Dirty Harry 05 - Family Skeletons by Dane Hartman Read Free Book Online Page A

delicate subject matter. He wanted to find out more about her blackouts and bloodstains. “Linda says you’re pretty popular, all right.”
    The chill returned between them. “What does she know?” Shanna said vindictively. “I don’t even live there anymore.” The redhead started busying herself with the envelopes and stamps.
    Harry didn’t let up. “But you visit occasionally. And you talk.”
    “What is this? The third degree?” Shanna wondered, trying to make it sound funny, but her voice cracked just a bit.
    “Come on, Shanna, you know better than that. I’m just concerned, that’s all. I want to know how you are.”
    “No, I don’t know!” Shanna flared, the Irish temper coming into evidence. “It was ten years ago; Harry. We don’t play anymore. I’m not that little girl anymore. I’ve changed. I’ve changed inside.”
    “So have I,” Harry interjected softly.
    “Hey,” Shanna went on, unabated, “if anybody should know better, it’s you! Where do you come off coming in here and trying to question me? It may look the same, Harry, but this isn’t San Francisco. You’ve got no jurisdiction here. So back off, copper. You wanted to see how I was? So you saw me. I’m fine. I’m taking care of my own life. You can go back to Mom and tell her that. Then you can go back west!”
    Harry bore the tirade out in silence. Questions weren’t answered, but under the tongue-lashing Harry was ready to tell himself that Shanna was right. It was none of his business. Linda could’ve been wrong. The supposed bloodstains could’ve been ink, they could’ve been chocolate, they could’ve been anything. Shanna could’ve just been exhausted and uncommunicative after a long night. Harry was ready to accept all of it as a mother’s imagination when he glimpsed something over Shanna’s shoulder.
    As she yelled at him, he saw Tom and Christine running across the Common. Even in the twilight and even from that distance, Harry could see it wasn’t the playful run of laughing friends. Christine was running from Tom. As Harry watched, Tom caught up with her and slapped her across the back. The girl fell down, and Tom fell on top of her. They became a fuzzy jumble, but Harry could tell that an arm was rising and falling quickly, curtly, violently.
    By the time he reconcentrated on Shanna, she was a bit remorseful over her outburst. “Look, Harry,” she said miserably. “It is good to see you. Why don’t we start again? Look, I’m not doing anything after I finish here. Why don’t we go to eat someplace? Just talk and patch up with what is going on with each other?”
    Harry pulled her face into focus after trying to make out the two others’ struggling forms again. “I’ll be right back,” he said, not really hearing her offer. “Hang on,” he said more to Christine than to Shanna. “I’ll be right there.” With that he was out the door and running down the stairs.
    Callahan barreled through the office’s front door and out into the four lanes of Beacon Street. Cars coming around the corners braked madly to avoid the tall man who raced right out into the street. Harry dodged behind one swerving car. The other braked right in front of him. He leaped without slowing down and ran across its still bucking hood. He outran two other cars and went through an ornate entrance gate on the side of the park. He ran down a long, multileveled stone stairway flanked by lion sculptures into the park. He watched the faraway forms of Christine and Tom as he went. The boy had sat up. The girl was cowering flat out beneath him. He was yelling something at her while punching her across the body.
    As Harry neared, he saw Tom pull something out of his waistband. He saw what it was and heard what he was shouting at the same time.
    It was a hunting knife. A long, sharp, carved-handle hunting knife. Tom swept back and forth viciously in front of Christine’s terrified face.
    “You want it?” he shouted. “You want it?