being too sensitive.
    Either way, it didn’t matter. He was just relieved he wouldn’t be on this alone anymore.

8
     
     
     
    The bookstore was nearly empty in the morning. One young woman came in and browsed through the poetry section. Other than her, Sarah hadn’t seen anyone else. A morning shift was difficult for her. Maybe it was something about being locked indoors when the sun was out. But she had agreed to cover the shift weeks ago, and she swallowed her discomfort and focused on other things.
    She sat on the stool behind the cash register and watched the sunlight pouring in through the windows. Some of the newer books near the front were illuminated, glossy and eye-catching, while the older books in the middle and back of the store remained dark and seemed decrepit and unappealing.
    “Excuse me,” the young woman said as she stopped in front of the register. “Do you have a compilation of Oscar Wilde’s poetry?”
    “Yeah, we do. Lemme grab that for you.”
    Sarah went over to the poetry section. Poetry, something women in the Amish community were not allowed to either write or read, had been a revelation when she stumbled across it later. Somehow, intuitively, she had always known that language had limits and that experience couldn’t be described. Only poetry, of everything she’d read since leaving the community, had come close.
    “Here it is,” Sarah said, lifting a thick tome and passing it to the woman.
    “Thanks.”
    “He’s one of my favorites. I feel like too many poets take themselves too seriously, and I don’t think he did.”
    The door opened and another customer walked in.
    “It’s actually for a paper,” the woman said. “I know I could go online and read everything he’s ever written, but I like holding a book in my hands, you know?”
    “Yeah, I do. It feels real. Lets you know that these dead people actually did leave something behind.”
    “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty cool when you can bore people even when you’re dead.”
    Sarah giggled and then stopped when she recognized the person who had walked into the store.
    Giovanni Adami wore a gray suit and green tie. His shirt wasn’t buttoned at the top, and the suit coat hung lazily off his body, giving him a more languid appearance. He smiled, and