See No Evil Read Online Free PDF

lied to them. So many people did, even over foolish things, that the blanket reaction was to paint everyone with the same brush.
    It made me nervous to think they might not believe Gray or me. “Really,” I said. “I saw it. The nosebleed, that is, not the crime. In fact I caused it.” I put my hand to the still tender back of my head. “The nosebleed, I mean.”
    Sergeant Poole acknowledged my comment with a nod. “Did either of you touch anything near the victim?”
    â€œNothing except her wrist and neck to check for a pulse,” Gray said.
    â€œNothing except the toe of my shoe.” I held out my foot. “It got in the puddle of blood in the downstairs hall before I knew it was there. I—I didn’t see it in the dark.”
    The sergeant nodded. “Schumann, get their personal information.” He didn’t say, “Keep an eye on them,” but I thought he might as well have, given his demeanor. He started for the house, then turned back. “Please don’t leave. I’ll need to talk with you more later.”
    I looked at Gray as Officer Schumann pulled out her notebook. “Do you think we’re suspects?” I whispered.
    â€œOf course you’re not suspects,” Officer Schumann said with the sly lift of an eyebrow. “You don’t have to worry about that until you’re Mirandized.”
    â€œWhat?” I stared at her. Was Schumann going to whip out a little card and start reading, “You have the right to remain silent….”
    Officer Schumann put up a hand. “Just a little police humor. You are not suspects.”
    I clearly heard yet hanging in the air.
    With professional efficiency, Officer Schumann took our names and addresses, work information and reasons for being at the murder site. “Now let’s move over here and stay out of the way,” she said, not impolitely. “And don’t talk about the crime.”
    â€œWhere’s Sipowitz?” I muttered to Gray as we watched another female officer in uniform begin to string yellow crime scene tape by winding a strip around the large oak that sat near the edge of the Ryders’ corner property. Unrolling tape as she went, she had just disappeared around back when a truckarrived with high-intensity lights that were lifted by ropes and pulled through window openings to illuminate the second-floor interior. Frequent flashes of light indicated pictures being taken of the victim and the crime scene. “I want Sipowitz.”
    â€œTwo problems,” Gray said, deciding to sit while he waited. He dropped down, resting his arms on his raised knees. “This isn’t NYPD Blue, and this is real life.”
    The real life part was underscored as the coroner arrived in his black van.
    I sat beside Gray, legs bent, knees tucked under my chin, arms wrapped around my shins, watching the procession of people going in and out of the house. The female officer with the crime scene tape appeared on the far side of the yard, looking vainly for something to attach her tape to. Finally she set the tape down, walked to a pile of building refuse two houses away and rooted, her flashlight beam leading the way. She returned with two boards, one of which she began trying to force into the dry, pebbly dirt, using the second as a hammer.
    Sergeant Poole jumped out of the house and walked over to us. He stood with his back to the house and pulled out a notebook. Automatically Gray and I stood, facing him. Officer Schumann left to help the yellow tape officer with her hammering.
    How clever, I thought as I told myself I wasn’t nervous. Our faces are lit by the spill from the house. He can see our expressions, watch for any lies that way. Not that we have anything to lie about. At least I don’t. And I wouldn’t lie anyway, being a Christian and all.
    â€œLet’s begin with you telling me why you’re here tonight,” Poole said, his voice