The Monster Within Read Online Free PDF Page A

he’s asking, this is a fucking catastrophe.
    “Let me stop you there.” I hold up my hand before he continues. “Bernie, I’m only around for a month. Unless you’ve got a pretty substantial lead, this is something you want to send up the chain, probably to the FBI.”
    This stops Owens on his tracks and he looks at me with a doubtful look on his face. “This isn’t something that we can just hand off to someone, King. We need someone who can actually sit down and look at what we’ve compiled. We need someone to actually give a shit about these bodies that are stacking up.” He looks at me with a serious look in his eyes, which makes me think that I’m not his first choice. I’m his final act of hope.
    “So you don’t have any leads?” I stick another fry in my mouth.
    “Some of the victims know each other,” Owens shrugs. “But there really isn’t anything to go on, except that this is the third victim in the past two weeks. Every suicide in here is dramatic, orchestrated in a peculiar way, and completely unexpected. Everyone in the family and friends say that they never expected the victim to commit suicide. In fact, the victims are usually happy, upbeat people. Altogether, this box stinks, King.”
    “I might not be able to build a case with this in one month, Owens.” I shake my head. He has no leads, no idea who this person is, just a bunch of victims. This is not the ideal situation in which to be spending my last four weeks.
    “I’m not asking for you to build a case for a grand jury,” Owens shakes his head. “We want a lead on this asshole. We want someone with the ability to get around and ask the right questions. Get us a lead before your month is up and we’ll take it from there. When we make a strong enough case against the man you find, we’ll take over from there.”
    “Take over?” I don’t even want to know what it is he’s implying, but there it is. It’s standing in the room like a golem, not letting me move on.
    “We’re tired of watching this murderer get away,” Owens says with a near snarl in his voice, like a dagger hiding behind his back. “You know just as well as me that the system is just going to let this guy get away with his crimes just like they let everyone else like him get away.”
    “No, they lock them away, Owens,” I say with a shake of my head.
    “That’s letting them get away with it, King.” Owens shakes his head at me. “Don’t be naïve.”
    I’ve seen enough cops sour under the pressures and the frustrations that come from good defense attorneys, a broken system, and overcrowded prisons. Laws are too lenient, liberals keep wanting more rights for prisoners, and juries are needing more of a dog and pony show to convict people who are clearly guilty. Shows on Friday night television remind people about the horrors of the wrongly accused and how they suffer because we don’t give the juries enough evidence. It’s almost enough to make men like Owens make sense, let alone feel necessary.
    “You get one month,” I say to him. “I’ll take a look over what you have, but if I’m not finding anything, then there’s nothing I can really do for you. I’m guessing that you understand that.”
    “I understand completely,” Owens shrugs at me, putting his hands on the box. “You want me to go over this with you or do you want to do this by yourself?”
    “I’ll take the box,” I answer. “This place gives me the creeps.”
    “How old are you, King?” Owens frowns as he puts the lid back on the box. “Grow a pair of balls.”
    “Fuck you,” I smile and grab my burger. “You get to carry the box.”
    When we make it out to the car, there’s still a whole flock of officers standing around in the parking lot. As we emerge from the doors and into the blazing glare of the sun, it feels like they’ve all been given the signal. They disperse from their packs, taking to their cars and driving off as I make my way across the scorched