Walk in Darkness - A Thriller (Jon Stanton Mysteries) Read Online Free Page A

about.”
    “Sure,” he said folding his arms, “what about it?”
    “I’ve never heard of a clearance this quickly after the death of a suspect. They didn’t even interview me.”
    “They had your statements. I talked to them personally and they said everything looked fine. Even sent forensics up to the roof and everything appeared like you said it did.”
    Stanton noticed a slight body sway. It was only for a few seconds and then Ho realized he was doing it and stopped, but it was enough. He was hiding something.
    “As long as everything’s on the up and up.”
    “Jon,” he said slapping his shoulder, “Harlow’s locked up. That day and age is over with. You need to relax more. Look, I gotta dinner date but call me anytime. All right?”
    “All right. Thanks, Chin.”
    As Ho turned and left Stanton stood still in the office a long time. He turned to the board and stared at the pushpin in Sao Paulo before leaving.
     
     
     
    Stanton came out of the parking lot and headed for the freeway entrance. The daylight was fading and the clock on his dash said 6:27 P.M. He pulled over to the side of the road and watched the cars pass him. There was an old building across the street that resembled a shack. A soda shop, run down and empty; a For Lease sign up in one of the broken windows.
    When he was a kid , soda shops were just at the point where they were dying out, relics from some age that didn’t exist anymore except in memories. People had a tendency to elevate the past and degrade the present, and Stanton remembered his father talking about the wholesome nature of soda shops and how it was a blow to American culture to have them die out, even though he had rarely gone to them as a child.
    Stanton looked to the files sitting next to him and picked up the one marked YR. He looked at the address ; the home was only twenty minutes away. He flipped his car around and headed south.
     
     

 
    8
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    The home was a good rambler with a yellowed lawn and a 1980s Cadillac out front. The car was gleaming in the fading sunlight from a recent wax and he could see a sticker on the back window for Mothers Against Drunk Driving.
    He parked at the curb and walked to the front door, ringing the doorbell once and then waiting a long time before someone answered.
    A woman in her fifties opened the door, wiping her hands with a dishcloth. “Detective Stanton?”
    Stanton instantly saw the look of horror in her eyes. She had been hanging on for so long that Yvette was still alive somewhere that she had convinced herself that her death was an impossibility.
    “I don’t have any news, Shawna,” he quickly said, “I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”
    “I’m doing . . . I’m getting along. Please, come in.”
    The interior of the house was decorated with plants and a few pieces of religious art ; the virgin up over the fireplace. Stanton saw that a candle was burning underneath the painting. He sat down on the sofa and Shawna Reynolds sat next to him.
    “Would you like anything?”
    “I’m fine, thank you. How is everything?”
    “It’s quiet. Sometimes I turn on the television just to have some noise. Philip works all day so I’m by myself. My sister comes over a lot now. I have two nieces and . . .” She stopped and looked down to the couch.
    “It’s okay, Shawna.”
    “I’m sorry. I just can’t think about anything else. It’s been almost fourteen months now and I can’t think of anything else. I just see her somewhere, Detective. Living on the streets, or locked up in some house. I see her in a ditch in my dreams and she’s crying out to me.”
    Tears streamed down her cheeks and she reached for a tissue from a box that was on the coffee table. Stanton saw that the box was nearly empty.
    “I’m sorry to bring all this up. I shouldn’t have come.”
    “No,” she said, wiping at her eyes, “no, I’m so glad you did. It helps me to see you.