The Third Victim Read Online Free PDF

pale face. “Honey,” she said quietly. “How did you end up in the closet?”
    Becky just looked at her.
    “Were you hiding?”
    Slowly, the girl nodded.
    “Becky, do you know who you were hiding from?”
    Becky’s bottom lip began to tremble.
    “Was it someone you knew?”
    Becky looked down.
    “It’s okay, Becky. It’s all over now. You’re safe.” Rainie glanced at all the closed classroom doors. “No one can hurt you anymore. I just need to know who did this so I can do my job. Can you help me do my job, Becky?”
    Becky O’Grady shook her head.
    “Just think about it, honey. Just think.”
    Minute passed into minute. The little girl remained silent, and finally she turned away from Rainie and rolled back into a ball. Frustrated, Rainie rose to her feet. Walt and Emery had loaded Bradley onto the stretcher. Chuck’s shirt held a thick pile of sanitary napkins to the man’s chest. Bradley’s skin was still pale blue, but he seemed to be breathing more easily. Score one for the good guys.
    Rainie looked around. The closet door was splintered. Walt had tossed half its contents into the hallway in his quest for sanitary napkins. He and Emery had tracked bloody footprints everywhere. The hall doors remained ominously shut, and Becky O’Grady was curled into the fetal position at Rainie’s feet.
    Then farther down the hall. The fallen teacher. The two smaller forms . . .
    Jesus Christ, what had happened at Bakersville K–8?
    Rainie pulled Chuckie aside and spoke quietly. “We need to get Becky out of here. Why don’t you carry her outside and see if you can find Sandy? By now the other officers should be arriving. Have them set up a perimeter around the grounds. You tell them for me: Nobody gets inside the perimeter, and that includes the press, the mayor, and the richest parent in town. Then tell Luke he’s in charge of the crime-scene log.”
    “Press will be here soon,” Chuckie muttered, his face already scrunching with distaste.
    “We’ll let Shep deal with them.”
    “Okay.” He was looking around the hallway now, the quiet, still hallway, with the shattered doors at the end. “Rainie? Why are all the classroom doors closed? I thought the counselor guy said they evacuated like a fire drill. Seems like none of the kids would close the doors or turn out the lights when they were running from the building. So who’d do such a thing?”
    “I don’t think it was the kids or the teachers.”
    “The man in black?”
    “Would you take the time to close each door as you were fleeing from your crime?”
    Chuckie’s brow furrowed. “Probably not, but who does that leave?”
    Rainie smiled at him wryly. “I don’t know, Cunningham, but I guess I’m about to find out.”

THREE
                                                                                                                                                                                                               
    Tuesday, May 15, 2:05 P . M .
    S ANDY O ’ GRADY TOOK the S-corners of the residential street at forty-five miles per hour. The tires of her loyal Oldsmobile squealed their protest, but she didn’t notice. Her hands were tight on the wheel. Her blue eyes were locked forward.
    All around her, people were running. Sprinting out of their houses, charging down the neat little sidewalks, their faces white with shock, their mouths already yelling the grim news to their neighbors. They carried first-aid kits and blankets, towels and water bottles and anything else they thought might be of use.
    Sandy screeched around the next corner, hit a speed bump hard, and finally had to brake. Just as well. Two blocks from the school the street was clogged with hastily parked automobiles and frantic parents. Sandy drove halfway