Read Online City of Echoes by Robert Ellis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Ellis
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the muted light just before sunset.
And then he stopped.
There were two girls, eighteen or nineteen years old, straightening up the memorial for Faith Novakoff. They had brought fresh flowers and a pack of fresh batteries for the faux candles.
Matt knelt down in the grass and took a sip of coffee as he gazed at them.
He felt so uneasy about so much. The fact that his father had walked out and abandoned him and his mother when he was only a boy. The fact that his mother had died a year later of breast cancer. Because his father still didn’t want him, Matt went to live with his aunt, whom he didn’t know very well but grew to love.
So uneasy about so much.
Lane’s wild story. Cabrera working on the chronological record and, right or wrong, going with the flow like the man worked for a fucking bank.
Matt ran his fingers through the grass and tried to focus.
Why did he have this bad feeling in his gut? This horrific sense that he was staring at the void and about to be tossed in?
He heard something and his mind snapped back. The two girls were screaming. He looked for the source, then back at the girls, and realized that they were staring at him . When he stood up, their bodies shuddered in terror and they fled across the lawn. He watched and listened. They were too far away to say anything. The shrieking seemed to lessen some as they reached the street, but it didn’t stop.
No wonder he wasn’t thinking right . . .
CHAPTER 16
Matt climbed out of the car, then heard someone call out his name and checked the lot. It was Cabrera, hustling over to their unmarked Crown Vic. Grace was right behind him, scrambling out of the station with Orlando and Plank and a handful of cops in uniforms.
Grace pulled the cops aside. “We go with our lights on. You lead the way. You guys take the rear, and we’ll ride in the middle. Four cars. We stop for nothing. We’re in a hurry, but we’re not racing. And stay together.”
Grace hopped into the backseat, riding with Orlando and Plank. Matt slid into the passenger seat as Cabrera started the car and found his place in the middle of the caravan.
“What is it?” Matt said.
Cabrera’s eyes were big and wide and shiny. “A guy working on the tower at the top of Mount Lee heard a girl scream. He called nine-one-one. First responders just called back with confirmation. They found her body on a trail just below the Hollywood sign.”
“Why all this?”
Cabrera shook his head back and forth, gave him a look, almost as if he couldn’t speak.
“What’s going on, Cabrera?”
“She’s like the others,” he said finally.
Matt took it in hard and grimaced. It felt like all the air in his lungs had made a rush for the exit in a single instant. He settled back into the passenger seat, considering what had just happened.
Another murder like the others.
The drive up Beachwood Canyon to the Hollywood sign was more difficult than expected. More of a winding, mazelike journey past homes strewn through the steep hills and wrapped around every curve. It was a dark night. The air still had a bite to it, and the wind had picked up, as if January had arrived three months early. When they gained elevation, Matt could see the carpet of lights from homes on the Westside vanishing as the marine layer swept through the basin like an ocean wave over sand.
The caravan finally reached the communication tower and parking area within the fence at the top of Mount Lee. Matt pulled two flashlights out of the glove box and tossed one over to Cabrera as they got out. Grace led the way down the hill. He was moving fast, too fast for the steep terrain and unsure footing. As they passed the Hollywood sign, Matt gazed at the unlit letters in the darkness. They stood three stories high and were set a hundred yards across the mountaintop, and he found the close-up view surprising, even bewildering. He could remember reading somewhere that it was rigged with alarms and surveillance cameras linked to
And then he stopped.
There were two girls, eighteen or nineteen years old, straightening up the memorial for Faith Novakoff. They had brought fresh flowers and a pack of fresh batteries for the faux candles.
Matt knelt down in the grass and took a sip of coffee as he gazed at them.
He felt so uneasy about so much. The fact that his father had walked out and abandoned him and his mother when he was only a boy. The fact that his mother had died a year later of breast cancer. Because his father still didn’t want him, Matt went to live with his aunt, whom he didn’t know very well but grew to love.
So uneasy about so much.
Lane’s wild story. Cabrera working on the chronological record and, right or wrong, going with the flow like the man worked for a fucking bank.
Matt ran his fingers through the grass and tried to focus.
Why did he have this bad feeling in his gut? This horrific sense that he was staring at the void and about to be tossed in?
He heard something and his mind snapped back. The two girls were screaming. He looked for the source, then back at the girls, and realized that they were staring at him . When he stood up, their bodies shuddered in terror and they fled across the lawn. He watched and listened. They were too far away to say anything. The shrieking seemed to lessen some as they reached the street, but it didn’t stop.
No wonder he wasn’t thinking right . . .
CHAPTER 16
Matt climbed out of the car, then heard someone call out his name and checked the lot. It was Cabrera, hustling over to their unmarked Crown Vic. Grace was right behind him, scrambling out of the station with Orlando and Plank and a handful of cops in uniforms.
Grace pulled the cops aside. “We go with our lights on. You lead the way. You guys take the rear, and we’ll ride in the middle. Four cars. We stop for nothing. We’re in a hurry, but we’re not racing. And stay together.”
Grace hopped into the backseat, riding with Orlando and Plank. Matt slid into the passenger seat as Cabrera started the car and found his place in the middle of the caravan.
“What is it?” Matt said.
Cabrera’s eyes were big and wide and shiny. “A guy working on the tower at the top of Mount Lee heard a girl scream. He called nine-one-one. First responders just called back with confirmation. They found her body on a trail just below the Hollywood sign.”
“Why all this?”
Cabrera shook his head back and forth, gave him a look, almost as if he couldn’t speak.
“What’s going on, Cabrera?”
“She’s like the others,” he said finally.
Matt took it in hard and grimaced. It felt like all the air in his lungs had made a rush for the exit in a single instant. He settled back into the passenger seat, considering what had just happened.
Another murder like the others.
The drive up Beachwood Canyon to the Hollywood sign was more difficult than expected. More of a winding, mazelike journey past homes strewn through the steep hills and wrapped around every curve. It was a dark night. The air still had a bite to it, and the wind had picked up, as if January had arrived three months early. When they gained elevation, Matt could see the carpet of lights from homes on the Westside vanishing as the marine layer swept through the basin like an ocean wave over sand.
The caravan finally reached the communication tower and parking area within the fence at the top of Mount Lee. Matt pulled two flashlights out of the glove box and tossed one over to Cabrera as they got out. Grace led the way down the hill. He was moving fast, too fast for the steep terrain and unsure footing. As they passed the Hollywood sign, Matt gazed at the unlit letters in the darkness. They stood three stories high and were set a hundred yards across the mountaintop, and he found the close-up view surprising, even bewildering. He could remember reading somewhere that it was rigged with alarms and surveillance cameras linked to
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