The Few by Nadia Dalbuono Read Free Book Online

you will get a sense of the overall picture pretty quickly.’ He paused, and shuffled from one foot to the other. Then, after a few seconds, he laid down the mouse and said: ‘I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to get a coffee from the machine. You want one?’
    â€˜Please.’
    It was like he couldn’t leave the room quickly enough.
    Scamarcio’s eyes remained fixed on the first picture in front of him — the last image that Gunbach had been working on. His brain moved fast to decipher the meaning, to grasp the bigger picture, as Gunbach had predicted. The image was blurry and low res, but slowly it came together and, as it did so, a sickly feeling started forming in his stomach. He clicked on another fragment file at the bottom of the screen, and once again his brain rapidly processed the contours, supplied the missing information. The image now filled the frame, and the sickness began to spread through his abdomen, taking hold of him, making him sweat. He steeled himself for the remaining two images and clicked rapidly, trying not to give himself too much time with them. The last was the worst, because it was the clearest and left the least room for doubt. He could see the fear in the child’s eyes.
    He got up from the computer and stepped outside Gunbach’s office, rooting for a cigarette in his pocket that he knew wasn’t there. He’d have to buy a packet tonight — these were extraordinary circumstances. He’d never had to see that kind of stuff before. He knew guys that dealt with it daily, but had never understood how they managed, how they didn’t let it ruin them. Someone had told him once that they didn’t deal with it — that they were all head-cases under regular care from psych — but he wasn’t sure if that was just exaggerated gossip. Now he wished he’d never seen it, and knew it would stay with him forever and would colour other experiences in a way he didn’t want. He felt sorry for Gunbach. The poor guy had been asked to fix a camera, and he’d had to look at this. He was coming towards him with the coffees now, anxiety clouding his pale face.
    â€˜You okay, Detective?’
    â€˜Should be asking you the same. I’m sorry you had to see that— it wasn’t what I’d been expecting. I thought I’d be looking at something rather different.’
    Gunbach handed him the coffee and leant against the wall across from him.
    â€˜No sweat. I know how it is.’
    â€˜You tell Manetti about these?’
    Gunbach shook his head. ‘No. When he called me yesterday, I hadn’t seen them. I put it all together before I went home last night.’
    â€˜Could you keep this to yourself?’
    He looked confused, and seemed to want an explanation. ‘Sure, if you need it that way …’
    Scamarcio put out a hand, and leant against the wall. He felt like he needed to catch his breath.
    â€˜The thing is, this relates to something else I’m looking into, and I need to keep the two investigations separate for now. Could you just bear with me for a while?’ He looked into his eyes, trying to find the real Gunbach.
    â€˜Sure, I understand.’
    â€˜I’ll remember you for this.’ The words were both a promise and a threat — an ambiguity not lost on the boy.
    Scamarcio returned to the tiny office, and retrieved his jacket from the chair. ‘Can you do me print-outs?’ Gunbach, who had followed him in, was sweating under the fluorescence.
    â€˜No problem.’
    He leaned over and clicked the mouse a few times, and the printer whirred into life. They waited in silence, neither sure what to say, the images on the screen killing any conversation. Scamarcio glanced over his shoulder, checking whether there was anyone in the corridor who might pass by and see what they had been looking at. The place was silent, but he swung the door shut nevertheless.
    Gunbach handed