Read Online Without Warning by David Rosenfelt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Rosenfelt
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revelations, she was right, or at least that’s how it appeared.
The book was two hundred and forty-one pages, and because I needed to know and understand every detail in it, there was no way I would be able to finish it that night. I was slightly more than halfway through and about to put it aside, when I noticed something strange.
The page after number 128 was number 132.
There were three pages missing.
I debated with myself whether to call Hank and ask him about it, and then decided it could wait until I saw him in the morning. It was almost three o’clock, and there was no reason to wake him.
There was most likely a benign explanation for the missing pages, but I sure as hell wanted to hear it.
The milk in my refrigerator looked awful and smelled worse. I assume that’s what happens when the expiration date is three weeks in the rearview mirror.
That effectively ruled out cereal for breakfast, and there was no leftover pizza, since I had gone out to dinner with Katie the night before. My fallback position in a situation like this was to stop at Lisa’s Diner, where the coffee was great, and the French toast better.
I was anxious to get to the station, though, so rather than sit and have a meal, I told Lisa I would get coffee and a blueberry muffin to go.
“Busy day, huh?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I can imagine. You gonna catch the guy?”
“What guy?”
“You know, the capsule thing.”
When I asked what she was talking about, she showed me the morning paper. Katie had more than chaired a meeting last night; she had supervised the breaking of the story. And the headline was
TIME CAPSULE REVELATION: A KILLER IN OUR MIDST
Matt Higgins had written the story, and although I skimmed quickly through it, he obviously had done a competent, professional job. There was little sensationalism, and none was needed; the substance more than did that job for him. The town would be talking about nothing else in the days and weeks to follow.
I quickly got out of there before other townspeople started showing up and trying to get me to talk about the case. I’ve always tried to be open and available to the local citizens. There’s a good deal of Mayberry in Wilton, and people see me as a friend as well as a police chief. But Andy Taylor never had to deal with a serial killer; if he had, it would have created quite a stir at Floyd’s Barber Shop.
I got to the station before Hank, and had the coffee and muffin at my desk while I read the newspaper story more thoroughly. Matt had left out a good number of details, no doubt with Katie’s concurrence. For instance, there was no mention of the fact that Matt was himself among the threatened, and Samuel Votto was not identified by name.
I knew why they did that, and it made sense. They were going to dribble the information out piecemeal, to keep readers coming back for more. There was no telling when they would be getting fresh information, and if they told everything they knew all at once, they ran the risk of their story going stale.
But while they were concerned with their circulation, I wasn’t. If I decided it wasn’t in our best interest to let them proceed that way, I’d speak to Katie about it. I would have more than enough leverage; I would simply threaten to give the details she had not revealed to a competing media outlet, so that they could break the story.
Mercifully, the content of the article was so important to Matt that he didn’t take the space to mention my war hero status. Even though it was Katie’s newspaper, they had usually included it, but this time they didn’t.
Hank came in a few minutes after I finished reading, carrying his own copy of the paper. “You saw this, right?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. And I saw something else.” I pointed to the murder book. “Check out page 129.”
He walked over to the desk and sat down, pulling the book toward him. He flipped pages until he got to the place where 129 was supposed
The book was two hundred and forty-one pages, and because I needed to know and understand every detail in it, there was no way I would be able to finish it that night. I was slightly more than halfway through and about to put it aside, when I noticed something strange.
The page after number 128 was number 132.
There were three pages missing.
I debated with myself whether to call Hank and ask him about it, and then decided it could wait until I saw him in the morning. It was almost three o’clock, and there was no reason to wake him.
There was most likely a benign explanation for the missing pages, but I sure as hell wanted to hear it.
The milk in my refrigerator looked awful and smelled worse. I assume that’s what happens when the expiration date is three weeks in the rearview mirror.
That effectively ruled out cereal for breakfast, and there was no leftover pizza, since I had gone out to dinner with Katie the night before. My fallback position in a situation like this was to stop at Lisa’s Diner, where the coffee was great, and the French toast better.
I was anxious to get to the station, though, so rather than sit and have a meal, I told Lisa I would get coffee and a blueberry muffin to go.
“Busy day, huh?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I can imagine. You gonna catch the guy?”
“What guy?”
“You know, the capsule thing.”
When I asked what she was talking about, she showed me the morning paper. Katie had more than chaired a meeting last night; she had supervised the breaking of the story. And the headline was
TIME CAPSULE REVELATION: A KILLER IN OUR MIDST
Matt Higgins had written the story, and although I skimmed quickly through it, he obviously had done a competent, professional job. There was little sensationalism, and none was needed; the substance more than did that job for him. The town would be talking about nothing else in the days and weeks to follow.
I quickly got out of there before other townspeople started showing up and trying to get me to talk about the case. I’ve always tried to be open and available to the local citizens. There’s a good deal of Mayberry in Wilton, and people see me as a friend as well as a police chief. But Andy Taylor never had to deal with a serial killer; if he had, it would have created quite a stir at Floyd’s Barber Shop.
I got to the station before Hank, and had the coffee and muffin at my desk while I read the newspaper story more thoroughly. Matt had left out a good number of details, no doubt with Katie’s concurrence. For instance, there was no mention of the fact that Matt was himself among the threatened, and Samuel Votto was not identified by name.
I knew why they did that, and it made sense. They were going to dribble the information out piecemeal, to keep readers coming back for more. There was no telling when they would be getting fresh information, and if they told everything they knew all at once, they ran the risk of their story going stale.
But while they were concerned with their circulation, I wasn’t. If I decided it wasn’t in our best interest to let them proceed that way, I’d speak to Katie about it. I would have more than enough leverage; I would simply threaten to give the details she had not revealed to a competing media outlet, so that they could break the story.
Mercifully, the content of the article was so important to Matt that he didn’t take the space to mention my war hero status. Even though it was Katie’s newspaper, they had usually included it, but this time they didn’t.
Hank came in a few minutes after I finished reading, carrying his own copy of the paper. “You saw this, right?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. And I saw something else.” I pointed to the murder book. “Check out page 129.”
He walked over to the desk and sat down, pulling the book toward him. He flipped pages until he got to the place where 129 was supposed
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