Darkfall by Dean Koontz Read Free Book Online Page A

had turned up dead, leaking from more than a hundred small stab wounds, just like the first victim on Sunday night. His brother, Darl Coleson, had been panicky, so nervous he was pouring sweat. He had told Jack and Rebecca a story about a Haitian who was trying to take over the cocaine and heroin trade. It was the weirdest story Jack had ever heard, but it was obvious that Darl Coleson believed every word of it.
    If Shelly Parker had told a similar tale to Nevetski and Blaine, they wouldn’t have forgotten it. They wouldn’t have needed to ask what sort of “strange” he was talking about.
    Jack hesitated, then shook his head. “Never mind. It’s not really important.”
    If it’s not important, why did you bring it up?
    That would be Nevetski’s next question. Jack turned away from them before Nevetski could speak, kept moving, through the door, into the hall, where Rebecca was waiting for him.
    She looked angry.

6
    Last week, on Thursday evening, at the twice-a-month poker game he’d been attending for more than eight years, Jack had found himself defending Rebecca. During a pause in the game, the other players—three detectives: Al Dufresne, Witt Yardman, and Phil Abrahams —had spoken against her.
    “I don’t see how you put up with her, Jack,” Witt said.
    “She’s a cold one,” Al said.
    “A regular ice maiden,” Phil said.
    As the cards snapped and clicked and softly hissed in Al’s busy hands, the three men dealt out insults:
    “She’s colder than a witch’s tit.”
    “About as friendly as a Doberman with one fierce damned toothache and a bad case of constipation.”
    “Acts like she don’t ever have to breathe or take a piss like the rest of humanity.”
    “A real ball-buster,” Al Dufresne said.
    Finally Jack said, “Ah, she’s not so bad once you know her.”
    “A ball-buster,” Al repeated.
    “Listen,” Jack said, “if she was a guy, you’d say she was just a hard-nosed cop, and you’d even sort of admire her for it. But ’cause she’s a hard-nosed female cop, you say she’s just a cold bitch.”
    “I know a ball-buster when I see one,” Al said.
    “A ball- crusher,” Witt said.
    “She’s got her good qualities,” Jack said.
    “Yeah?” Phil Abrahams said. “Name one.”
    “She’s observant.”
    “So’s a vulture.”
    “She’s smart. She’s efficient,” Jack said.
    “So was Mussolini. He made the trains run on time.”
    Jack said, “And she’d never fail to back up her partner if things got hairy out there on the street.”
    “Hell’s bells, no cop would fail to back up a partner,” Al said.
    “Some would,” Jack said.
    “Damned few. And if they did, they wouldn’t be cops forlong.”
    “She’s a hard worker,” Jack said. “Carries her weight.”
    “Okay, okay,” Witt said, “so maybe she can do the job well enough. But why can’t she be a human being, too?”
    “I don’t think I ever heard her laugh,” Phil said.
    Al said, “Where’s her heart? Doesn’t she have a heart?”
    “Sure she does,” Witt said. “A little stone heart.”
    “Well,” Jack said, “I suppose I’d rather have Rebecca for a partner than any of you brass-plated monkeys.”
    “Is that so?”
    “Yeah. She’s more sensitive than you give her credit for.”
    “Oh, ho! Sensitive!”
    “Now it comes out!”
    “He’s not just being chivalrous.”
    “He’s sweet on her.”
    “She’ll have your balls for a necklace, old buddy.”
    “From the look of him, I’d say she’s already had ’em.”
    “Any day now, she’ll be wearing a brooch made out of his—”
    Jack said, “Listen, you guys, there’s nothing between me and Rebecca except—”
    “Does she go in for whips and chains, Jack?”
    “Hey, I’ll bet she does! Boots and dog collars.”
    “Take off your shirt and show us your bruises, Jack.”
    “Neanderthals,” Jack said.
    “Does she wear a leather bra?”
    “Leather? Man, that broad must wear steel.”
    “Cretins,” Jack said.
    “I