Shadows Read Online Free PDF Page A

down on his desk and cry like a baby. Like the day in third grade when the other kids teased him, called him an orphan, and he suddenly realized it was true; he would never see them again. His mother and father were never coming home.
    He blinked back tears, squared his jaw, took out his small black notebook, and began to match the crime scene diagrams to the pictures. He sighed at the quality of the photos. Primitive by today’s standards, relics from a time when police technicians only used .35 millimeter cameras. Today’s digital cameras often provide sharper, clearer pictures with better detail. Photographers can instantly review their shots and shoot them again if dissatisfied.
    Back then no one knew how good the photos were until they were processed. Anything missed was lost forever.
    He noted that a step stool had been overturned and a wooden knife block knocked off a work table. No knives appeared to be missing. The bullet-scarred menu was still legible on a wall behind the counter.
    A heavy cast-iron pot steamed on the stove. Potatoes, boiling for the next day’s salad. In a flood of sensory images, he remembered the smell of meat smoke and the rib racks sizzling in their own juice as they turned golden brown.
    A grainy shot of the street outside revealed a wet, rain-slick sidewalk, eddying swirls of water, and the small Overtown storefront with the sign
    STONE ’ S BARBECUE . He hadn’t seen that since the murders. The place had never reopened.
    This look was preliminary, only the beginning. He didn’t want his first look at the photos to be in front of other people, even his fellow detectives.
    He paged through the reports, searching for names, appalled at times at the skimpiness of the follow-up. Where were the transcripts of witnesses’ statements? The evidence inventories? There had to be more than this.
    He did find the name he wanted most—a man he had thought about for years. He printed it in his notebook, underlined it twice, then locked the case file in his desk.
    Sam Stone, named for his father, walked out of Miami Police Headquarters into the late-summer dusk a different person, he thought, than the one who had walked in that morning.
    The afternoon heat still rose off the pavement. Though somber, he was full of hope about the task ahead. He loved this season and its spectacular sky still bright with deepening hues of pink, blue, and gold until nearly nine P . M . By contrast, winter’s early darkness had always reminded him of death.
    He drove to the tiny shotgun cottage where he grew up in Overtown. He found her in the kitchen, as usual. At the sink, a dish towel in her hand.
    â€œHere’s my girl!”
    â€œI thought I heard your car, Sonny.” Her head barely reached his shoulder, her gray hair brushed his chin, and she felt more frail than ever inside his hug. She weighed less than a hundred pounds.
    â€œHungry, Sonny? I’ll fix you a plate.”
    â€œI was hoping to take my best girl out to dinner. We can drive down to Shorty’s. Or someplace nice over on the Beach.”
    â€œI had a bite at four o’clock. And don’t you be trying to spend your money on me. You have better things to do with it.”
    â€œNope. I don’t, Gran. We need to celebrate.” He felt exuberant. “I’ve got good news.”
    Her eyes lit up, then darted expectantly to the door. “Where is she? Why didn’t you bring her in here?”
    â€œWhy is matchmaking always on your mind? This is something more important.”
    â€œMust be. Haven’t seen you so worked up since that big football game you won in high school.”
    â€œThe team won, Gran, not me. Should a called you earlier, but I wasn’t sure. I’ll take you to dinner Friday. We’ll go early.”
    â€œThat’s when you should be taking your girl out, not me. Now, what is it? What’s the big news?”
    â€œSit down,” he said, drawing