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

To know someone’s still looking for my Yvette.” She leaned her head back and took in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and whispered something to herself that Stanton couldn’t make out.
    He wondered why she hadn’t asked about Putnam and then realized the reason. “You haven’t seen me in the news, have you?”
    “No. I rarely watch television. What were you in the news for?”
    “Shawna, the man that we think, or we thought, was responsible for kidnapping Yvette, his name was Darrell Putnam and he died. He flung himself off of a building trying to get away from me.”
    She didn’t respond but he noticed she had stopped breathing.
    “I’m sorry, I should have called you. I figured you’d see it on the news and call me.”
    “Did he say . . . did he say anything about her?”
    “No. We searched his house and didn’t find anything either. Everyone believed he was responsible for Yvette and two other girls, but I’m not so sure now. I need to go through this all again and see what we missed.”
    “So you’re saying you think the man that took her is still alive?”
    “Yes.”
    “What do you need?”
    “There’s a connection between the three girls. We thought it was Putnam, but there’s something else. Something we missed. I need to go through Yvette’s things again.”
    “Her room hasn’t been touched. I don’t let anyone in there and Philip stays away from it.”
    “Is there anything you have of hers or anything else you can think of that we haven’t already gone over? Friends you haven’t told me about, teachers or doctors or any other adults she’d had contact with that we haven’t spoken to, anything like that?”
    “Not that I can think of. I mean, I must’ve sent you a hundred emails already. I’m sorry about that.”
    “Don’t be. I asked for them.” He rose. “I’d like to go through her room by myself with your permission.”
    “Of course. You know where it is.”
    Stanton walked to the stairs leading to the basement. He walked slowly, building up an image of the room in his mind. He remembered the bed next to the door, a dresser drawer near the closet, posters of Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus on the walls. It had a faint smell of her body wash, something fruity, something a child would pick thinking it made them seem older.
    He turned left at the bottom of the stairwell and saw her door. Her name was spelled out in little block lettering. When he opened the door it creaked and he pushed it all the way against the wall and waited a few moments before going in.
    The room hadn’t been changed in the slightest. He went to the center and began looking around. The dresser had children’s jewelry next to some of Yvette’s softball trophies. A photo of her in a uniform holding a small bat was leaned against the wall on top of the dresser. Converse sneakers were sticking out from under the bed, the laces adorned with sparkly stickers.
    Stanton opened the closet and saw her clothing. There was nothing here. Everything in this room had been catalogued by him and forensics. But he wasn’t here for that. Childs had once told him, uncomfortably but truthfully, that he was like a hound, and hounds couldn’t chase without a scent.
    He noticed that the aroma of bodywash was gone. Replaced instead by the scent of dust and stale air in a room that had no ventilation.
    He walked out and shut the door behind him.
     
     

 
    9
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Darkness had fallen over the city by the time Stanton pulled into his parking stall. The stall was covered parking underground; far nicer and more secure than anything he had ever had before; far nicer than a cop could afford. He wondered how much of a discount the condo owner had really given him on the rent.
    He took the elevator to the lobby and waved to the security guard as he got on another elevator. The interior of the elevator consisted of mirrors and he caught a glimpse of himself as he pressed the button for the