The Monster Within Read Online Free

uniforms. I look around at all the others. Some of them have the same stupid, cheap ass haircut that so many of the other detectives have, but some of these uniforms are old school. Some of them have the look that they came up in this city. They were born into the war and they’re committed. This isn’t a career for many of them, it’s part of the fight to take back their city.
    “Show him the files,” another uniform says. I look at the black man who spoke. He looks like he could bench press Owens and me together. He folds his beefy arms over his swollen chest and looks at me with a doubtful look.
    “What files?” I ask.
    “Some of us are starting to put the pieces together,” Owens says with an intense, serious look in his eyes that makes me feel more and more uncomfortable with every passing second. “Some of the boys and I have started noticing that the suicides in the city aren’t making a whole lot of sense. There’s too many of them, too violent, too dramatic.”
    “So what?” I raise an eyebrow. He doesn’t need to answer the question. I’m already leagues ahead of him. I’ve heard the story a thousand times before. “You think someone’s following depressed people and putting them out of their misery?”
    It’s hot outside. The heat has a way of getting to people, a way to make them more irritable, more violent when it comes to stupid little stuff. I caught more cases where street trash shot someone because they looked at him wrong or said his hat was stupid. They’re all about killing each other when they get in each other’s faces. It’s stupidity and violence all brought on because the heat gets to them. I understand that. I can comprehend it. Maybe the heat also makes people more interested in killing themselves? I’m willing to accept that over the idea that there is a serial killer out there looking to put depressed people out of their misery.
    I’ve seen a killer who worked in a retirement home, going from room to room, finding ways to help put those suffering to rest. It wasn’t until one old man caught on and wasn’t interested in dying so early that they finally caught the woman. I’ve even heard of a guy killing off his chemo patients who weren’t getting better, deciding it best not to prolong the inevitable. But those sorts of people are deluded into thinking that they’re doing an act of mercy, killing those who are suffering. I don’t see anything that would imply that the killer followed the depressed back to their house to kill them. How would a killer even know about them? How would he know that they’re even depressed? Especially if they were recluses like Lola?
    “How about this?” Owens brushes off my comment. “Meet me at the archives and I’ll walk you through a little something that the boys and I have been putting together.”
    I don’t like the sound of that. Is this the cult of the suicide killer that I’ve stumbled into? I look at Owens and wonder if I’m stepping into something that I shouldn’t. I think of the number of days I have left and I wonder if it’s worth even opening this to have a look at it. But the reality of it is—I’m off rotation. I’m not catching anymore. I’m just wasting away for a month. Sure, that sounded great a few hours ago, but I’m not so keen on it now. That’s a lot of time to fill out a very small amount of paperwork and Lola… well, she’s got me intrigued.
    “Alright,” I nod. “But you owe me dinner if I have to listen to your conspiracy theories.”
    “I’ll get you something real nice,” Owens grins, happy that he’s caught me, no doubt.
    “I want a bacon guacamole burger.” I jab a finger at him. “Don’t even bring it if it doesn’t have everything I like.”
    “You’ll get your damn guacamole burger,” Owens nods, snapping his fingers at one of the lurking uniforms.
    “Bacon,” I stress, “guacamole burger. Pick up a bottle of Jameson too.”
    Owens reaches in his back pocket and