Read Online Hang Wire by Adam Christopher - Free Book Online

baseball caps.
    Ted felt Alison’s grip on his arm tighten. He looked down at the top of her blonde head, and she said, “It’s happened again.”

    Clementina Street, left of Fourth Street, was cordoned off, and Fourth itself was down to one lane, the police directing a growing crawl of traffic. Yellow police tape snapped and flickered in the breeze. There were people there already, just a small group of pedestrians, some in suits, perhaps convention center attendees from just across the street. There were some in orange vests and hardhats, construction workers from a nearby apartment building right on the corner of Clementina.
    Ted and Alison joined the edge of the group. Ted could see another two police cars down the closed-off street, and an ambulance, its red and white paintjob instantly recognizable from just the night before.
    Ted felt his heart kick, like he needed to get away, a moment of déjà vu so strong it made him feel sick. Perhaps it was just seeing the ambulance there. For all he knew, it was the one he’d sat in just hours ago.
    Alison pulled on his arm. “You OK?”
    Ted frowned, confused, and then nodded. “Yeah. It’s just… you know.” He looked down the street where people in uniforms were milling around. They couldn’t see anything. Nobody could. But everybody knew what was going on.
    “I know,” said Alison. “You don’t think anything like this would happen in your town. Right in your home, where you live. It’s like –”
    “Like it doesn’t feel like your home anymore,” said Ted. “I know.”
    “That’s four now.”
    “ Jesus ,” whispered Ted. His head pounded.
    Of course it had happened before. Several times. San Francisco, like an unfortunate number of other cities across the United States, knew what it was like to have a serial killer in their midst. There was David Carpenter, the so-called Trailside Killer, back in the late Seventies, although he hadn’t committed his crimes in the city itself. The San Francisco Witch Killers, early Eighties. And of course the Zodiac Killer, responsible for five deaths and a series of cryptic letters sent to the local press. Unsolved to this very day.
    And now a new name to add to the list: the Hang Wire Killer. Unsolved, ongoing, three deaths – four , now – each the same: the victims were founded hanged in quiet streets or back alleys in the city, dangling from fire escapes or lampposts, strung up with a thin steel cable. And the press sure did love a nickname. The Hang Wire Killer had arrived.
    “Doesn’t make any sense,” said Ted.
    Alison squeezed his arm. “Never does.”
    “I mean,” he said, turning to Alison, “why the wire? Why not rope? Wire is heavy, resistant. It would be awkward, difficult to do it with wire. Doesn’t make any sense.”
    “They’ll catch him.”
    Ted snorted, and Alison gave him a sharp look that made Ted frown and shake his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I hope they will,” he said. “But remember the Zodiac Killer. That guy is still out there.”
    Alison returned her attention to the crime scene. Clementina Street was narrow and quiet, but they were right next to the convention center. Someone must have seen or heard something, surely? This part of town would have been busy, even late.
    “Come on,” said Ted, gently pulling at Alison’s arm. “There’s nothing to see and nothing to do. We just have to let the police do their job.”
    “You’re right,” she said as they walked away. “We’re lucky, in a way.”
    “Lucky?”
    “The blog,” said Alison. “Lucky that we only cover community events and local news.”
    “Roller-skating dogs.”
    “Exactly. Roller-skating dogs. I’m not sure I could handle reporting on something like this.”
    “Real news,” said Ted. He glanced at the flags fluttering outside the convention center as they walked back along Fourth, to the intersection. The offices of the blog were just a few minutes away. “Important