Final Call Read Online Free Page A

things.”
    “Why don’t you have her come over here first?” Stanley
suggested. “Maybe Faye is still hanging around.”
    “Stanley, the Freeport Police Department can handle a murder
investigation without Mary O’Reilly’s help,” Bradley said.
    Stanley’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Course you can, Chief,” he
replied. “No one ever said otherwise. Come on, Rosie, let’s get you home.”
    Bradley watched them leave the theater, while he rubbed the
back of his neck. Stanley obviously didn’t realize that things had cooled
between him and Mary during the past few weeks. He had no idea what had
happened, but Mary was avoiding him.
    He shook his head. Maybe he moved too quickly during the
holidays. She was just recovering from being kidnapped. Suddenly, he decides
it’s the right time to tell her he loves her. Then, before they can even begin
their relationship, he nearly dies and Mary has to rush in and save the day.
Yep, that was enough to turn any sane woman off.
    He ought to just give her some space.
    The forensic unit entered through the back door and the rest
of the group stepped back and let them do their work. Within forty-five minutes
the body of Faye McMullen had been lowered to the stage and placed on a gurney.
    “I’ll get you the results of the autopsy as soon as I get
them,” Joe said, as he followed the gurney across the stage.
    “Thanks, Joe,” Bradley replied.
    In another ten minutes, the rest of the group had left the
theater, leaving Bradley to close things down and lock up. He had purposely
waited, perhaps the instinctive itch a seasoned law enforcement officer has when
there is something there, just beyond the apparent.
    The yellow crime scene tape covered half the stage and
blocked the stairs at stage right. He walked slowly over, standing next to the
orchestra pit adjacent to the stage stairs. An overhead spotlight cast an eerie
glowing circle on the edge of the darkened stage, highlighting the area Faye’s
body had rested.
    All of the house lights were now off, so the chairs behind
him disappeared into the shadows. At the back of the room, above the seats, was
a small enclosed balcony that contained the light and sound control booth for
the theater. Pinpoints of green and red glowing lights from the control boards
shone through the Plexiglas windows that encased the balcony.
    The theater was silent. Bradley could hear the wind
whistling against the emergency exit door on the side of the auditorium. The
backstage lights were off, only the dim security lights cast their yellowing
pools of light. There was something else here, he was sure of it.
    Bradley waited and listened. He kept his eyes on the control
booth, anticipating a shadow or a movement in the darkened booth. A car drove
by, casting a quick moving burst of light through the lobby windows. He stood
motionless.
    Then he heard the sound. A woman’s voice? A faint cry? What was it?
    He moved away from the stage, along the far aisle, towards the
darkness of the theater. Leaning forward, he strained to hear the sound again.
He could feel the ice on the back of his neck. He knew something was close.
    Then he saw the shadow at the back of the theater. He moved
quickly, dashing up the aisle to reach the lobby door before the shadow could
escape.
    The spotlight turned off. The theater plunged into
blackness. Bradley froze, reaching for his flashlight before he made another
move.
    He fumbled with the switch, his adrenalin pumping. Finally,
a clear beam filled the room. He moved toward the back of the theater again.
    CRASH!
    The sound came from the stage. He jumped and turned as the
main curtains crashed to the ground. He dashed back down the aisle to the
stage, pushed past the crime scene tape and looked down on the piles of velvet
curtains. A long braided noose lay across the curtains and in the center of the
yards of material was the distinct outline of a woman’s body.
    Bradley reached for the holster on the left side of his
belt. He