Evil Next Door by Amanda Lamb Read Free Book Online

Morgan believed her kind and gentle nature had probably made her more vulnerable because the killer assumed he would have a more passive victim, someone who would not as readily fight back. Morgan knew from experience that rapists often chose women whom they thought they could easily subdue instead of women who seemed like they might heartily resist.
    Morgan imagined that the killer had probably spent a lot of time before the murder watching Stephanie, studying her, following her, learning about who she was and what her daily patterns were like. Based on the methodical way in which the crime scene was laid out, Morgan assumed the killer did not just randomly pick this particular apartment and this particular girl on this particular night. Given this hunch, the Peeping Tom who had been spotted at the apartment complex a few weeks earlier was quickly flying to the top of the list of possible suspects. If only they knew who he was.
    “I think he knew as much about Stephanie as you could ever know about someone without actually meeting them,” said Morgan.
    It was about 4:45 A.M. when Morgan’s cell phone rang. At that time, he was still sitting at his kitchen table pondering things and rounding the corner on cold beer number three. He was working on a pretty strong buzz, which had momentarily numbed his visceral reaction to the tragedy. But he was violently jarred right back into reality when he heard the voice on the other end of the phone. Morgan was not at all surprised that Carmon Bennett would be calling him at such an ungodly hour. He had given the man his cell phone number because he had expected him to call. The victims’ family members always called Morgan, eventually. It was never a question of if they would call him, but just when. Never a man to mince words, Carmon got right to the point.
    “Are you going to find out who did this to my daughter?” Carmon asked Morgan.
    “I can’t guarantee anything but I’ll promise you this, I’ll keep trying until I can’t try anymore,” Morgan replied honestly.
    Morgan meant every word he said to Carmon and if nothing else, Morgan was a man of his word. He sensed he and Carmon had that in common.
    Morgan could tell by the scratchiness in Carmon’s voice he had probably been up crying most of the night. He couldn’t blame the man. Morgan started to get a lump in his throat just listening to the broken father. He hung up the phone wondering just how he was going to deliver on his promise.

Hail to the Chief
    A few hours later, Lieutenant Morgan got wind that Raleigh’s police chief, Jane Perlov, was raising hell because he and his detectives had left the crime scene in the hands of patrol officers and had gone home for a few hours to get some sleep. Major Don Weingarten, one of Morgan’s superiors, called Morgan on his cell phone that morning to tell him Chief Perlov was on the warpath and was looking for him. Weingarten, an affable company man, wasn’t about to get in the middle of a dispute between the lieutenant and the chief. He simply relayed the message, and let Morgan take it from there.
    Morgan explained to Weingarten his detectives were exhausted and had needed a little break in order to come back and process the crime scene with fresh eyes. Weingarten told Morgan that Perlov was currently at Stephanie’s apartment and wanted to see Morgan there immediately. So Morgan brushed his teeth, washed his face, threw on a clean shirt, and jumped in the car heading for the Bridgeport Apartments, all the while cursing under his breath.
    Since coming to lead the Raleigh Police Department in the fall of 2001, Chief Perlov, a petite blond New Yorker with a fiery personality, had knocked heads with Morgan on more than one occasion. It was no secret that many of the officers didn’t accept Perlov because she was a woman and a Yankee, but that wasn’t why Morgan didn’t get along with her. Despite her diminutive stature, Perlov had a big personality and a desire to take