The Monster Within by Jeremy Laszlo Read Free Book Online Page B

like cold beef. Redman lives to serve the DA’s office and the department. He doesn’t give a damn about the city and that’s the kind of mentality that makes people hate the police, with good reason.
    “Fuck off, Jarhead,” I snap, picking up the phone.
    “What did you say to me?” Redman makes the classic mistake of acting like he’s hurt, and no one’s buying that shit. No one ever buys that shit. This is schoolyard bullshit that no one cares about in the adult world.
    “I told you to fuck off.” I look up at him, holding the phone in my hand, waiting for him to move on. “And then I called you a military slur. Because you’re an annoying little prick who thinks he’s better than everyone else because he’s closed four cases in the last two months. Congratulations, Redman. Real bang up work. Did you want some babies to kiss while you go sit in the corner and stroke your ego? Just make sure to clean up afterwards.”
    “Fuck you, King,” Redman leans in and snarls at me.
    “Maybe later.” I wave him to get out of here while I dial in the number of Owens’s latest victim’s parents. She didn’t have many friends, which means that I’m stuck with the family route, it’s not the most promising route, but it’s something. From what I could see last night, Owens has tossed me a grenade and a time bomb and right now, I’m juggling both of them, waiting for them to explode. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that this killer is on the move. Killing people is more of a lifestyle than a hobby for him. He’s killing more and more. He’s picking up momentum and he’s using miscommunication to throw off the departments and precincts of the city. Whoever this killer is, he knows that no one gives a shit about suicides once they’re declared.
    Before I can pull up the number in my rolodex, I feel my phone in my pocket vibrating. I don’t know why, but I shoot a glance across the room where Redman is talking with his fellow cocksuckers who think they’re hot shit. They’ve never closed a case of any real significance. They get gang shootings, coked-up lovers shootings, and corner killings. They get the kind of cases that they toss to young detectives with their more experienced partners who have given up trying to care. Honestly, it’s been years since they’ve given me a partner. Last time they tried giving me a partner, she quit after two days. I don’t have the patience for by the book robots. I need someone who actually gives a shit about this town. Too many detectives use their position as a stepping stone. It’s despicable and I’m not playing along with their games.
    Fishing my phone out of my jeans, I look at the number and I shake my head. No, this isn’t possible. He has to be calling to see if I looked over the reports and the files. He has to be nagging me to get on board with his line of thinking, maybe even to suggest that he’ll come walk me through this shit like I’m some sort of rookie prick. I don’t have time to be watched. God, I hope that it’s just him nagging at me. I flip open the phone and hit the talk button, holding it to my ear. “What’s up, Owens?” I turn away from all the others.
    “We’ve got another,” Owens says without any greetings or hello. God, it’s exactly what I didn’t want to hear. Rubbing my head, trying to comprehend what I’ve gotten into.
    “That’s not possible,” I say, shaking my head.
    “I’ve got another victim that says otherwise,” Owens says to me with a hushed voice.
    “Who caught the case?” I look around to see if there’s anyone missing. At any given time, there are only a handful of detectives in the bull pen. Most are roaming around the city talking to witnesses, next of kin, and suspects.
    “Don’t know yet,” Owens answers. “You’ve got a half hour lead before someone gets here. Pitman is calling it in right now.”
    “Goddamn it, give me the address.” I grab a pen and scribble down the address before