Read Online Lark by Richard; Forrest - Free Book Online

it.” He placed the battery-operated recorder-player on the desk, levered the cassette into it, and held out a small earphone toward Lark. “You should listen.”
    â€œWhy the earplug?”
    â€œI—I don’t want to hear it again.”
    Lark nodded, placed the earphone in his ear, and pressed the PLAY button.
    The voice was male, guttural, and so nearly indistinct that Lark had to strain to catch the words.
    â€œI’ve got a song for you, Johnny. A pretty, pretty song that I’m sure you will like. And there will be others just as nice. Listen, Johnny. Listen good and see if it’s Gross Out.”
    An anguished scream jolted Lark’s body as if he had been shocked.
    His fist slammed against the recorder twice before it mashed down the OFF lever, but it wasn’t soon enough to stop the second scream, which was cut off at its height.
    â€œYou see what I mean?” Grossman said softly.
    Lark’s hands trembled and perspiration beaded his forehead as he stared down at the small machine. His finger reached slowly forward and depressed the PLAY button.
    He heard the end of the scream. Although prepared, his body tensed and he clenched the edge of the desk. Words now:
    â€œOh, please. I did everything you said … No!” Again a scream.
    â€œYou wish you were never born. Say it. Say it!”
    â€œI wish …” The words were temporarily lost in racking sobs. “I wish I were never born.”
    It was a young woman’s voice and Lark knew who it had once belonged to.
    He unplugged the earphone, walked to the single window in the narrow cubicle, and looked down at the parking lot. It was shift change and men were leaving their patrol cars to be replaced by a new shift.
    He turned to face Grossman; their eyes met momentarily and then flicked away.
    Lark knew he had to listen to the remainder of the tape, and he wondered if he could.

5
    Lark had neglected to switch on the desk lamp, and the small office lay in deep shadows, illuminated only by a yellowish swatch of light falling through the partly open door. The small earphone was inserted in his right ear. He leaned across the desk and supported his head with both hands. His palms were clammy.
    The sound fidelity of the small machine centered on his desk filled him with wonder coupled with revulsion. The voices swirled around him. The man’s guttural commands were obscenely specific and were counterpointed by the girl’s occasional whimpers and cries. It was a descent into hell that evoked a montage of incidents he had witnessed over two decades of police service.
    If this were a film sequence, he would have averted his head and watched the images through peripheral vision, but sounds were more horrifying, since they created mental images more vivid than reality.
    The tape ended with a single shot.
    He removed the earphone and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
    â€œIs it over?” the deferential voice asked from the chair in the darkened corner.
    He had completely forgotten Grossman’s presence. “Yes.”
    â€œDo you think it’s her? The one you’re investigating?”
    â€œThere’s a strong possibility.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do?”
    Lark stared into the shadows. His vision was filled with strong afterimages. “I’m going to find and kill the son of a bitch,” he said softly.
    Chair legs squeaked on the bare floor as Grossman stood. “You’re welcome to keep it. The tape, I mean.”
    Lark laughed. “Thanks.”
    â€œIf you don’t need me, my wife is holding dinner.”
    Lark snapped on the desk lamp, and light spilled across the feet of the heavy man standing a few feet away. “I’d like to borrow the player for a few days, and tomorrow I want to come by the station and see the other stuff you got in the mail.”
    â€œOh, sure. Anytime.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t hear it all. Does it