Let Me In - Adam Nicholls (e book reader pdf .TXT) 📗
- Author: Adam Nicholls
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Book online «Let Me In - Adam Nicholls (e book reader pdf .TXT) 📗». Author Adam Nicholls
With Maldives on the mind even two days later, Morgan stopped the car on the far end of the street and climbed out, immediately assaulted by a cold gust of wind. It knocked him back a step, but he recovered, locked his car, and ventured on. It was a short walk to the house, but it gave him just enough time to clear his head, separating himself from the case.
When he reached the house—a modest four-bedroom place with a boring but presentable lawn that looked like every other one in the neighborhood—Morgan stepped up to the porch and rapped upon the door.
Within minutes, Gary had let him in, but they didn’t get as far as the living room.
Gary leaned into the wall of the hallway. “Sorry, Hannah has some friends over. Unless you’re here on a matter that isn’t business related, we’ll just have to talk here.” He paused, looking Morgan up and down. “But something tells me you’re here to work.”
Morgan grinned. “You know me too well.”
“You’re not that hard to read. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I’m here to see what I can do for you. Have there been any developments?”
“No such luck. There’s an APB out on Nick Hansen, but there’s very little to go by outside of a police sketch, and judging by his recent activities he might be a little hard to recognize, don’t you think?”
Morgan winced and folded his arms, leaning back toward the wall. His backside hit a radiator, so he stood back up and closed his eyes, trying to focus through the loud screeching noises coming from the women in the other room. “I just want to stop him.”
“We all do, friend. Especially me. You know that much.”
That was an understatement; Gary had made it more than clear how much he needed Morgan, and in spite of the fact that Gary had more resources at hand, he was less equipped to deal with an investigation like this. Even more so when he was working on something else. It’d taken a lot for Morgan to persuade himself to take the case, but now that he had? He couldn’t let it go. Not even if he wanted to.
“Are you feeling okay?” Gary asked, leaning in for a closer look.
Morgan’s dismay must have been showing on his face. “I’m just gravy. Look, I’ve been over and over this in my head, desperately trying to figure out Hansen’s next move. No matter what I do, I always seem to end up going round in circles. First I think of Carrie Whittle, then I pair up those facts with the other victims, but none of it makes sense.”
“Actually, it all makes sense.”
“How’s that?”
“Hansen dated the girls, right?”
Morgan nodded.
“So, he had an altercation with them, and now the sick bastard is coming back to hurt them. It’s a revenge story, just on a smaller scale to what it’d be if I got hold of him. The only real question is why the victims’ husbands never spoke up.”
“Because they don’t know,” Morgan reminded him. “And I told you that in confidence, just as Emma told me. Don’t go running your mouth about it, or you’ll open up a can of worms for her and her husband. Besides, it doesn’t really contribute to the investigation.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“So, where do we go from here?”
“We could go for a beer?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know that’s not what you meant.” Gary blew out a long breath and placed his hands on his hips, the gun holster dangling under his arm like a snake hanging from a tree. “There just isn’t anything to tell. But you’ll be the first person to know when there is. I promise.”
Morgan knew this, and he trusted him, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with. The stagnation he faced was pulling him further into misery, not unlike a demon dragging him back to Hell. It was torture. “All right. Well, let me know.”
“No problem. Sure you don’t want that beer?”
“Not today.”
Morgan thanked him and left, shivering in the air by the time he reached the bottom porch step. He hugged his chest and stalked down the sidewalk, the streetlights already beginning to brighten against the early dark. Memories of the killer’s victims flashed in front of his eyes like an old projector reel coming back to haunt him, and all he could do was try to think about something—anything—else.
Halfway back to his car, hurried footsteps rushed up behind him. Morgan ignored them at first, but as they drew nearer he spun on his heel and clenched his fist, ready to attack. What he saw, however, was a completely different kind of concern.
Gary was in his trench coat, wheezing and out of breath.
“What’s wrong?” Morgan asked, already sensing the negative vibes radiating off him.
“MPD just had a call come in.” Gary tried to stand up straight, a smile forcing its way onto his lips. He held a hand against his stomach as he caught his breath. He really did need to exercise more. “You’re not going to believe this.”
Morgan’s heart thudded against his chest. “Try me.”
“Our killer has been spotted across town. Police are on their way there now.”
Excitement tore through him. Everything he’d wanted to happen was finally coming through for him. Before he knew it, the car keys were in his hand as he turned around, rushing back to his car. “Then come on. We need to be less than one step behind.”
Only seconds after calling in his own sighting report, Nick Hansen crossed the street and peered through the stained-glass window. He saw the small recess on the side of the great hall, yellowed by the tinted glass. There were no chairs like last time, but a small table on the side of the room was covered with lit candles and a two small stacks of paperwork. Nick began to panic, wondering where the woman was, but then she passed by the window and addressed the table, looming over it as she scribbled on a pad.
It looked like she was alone.
Perfect, Nick thought as he made his way to the door. Here he was, only a few feet away from Rachel Young, while her husband was, with any luck, halfway across town checking out his last-known location. It was a false report, of course. How else was he supposed to get her alone? The way he saw it, this was the easy solution.
Heading inside, where the temperature rose so much that his neck sweated under the wig of long, braided hair, Nick announced his entry by scuffing his feet on the doormat.
Rachel turned around with a jolt, her hand on her heart.
“Sorry,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“That’s all right.” Rachel smiled. It was a pleasant smile, and Nick could see in an instant why she was adored by so many people. If the situation were different, he might even feel guilty about what he was about to do. “What can I do for you?”
Nick shook a braid over his shoulder, assuming the role he’d adopted. “Nothing really. I was just passing, and I thought this looked like a nice place. What do you do here?”
“Oh, we raise money for children.” She leaned back and slid a pamphlet out from the paper stack, then handed it to him with a bony hand. “We’re called HUCINS. If there’s a way to make money or raise awareness, we’re over it like fleas on a cat. There’s always room for more volunteers if you’re interested.”
Studying the colorful pamphlet, Nick flicked the page and held it up to his eyes. It was more of a performance than anything, but he couldn’t help being impressed by the wide variety of activities they held here. “Looks interesting. Anything for the kids, right?”
“Exactly.”
Nick handed the pamphlet back, fidgeting with his wig once again. It was so hot in here he felt like he was going to faint. Maybe he would, and that would be the end of him. He pictured himself falling, the wig toppling off his scalp and leaving this woman to recognize his unconscious face. How long would he last then? Not long, he’d wager. “But I don’t have too much time. The real reason I’m here is—”
“Rachel?”
They both turned at the sound of the new voice in the room. Nick even flinched, terror leading him to believe this was it—he was going to be caught. But the man in the doorway paid him no mind, crossing the room and taking Rachel into his arms.
She hugged him back.
“Just thought we’d stop by for a gossip.”
“You’re always welcome,” Rachel said, separating herself
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