The Night Monster Read Online Free PDF Page A

like steam escaping out of a pipe, and drowned out all sound.
    I hopped off the pickup and trotted up and down the aisles. I was guessing my stalker had jumped into a car and was hiding from me. A maroon Ford minivan with fast-food wrappers lying by the driver’s door caught my eye. Something told me that the scumbag with the video camera had dropped them there. As I approached the vehicle, my cell phone rang. Caller ID said JESSIE .
    “Hey honey,” I said.
    “Where are you?” my daughter asked.
    “I had to run outside. Did you win?”
    “We beat them by eight points. One of the fathers said you were chasing somebody. Did you find the stalker I told you about?”
    “Yes, but he gave me the slip. Let me call you right back.”
    “We’re heading back to the motel. Call me if you find him, will you?”
    “You bet.”
    I closed my phone and slipped it into my pocket. Then I approached the minivan, and stuck my face to the tinted windshield. I couldn’t see inside, and I went around to the back and tried to look through the back window. It was covered in duct tape. I considered peeling the tape back, then decided I was overstepping whatever rights I had as a pissed-off father. I dialed the sheriff’s department on my cell phone and heard an operator pick up.
    “This is Jack Carpenter. Who’s this?”
    “Hey Jack, it’s Gloria,” the operator said. “How you been? I heard you were working solo these days.”
    “That’s right. Who’s on duty tonight?”
    Gloria passed along the names of the cops working the night shift. One was a detective named Bob Smith who’d worked for me in Missing Persons, and who knew how to get things done. I asked to speak to him, and Gloria patched me through.
    “This is Detective Smith,” he answered.
    “Jack Carpenter here.”
    “Hey, pal, what’s up?”
    “I need for you to run a license through the system.”
    “I can do that.”
    I started to read the license off the minivan. My eyes weren’t what they used to be, and I stepped forward to get a clearer look. As I did, there was a loud ripping sound, and I lifted my eyes to see an enormous arm spring through the duct-taped window, and grab the front of my shirt.
    “Hey!” I shouted.
    I went straight up in the air, my feet no longer touching the ground. I am a big guy—six foot one, a hundred ninety pounds soaking wet—and the giant arm shook me like a rag doll. I had never felt so helpless.
    The minivan started up and backed out of the spot. I was afraid the driver would back up into another car and crush me to death. Idrew my Colt and aimed at the back door. I didn’t like shooting at someone I couldn’t see, but there was no other choice. Before I could get off a shot, the giant arm tossed me through the air.
    I landed on my back, my skull snapping against the pavement. The Colt and cell phone left my hands, and I heard them skip away. The sickening taste of blood filled my mouth. The minivan braked in front of me, its gears shifting. I rolled to my left just as it backed up, and watched the tires missing my head by inches.
    The minivan’s rear door slid back, and I heard someone get out. A dirty work boot appeared by my face. It was the biggest foot I’d ever seen.
    The boot came down square on my head, pinning me to the ground. Struggling to free myself, I envisioned my brains being ground out of my skull.
    “Get back in the van,” someone said.
    I recognized the voice. It was the stalker I’d been chasing.
    “Nuh-uh,” the owner of the giant foot grunted.
    “People are coming!”
    “I want to kill him.”
    “There’s no time.”
    “There’s always time to kill.”
    “Do as I say, before someone sees us.”
    “But I want …”
    “Get in the fucking van!”
    The foot left my head. It was like the weight of the world had been lifted from me. I tried to rise, but a fist crashed down on my skull.
    “Hey buddy, are you okay?”
    Opening my eyes, I saw a pear-shaped man wearing the traditional maroon