The Darkness Inside: Writer's Cut Read Online Free PDF Page A

Downes made the turn, onto a narrower and quieter road than the main highway.
    “Anyway, so then you found Abbie Galina,” I said.
    She nodded. “We were hopeful after Abblit that we were going to turn up all the body dump sites fairly quickly. The first two showed up only six months apart. I know the families were optimistic.”
    “But Abbie was found a couple of years after the other two.”
    “Two years, yeah. It was the same deal as the others. She was buried in the countryside, not too close to road access to minimize the chances of discovery, but not far enough away to be too difficult to manage.”
    Abbie Galina had had a difficult childhood, struggling with a life-threatening illness in her first two years. But she had recovered fully and was a healthy, happy girl who had started showing signs of a real talent for art.
    “They were all buried naked, as far as you can tell?”
    “Right.”
    “So what happened to their clothes and personal possessions? I know we never found much at Williams’ home when we searched it. There was a piece of jewelry that had belonged to Kerry Abblit – which he claimed he’d bought at a yard sale – but no sign of everything else.”
    Downes shrugged. “They were probably thrown away in the trash or burnt. Williams might let you know for sure if you can get him to play ball.” She rolled her eyes and for once her businesslike façade cracked a little. “Oh, crap.”
    The prison complex loomed up ahead, a blocky structure of red brick, tall and ominously unfriendly in the gloom. Twin high fences topped with razor wire surrounded the facility. There was one main building divided into a number of wings, while a couple of smaller structures made up the rest of the complex. There was a scattered gathering of people, some bearing placards, on the grass near the gates and the main parking lot. A couple of news vans were parked nearby and camera crews were out and about, getting crowd shots or prepping for thirty-second anchor spots. The only placard I could read from the car had the words ‘LIBERTY BEFORE DEATH’ emblazoned on it in bright red letters.
    “I’m sorry, Alex. I was hoping we could avoid this,” Downes said apologetically.
    “Cody Williams has supporters ?”
    “People are suckers for anything that can be painted as a ‘hard luck case’.”
    “But Cody Williams…”
    “Yeah.”
    “Shit.”
    “Yeah.”
    As we passed the knot of protesters, heading for the gate into the main parking lot, not the separate visitors’ one, I saw many of them turn to look at our car. Most of those gathered here looked depressingly normal – middle-aged, white- or blue-collar, or younger and more colorful student types. None of them looked like the freak-show crowd you got at such protests in the city; I guessed the jail was too far for them to drive. A couple waved their placards, but only half-heartedly, unsure of our identities or purpose. I found myself shaking my head. Small-minded 'crusaders' without the first idea about the man they were crusading for. I wanted to jump out and yell Cody's crimes and character at them until they got the message, to shake them by the shoulders and ask them what the hell they thought they were doing. But I couldn’t. Camera crews turned to see what the commotion was about, and my heart sank. I only hoped they’d have lost interest by the time we left the car to head inside the prison complex.
    “How can they possibly support him?” I said. “He’s a multiple child murderer.”
    She shook her head. “Never convicted. He’s in jail for one attempted abduction and the murder of a serial rapist. Paint it right and they can make him look like a tragic vigilante who went over the edge. One of his fan websites claims he was trying to protect Ballard by abducting her.”
    “People believe that ?”
    “People are idiots.” She shrugged.
    “You could have mentioned his fan club when you were offering me the job.”
    Downes said nothing as