The Holiday Killer Read Online Free PDF Page B

been in town?"
    "A couple days, miss," the man said, elbowing his friend. "We came in off the Dauntless , the deep-sea vessel, when it came in to drop off the catch. We decided to stay a couple of days, since the area is mad with crays that sell for a lot of money at the markets. We cast some crates, hoping to take home Easter dinner." The man swallowed. "We got permits for them."
    "I'll need to see them." She looked to the quiet one. "Were you off the same ship?"
    "Nah, this is my friend, Bruce," Jones interrupted. "He lives over on Hoddington Crescent. We only come down here for the crayfish."
    Liz sighed, realizing that these men, though highly suspicious, were not likely to be of any danger. "Write down your names and contact numbers," she said, pulling a notebook from her pocket. "And I'll need to see some form of ID. If I need to get in contact with you, I want to know who you are, and where I can actually find you."
    The men nodded, the louder one taking the notebook and hurriedly writing down names and addresses for the pair of them. He handed the scrawl back and she looked it over, then added some details from the passport and driver's licenses they offered as ID.
    Satisfied that she what she needed if she wanted to find them again, she nodded to the two men and headed for her car, pulling her marshy shoes off on the way across the road. She had another pair on the back seat, and just planned to wear those until she could get these cleaned.
    The journalists and civilians backed away from her stinky shoes as she passed, not willing to get the marshland mud on their clothes, while Liz made a mental note that carrying mucky shoes was an effective way to get through a crowd when she was in a hurry. She almost laughed as she pulled a plastic bag out of the back seat and dropped them into it.
    What a way to start the day, she thought sarcastically as she drove toward the police station, where the paperwork of the morning awaited her. Bring on the holidays, indeed.
    She rubbed at her face, sighing in frustration as she glanced in the rearview mirror, the throng of media still visible. Could this kid really be another Holiday victim? Or was there another psychopath on the loose? She didn't think it could be the Killer, unless he'd drastically changed his entire killing pattern, from victim to display, in the last—she thought back on the condition of the body—two days.
    But there had yet to be a child taken this Easter, and she couldn't help but feel that this kid was a distraction, something to keep her busy while he sought a way around her defenses, to Jamie.
    Maybe I'm just getting paranoid , she thought to herself as she pulled into the station's car park. Then again, that's the default emotion around here, these days.
     
     

5
     
     
     
     
     
    Liz stood on the front step, looking the man in the eye. "I'm sorry, Mr. Michaels. But your son was found dead this morning."
    The man stared at her, clearly unable to work out what was going on. "Russell? But … but he's meant to be at his cousins' house, for a sleepover." Then his face seemed to break, emotions playing across its surface. "I told him, I told him to stick to the open roads where there were plenty of people to see him. He didn't want to end up like his mother, but would he listen? No! And now he's gone too…" He began to sob, failing to hold himself together.
    Liz felt very awkward, patting him on the shoulder. "Mr. Michaels, did you hear about your son going missing? That he hadn't made it to the sleepover?"
    He shook his head. "No. I didn't hear anything from her. I thought he'd made it. He's eleven, well outside the age range of the Holiday Killer, I thought he'd be safe walking three blocks…"
    Why not check on him anyway? she thought, keeping her face straight, examining the man's body language for any sign of trickery. "I need to know the address of the house he was meant to be staying at," she said, whipping out her notebook and writing it down