The Gift of the Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page A

school, and she held another job with a family in the neighborhood.
    She walked into the driveway and noticed that the curtains were still drawn on the first-floor windows. She rang the doorbell once and put her key in the door, turned it, and stepped in.
    “Good morning!” she called out. She closed the door behind her and listened for voices. The only light in the hall came from the Christmas tree in the living room.
    “Hello!” She hung her coat on the rack by the door.
    Tree branches brushed against the windows as she took two steps into the living room and paused. Everything in place, curtains drawn, the Christmas tree next to the French doors.
    “Mrs. Anne . . . ?”
    She peeked into the kitchen; the dishwasher light was on, the cycle finished. Maria looked around; no one had made coffee today. It was a tiny thing, and she didn’t know why it should upset her so much. I should check the bedrooms .
    At the top of the stairs, seeping out under the scent of wood polish, an ugly smell hit her hard, and the small hairs on her arms rose against the fabric of her shirt.
    The door to the master bedroom was wide open: four bodies lay on the bed next to one another like flesh turned to stone, blindfolded and hands tied, the pillows slick with blood, and the boys between them. She didn’t have the breath to scream; she stood and stared. When she found her way downstairs, she called 911, and the operator asked which service she wanted.
    “The children . . .” she said, and she had to hold the receiver with both hands. After the operator told her a patrol car was on its way, Maria Davis opened the front door and sat on the step.
    The first blue-and-white arrived at 8:47 a.m. Officers Giordano and Hall secured Mrs. Davis in the back of the patrol car and went in. She sat there, trembling, her eyes closed, her face pale.
    This was no way to start a Monday morning, Giordano thought; his ulcer had already started to glow red.
    Hall pointed silently to the stairs. Their pieces were out; the crime scene had not been cleared yet. They walked up, step after step, got to the landing together, and saw what Maria Davis had seen beyond the open bedroom door.
    “Don’t touch anything,” Giordano whispered.
    “I know,” Hall snapped back.
    Giordano had seen more dead bodies than he cared to remember, but when children were involved, he felt he had to speak softly in their presence. Hall stood still, unable to move or look away.
    A few minutes later, back in the car, Giordano’s voice was clear. “. . . Yes. Two adults, two kids. 1135 Blue Ridge Drive, Three Oaks . . .”
    He rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, ducked into the rain, and went back into the house.
    Lieutenant Fynn took the call in his office at 8:58 a.m. He jotted down the details and stood up to get his crew together. Madison knew him to be a heavyweight, a cop who’d rather stay on the floor and work with his men than get promoted and play golf.
    “Everybody. We have four DOAs in a private residence in Three Oaks.”
    Madison looked up from her paperwork; she hoped her voice would come out steady.
    “What’s the address?”
    “1135 Blue Ridge.” Fynn looked around the room. “Let’s have everybody down there. Brown, you’re up?”
    Brown was already in his raincoat. “This one’s mine.”
    Madison put her coat on. She didn’t know anybody at that address. She ought to have been relieved, but it didn’t work that way. For the first time she was going to work on her home turf, on Rachel’s home turf, in Three Oaks. There was no relief in that.
    Madison and Brown were riding with Chris Kelly, a veteran Homicide detective with a ratty temper whom nobody liked. He thought himself a mean bastard and liked the notion. Brown tolerated him; Madison just kept away.
    “You know people there?” Brown asked her—the man didn’t miss a thing.
    “No, but it’s my neighborhood,” Madison replied.
    She could almost see Kelly’s ears