The Stolen Ones Read Online Free PDF

first it was a welcome respite, but after a while, when the people around you didn’t quite get what you were saying, didn’t see things quite the same way you did, you began to miss that person, to miss the shorthand. More than once, over the past two weeks, Jessica had seen or heard or read something, and one of her first reactions was to tell her partner about it.
    She had her husband Vincent, of course, but Vincent Balzano was as different from Kevin Byrne as he could be. Except for the brooding part. What complemented Jessica’s own personality in her marriage also worked with her partnership as a homicide detective. It carried the same basic statute, as well.
    You could both be crazy, you could both be temperamental, just not at the same time.
    Byrne had been injured on a case the previous year, and had spent a long time on medical leave, the longest time he had been off the job in his entire time on the force. Many in the unit were certain he would retire, but one day he showed up at the Roundhouse, as if nothing ever happened, and he and Jessica were soon on a new case.
    But Jessica, who arguably knew him better than anyone in the squad, maybe in the world, had noticed a change. While he was not one of those detectives always ready to deliver some wisecrack, he did have his moments. Still, he seemed more serious in the past six months. Maybe serious was the wrong word. He seemed a bit more introspective.
    Seeing him standing at the edge of the field, silhouetted in the gray mist, he looked more solitary than ever.
     
    The rain was unremitting. As always, Jessica had her umbrella – the big London Fog Auto Stick she’d gotten as a Christmas present from Vincent, Sophie and Carlos last year – in the trunk of the car. Why she did this, she would never know. How hard was it to keep an umbrella in the back seat?
    As she parked she noticed that Byrne was holding one of those small umbrellas you pick up on Market Street for five dollars when you’re caught on the street without one. It barely reached halfway to his shoulders. It was mostly serving to keep his head relatively dry. One good gust, though, and it would invert. And the wind was starting to blow. Jessica grabbed her notepad, tucked it inside her coat, clicked her pen three times, which had somehow become a habit years ago, as if she were Dorothy and wore ruby slippers. She put her pen away, took a deep breath knowing she was going to get soaked, opened the door and sprinted to the back of the car. Within seconds she had the trunk open, and her umbrella out and unfurled.
    She crossed the road, walked over to where Byrne stood.
    ‘Hey, partner,’ she said.
    Byrne turned to look at her. Any fear she’d had about him and his dark moods evaporated in an instant. His eyes were a bright emerald, like always.
    ‘Hey.’
    ‘Not much of an umbrella.’
    Byrne smiled. ‘No substitute for quality,’ he said. ‘Welcome back.’
    ‘Thanks.’ Jessica pointed to the field. ‘Did you walk it off?’
    It was a perfunctory question. She knew he had.
    ‘Yeah.’ He pointed to an area about thirty feet in from the road. ‘The body was found right there.’
    ‘What about the binder?’ Jessica asked. ‘Are you up to speed?’
    ‘As much as I can be.’
    ‘Did you make much out of John’s notes?’
    ‘Not really,’ Byrne said.
    John Garcia did not work with a partner, so there was no one to ask about these things. His strange doodles, it seemed, would forever remain a mystery.
    ‘And there’s no lead on where the missing files are?’ Byrne asked.
    ‘No. Before I left the office I looked at every binder in that drawer, plus the drawers above and below it. They’re not in there.’ Jessica put her umbrella over the two of them just as a gust of wind cut across the open field, soaking them both with frigid rain. They huddled a few inches closer to each other.
    ‘Did you watch the video?’ Jessica asked.
    Byrne shook his head. He knew that Jessica would