2 in the Hat Read Online Free

until you’ve covered the area from the street to the edge of the woods. You know the drill. Look for anything that might be relevant—tire tracks, footprints, candy wrappers, cigarette butts, discarded clothing.”
    “Are the victims missing clothes?” Connie asked.
    “They’re dressed like they’re going to a prom. I’ve got a feeling they weren’t dressed like that before they were killed.”
    “Why does that sound familiar to me?” Ahearn asked.
    Alves motioned with his hands for them to move in closer. “We’re trying to keep this quiet. We think it might be the Prom Night Killer.”
    “I thought he was dead,” Ahearn said.
    “He hasn’t killed anyone in ten years. Not that we know of. But the way the bodies are dressed, looks like his work.”
    In the unnatural glare of the lights, the concentrated silence of the men and women intent on their duties, the cool night air full of purpose, Connie knew this wasn’t an ordinary murder scene. They were dealing with a serial killer. A killer who had outwitted Alves’s old boss, Sergeant Detective Wayne Mooney, and the Boston Police Department for more than a decade. “Should we take a look at the bodies?” he asked, pulling a pair of latex gloves out of his back pocket.
    “You and your obsession with crime scenes.” Alves showed a little smile.
    “You don’t know the half of it.” Connie laughed. “Do we get to see them?”
    “I tell you what, you guys do a good job searching every inch of ground leading up that hill while I process the bodies and the rest of the crime scene, and I’ll give you a quick walk-through before the ME takes them away. But don’t go near them until I say it’s okay. I’ve got to take photos, have the ME do a preliminary examination and then have the criminalists process for evidence. I don’t want to miss anything.”
    “What are we waiting for?” Connie said to Greene and Ahearn. “You guys get started. I’ll make my call.”

CHAPTER 6
    H e tried to fall asleep, but they called out to him. They wanted to
play. He knew he couldn’t. It was against the rules. His Momma tried to stand up for him. “Let him play with his little things. What harm can it do?” But his old man had warned him. “Boys don’t play with dolls.” Action figures, maybe. But dolls? Never. Boys play sports, they play catch, they run, they hit. They don’t care about girls in pretty white party dresses or handsome young men in tuxedos or fancy table settings
.
    But his Little Things coaxed him to come and play. They didn’t care that he wanted to sleep. Why should they? They were selfish, making all that noise. Hadn’t he put them back in the trunk? They were locked up where no one would ever look for them, under the wedding clothes, the costumes that symbolized the vows that meant nothing to the old man and Momma
.
    There they were again, calling his name. He tried covering his ears, but he could still hear them. They would wake the old man if they kept at it, and no one wanted that
.
    The boy eased himself out from under the sheets, careful not to make any sounds. He slid his feet into his slippers and moved across the floor, gracefully. If the old man knew he had kept them, fished them out of the trash and stashed them away, the boy would catch a beating. He needed to get to them quickly and play with them until they were tired. Then he could put them back to bed. They needed their sleep, just like he did
.
    The boy knew where to place his feet on each step leading up to the attic so they wouldn’t creak. He wasn’t sure that it mattered, though, with all the noise they were making
.
He needed to hurry up and get to them. At the top of the stairs, he opened the door on the right, the room at the rear of the house. The room went quiet
.
    Absolute silence
.
    He closed the door behind him and listened for them. He whispered to them. There was no noise, no movement, no laughter. Where were they?
    He reached to his right and felt along