The Shadow Maker Read Online Free PDF Page A

depressing and unrewarding. There was already the shared sense of a difficult investigation, with no obvious leads. The longer that went on the more pressure Rita would feel to come up with psychological insights into the perpetrator.
    Erin Webster came over, pulling on her jacket.
    ‘Found your witness?’ she asked.
    ‘No.’ Rita grimaced. ‘And you - any joy?’
    ‘What do you reckon?’ said Erin. ‘Since lunchtime I’ve been stuck in an interview room questioning suckholes with a history of violence.
    Not one fits the bill. Tomorrow I’ll do more of the same, and I’m not looking forward to it.’
    ‘Think of it as broadening your social life.’
    ‘Broadening my arse, more likely. I’ve got a feeling the guy we’re after isn’t on file, and the investigation will be a sticker.’ Erin sighed.
    ‘Which is where you come in, of course.’
    ‘And I might as well get started,’ said Rita, as she stood up from her desk, ‘while it’s still fresh in my mind.’
    ‘You off to your cubby-hole?’
    Rita nodded at the reference to the small, converted storage room that the head of the squad had assigned to her to use as an office, study and squad room retreat. It was in there that she did her profiling work.
    ‘By the way …’ Erin grinned. ‘Nice pose on the box.’
    ‘Bloody Mike,’ said Rita. ‘He set up Strickland with a trick question then edited the answer. He’s still pissed off that I dumped him.’
    ‘He wants you back,’ said Erin. ‘Men can’t take rejection. Makes them schizo.’
    ‘Maybe you should be the profiler.’ Rita reached into her bag as her mobile started ringing. She checked the caller ID. ‘Speak of the devil.’
    Erin whispered, ‘See ya,’ and headed for the lifts.
    ‘Hi!’ said Cassidy. ‘Did you catch my lead story?’
    ‘ Story ‘s right,’ Rita replied. ‘It was full of fiction.’
    ‘Don’t be like that. It’s modern journalism - informed opinion from a correspondent with authority.’
    ‘Putting you and authority in the same sentence is like finding a whore in a church.’
    ‘Tut-tut,’ said Cassidy in mock reproof. ‘Not very charitable - but the sort of comment I should expect from a sinful Dutch Protestant.’
    ‘Is that more of your informed opinion?’
    ‘Absolutely. I’ve observed your foibles intimately. I know what you’re like in bed.’
    ‘Shut up, Mike.’
    ‘You’re also driven and career-obsessed. You need me around to lighten you up and stop you being so hard-edged.’
    ‘How thoughtful of you to act as my therapist,’ said Rita, ‘when I’d mistaken you for a sleaze-bag.’
    ‘No problem,’ said Cassidy. ‘Which is why I’ve phoned - to see if we’re still on for a drink.’
    ‘I’ve got work to do - as you’ve pointed out to about a million people.’
    ‘Oh, well,’ he said. ‘Career before carousing.’
    As she hung up, Detective Sergeant Higgs loomed up. He was on his way to a red-light district.
    ‘Your boyfriend’s done my team a big favour,’ he said.
    ‘He’s my ex,’ Rita corrected. ‘But what’s the favour?’
    Higgs gave a cruel smile. ‘The street snatch will be scared shitless now. They’ll fall over themselves to cooperate.’
    For a police office, Rita’s glass-panelled room had a slightly cloistered feel to it. Along with the desk, computer gear and grey metal filing cabinets stuffed with printouts and case files, there were stacks of academic magazines and shelves of scholarly books. Psychology, criminology and forensic science rubbed shoulders with texts on art, mythic symbols and philosophy. The range reflected her depth of interest as well as the demands of her specialised work - something she could take too seriously at times, to the detriment of her personal life.
    As Rita sat amid the comfortable clutter, poring over glossy crime scene photos, police statements, the medical report and her own notes, she was already jotting down the sequence of events and the first broad outlines