Voices (Whisper Trilogy Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

building of the hotel and the mess that came with it. I see that as more than just a coincidence.”
    “So what do you think tipped him over the edge?” Fisher asked, interested enough again to drop his cocky smile.
    “You know what I think. Don’t try to railroad me into giving you a reason to doubt what I’m telling you.”
    “Come on, General. You got me all the way out here. I’m interested in your angle on this. That’s part of why I’m here. The people back at Washington have a lot of respect for you. Do you think they’d have entertained this had it been anyone else who’d called it in?”
    Kimmel flicked his eyes across to his passenger, expecting to see the cocky smile he was rapidly growing to hate. Instead he saw a sincere and level gaze, awaiting a response. Kimmel sighed and organized his thoughts.
    “Did you ever hear of a guy called Donovan?”
    “Of course. Violent psychopathic serial killer. All round nasty son of a bitch. I read up on him out of personal interest way before I ever got involved with this case.”
    “Well, what you won’t have read is the link between him and Henry Marshall.”
    “What kind of link? Donovan was long dead before the massacre at the hotel.”
    “Oh, I know. As I said to you earlier, the stuff in the press and what happened are two different things.”
    The Jeep suddenly emerged from the overhanging branches into blazing sunshine. Ahead, beyond the overgrown gravel driveway stood the boarded-up shell of the Hope House hotel. Yellow weeds clung to the foundations, growing in sparse clumps and waving in the bitter breeze. The building itself was a slate-colored block against a backdrop of pale blue sky. Sheets of metal had been placed over the windows and doors, keeping access from curious souvenir hunters. Graffiti, ranging from the lewd to the inventive, adorned every square inch of the building, which, even in the bright light of summer, was both imposing and intimidating. Green tents of various sizes stood in formation in what would have been the car park, and soldiers shuffled from one to another, carrying equipment and paperwork. Kimmel pulled the Jeep up in front of the hotel and shut off the engine, which began ticking monotonously as it cooled. He waited and watched as Fisher leaned forward in his seat, peering up at the building through the windshield, taking it all in. He went on with the story, wanting to finish before they got out of the vehicle.
    “As I was saying, the stuff released to the press and the facts are completely different. Everyone knows Marshall went on a murder spree, leaving six people dead and another critically injured. He hasn’t spoken a word about it since despite numerous attempts to find out why he did it, or what changed his personality so quickly in such a short space of time. Since you didn’t bother to read my report, what you won’t know is that, for whatever reason, Henry Marshall became obsessed with Donovan.”
    “Bullshit,” Fisher said, eyes bright with curiosity and, Kimmel thought, maybe just a little bit of apprehension now they had arrived at the hotel. Kimmel nodded at two of his men who had approached the Jeep to verify it as the General’s. They returned to their duties at the tent nearest to the hotel entrance.
    “I wouldn’t bullshit about any of this, Fisher. The fact is, Henry Marshall murdered his wife some five days before his murder spree and left her to rot in the house. We found her sitting in the chair, head back, mouth open. Goddamn it, I never smelled anything so bad in my entire life. The maggots had eaten out her eyes. It was a mess.”
    “Jesus Christ,” Fisher said, swallowing hard.
    “That’s not all.”
    “Go on.”
    “All over the house, in every room and on every surface, Marshall had written or carved the word Donovan. He’d even hacked it into his wife’s stomach.”
    That left Fisher speechless, which earlier would have pleased Kimmel immensely. Now that they were at the