The Blue Edge of Midnight by Jonathon King Read Free Book Online Page B

Hammonds remained seated, reading a file for several seconds before carefully closing it and rising to acknowledge me.
    “Mr. Freeman. Please, sit down. What can I do for you?”
    Again he used the eye contact, but I was the one who flinched this time.
    “You’ve got a tough one,” I said. “I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to get out of the way so you could get on with it.”
    Hammonds kept the lock on my eyes. Always the professional. Never let emotion slip into the language or demeanor.
    “Is that right?”
    Again we let silence pass between us.
    “Look, I used to be a cop in Philadelphia,” I said, giving in. “You’re working this string of child killings, so I wanted to let you know so you could take me out of the mix and get on with your investigation.”
    Hammonds still didn’t blink, and just as I was second- guessing my decision to come here, there was a light rap at the door and Detective Diaz with the smile walked in. He was followed by Richards.
    “You’ve met the detectives, Mr. Freeman. They have been on this from the beginning. I’d like them to sit in,” Hammonds said, leaving out the “if you don’t mind.”
    Diaz stepped in with the collegial handshake. Richards had put on a jacket that matched her skirt. She nodded, crossed her arms and moved behind one of the chairs.
    “Mr. Freeman was just offering to help us,” Hammonds said, looking back into my face, waiting.
    “Look. I was in law enforcement. I know how some of this works,” I started. “Call up for my records and you can save some time.”
    “We know about your record, Mr. Freeman,” Hammonds said, putting the tips of his fingers on the file on his desk. “Twelve years and then it looks like you kind of went off the deep end.”
    I had never read what they’d finally put in my personnel file, how they worded the shooting, how the shrinks had described my mindset after hours of counseling, what they thought of my walking away from a job that was in my blood and had long been in my family.
    “Yeah, a little,” I finally said, looking down for the first time. All three of them moved almost imperceptibly closer.
    “Should we get a recorder in here, Mr. Freeman?” the woman asked.
    I looked up into Hammonds’ face. His cheeks seemed hollow. Puffy bags sagged under dark eyes that held no emotion.
    “This was not a good idea,” I said and rose to my feet and started out. No one tried to stop me. I was pulling open the door when Hammonds spoke:
    “What’s it feel like to kill a child, Mr. Freeman?”
    I left the door standing open and walked away, giving all three of them my back.
    When I passed through the front doors the heat felt like a fog wrapping around my face and arms and clogging my nose. The air conditioning had set me shivering. Back outside the afternoon bake started me sweating again. I was halfway across the parking lot when I heard my name.
    “Mr. Freeman. Mr. Freeman. Wait. Please!”
    Diaz was nearly skipping to catch up. I turned to acknowledge him but kept moving toward my truck. He came alongside and blew out a quick breath.
    “You gotta excuse Hammonds. He’s wired a little tight these days,” the young detective said, sticking his fingers down in his pockets despite the heat.
    “I’ll give him that,” I said, unlocking my truck door.
    “These murders got everybody on edge. The bosses, the politicians, the civilians. The feds are pushing and threatening to take over if we don’t show something soon. Everybody wants the killer and Hammonds is the one that has to keep saying we haven’t even got a good suspect.”
    “And he still hasn’t,” I said, opening the door.
    “Hey, I made some checks up north myself. No one said you went signal twenty after that shooting with the kids.”
    “Is that right?”
    Diaz was looking at the long jagged scratch running through the paint on my truck and shaking his head.
    “But no one knew you’d come down here either. They just said you