01 Storm Peak by John Flanagan Read Free Book Online

and he nodded, holding up his collection of sample cases.
    “I’ve taken scrapings from under his nails, hair samples, samples from his clothing and all the rest,” he replied. “You can inform the police in Minnesota that the family can have the body for burial anytime now.” Lee nodded her thanks.
    “I’ll drive you back to the airport,” she said, starting to rise. He waved her back into the chair.
    “Cab’s good enough, Sheriff. You’ve got plenty on your plate.”
    She smiled gratefully. “So, when can we expect your report?”
    He screwed up his face thoughtfully. “Give me a couple of days, Sheriff,” he said. “It’s a pretty simple case, I know, but we’re snowed under down in Denver at the moment.”
    “It’s a simple case for you,” Lee said, with some feeling. “I wish it was the same for us.”
    He nodded. “You don’t have a lot to go on, do you?” he asked.
    “We sure as hell don’t.”
    “Well, look on the bright side. Three out of five violent crimes in this state go unsolved anyway.”
    Lee raised an eyebrow at him. “Go ahead,” she said. “Make my day.”

EIGHT
    H e’d been keeping track of the media coverage of what had become known as The Silver Bullet Murder. He smiled now, shaking his head at the fanciful term. How journalists loved to dramatize events.
    But this time, the notoriety suited his purpose. In the past, he’d taken revenge on the people who had crossed him and then quietly faded away. But that no longer gave him the same feeling of satisfaction. It wasn’t quite enough. He wanted something bigger, something more noticeable. Sure he had a specific target in mind, but this time, that killing was going to be the culmination of a whole series of events. He wanted more than revenge on just one person and he wanted the world to know about it. He was tired of remaining anonymous. It was time to move on to a new phase. So this time, he was going to punish the entire organization. He wanted something big. Something newsworthy. Something that attracted attention from a much wider base than just the town he happened to be in. And for that to happen, he needed the media attention that a whole series of seemingly unrelated killings would generate.
    So in that sense, a phrase like “The Silver Bullet Murder” was just what he needed. It was a handle for other journalists and news services to latch on to and, in the days immediately following the discovery of the body, the Murder—he always thought of it capitalized like that — had made it onto the Channel 6 local news in Denver, and then been picked up by the CBS Network coverage as well.
    He smiled cynically as he made his way into Mrs. McLaren’s cozy breakfast room. Coffee was standing ready on a warming plate and the baskets of fresh rolls and doughnuts were laid out ready, as ever. He poured himself a cup of coffee and took one of the doughnuts, putting it onto a plate with a paper napkin, then moved to the two-seater, overstuffed sofa, where a copy of the Denver Post was waiting.
    As he’d expected, the media reveled in a major crime being committed in a travel resort. There was something doubly pleasing to people who were slaving away at their jobs in the dead of winter to read about bad luck happening to someone who was off having a good time.
    He’d been mildly interested to see that his victim had been a dentist. He’d never liked dentists. Never understood how anyone could willingly take on such a job. Serves him right, he thought, smiling again.
    He quickly scanned the front page of the Post, a small frown forming. US troops in the Middle East were still fighting a losing battle. NASA was bleating for funds to mount a manned expedition to Mars and in Washington, the president had met with a delegation from a group of African countries asking for foreign aid.
    Nothing about The Silver Bullet Murder. Apparently, the media was about to drop the entire matter now that the first sensation was over and no