The White Angel Murder by Victor Methos Read Free Book Online

been transferred to Vice a year ago. Stanton contacted the section chief at Vice and was told a meeting could be set up but it would take some time and would have to be outside of the city.
    He put his feet up on the desk and noticed the scuff marks along the edges of his shoes. It reminded him that he still needed to buy a couple of suits and he suddenly felt awkward in his sports coat. Like someone that had been placed in a group only to contrast everyone else’s conformity.
    There was something that had not escaped his thoughts: what if Noah was responsible for this girl as well?
    Noah Sherman’s victims had been blonds and brunettes and young but the killing pattern didn’t match. Noah didn’t like blood, and Stanton knew this first hand. He once nearly fainted at the scene of a suicide where the victim had shot themselves with a 20 gauge shotgun. The two victims that they knew about were strangled and the bodies were covered up; a last vestige of shame and guilt that Noah felt.
    Stanton had not thought about Noah Sherman in a long time and all the events and feelings that he had buried came rushing back into his head, like a damn had been broken and a flood enveloped everything in its path. He remembered Saturday morning racquetball at the gym. Noah was so competitive that Stanton had to let him win occasionally so it wouldn’t ruin his day. After their workouts they would shower and talk about women and kids and where they wanted their lives to take them.
    Stanton also remembered the night Noah nearly killed him.
    They had finished a long day working a drive-by shooting. Stanton had been in a fight with Melissa. Like most fights, it was over something so minor he couldn’t remember now what it was.
    Noah’s home was a large two-story house in the suburbs that he had gotten a deal on because the elderly woman that owned it had no children to leave it to. She wanted a quick infusion of cash to spend traveling to the places she always wanted to see.
    Stanton was going to spend the night to give Melissa a chance to cool off. They drank water and ate steaks and potatoes. Noah, always respectful about Stanton’s beliefs, never drank alcohol or swore in front of him. He even refused to drink coffee and Stanton always admired him for that small act of courtesy.
    When they had finished their meal they watched a boxing match on television and then went to bed. Stanton was to sleep in the guest bedroom but there were no pillows on the bed. He went upstairs to Noah’s bedroom and found him in the shower and asked where the pillows were. Noah told him to check the hall closet.
    Stanton pulled out two pillows and was about to shut the door when he noticed something tucked behind a neatly folded quilt. He pulled it out: they were red silk panties. Stanton grinned as he was about to tease his partner that a woman had forgotten her underwear when he noticed another pair behind them, and another pair behind that one. He pulled them all out. There were twelve total. They had been covering something and Stanton picked it up. It was a little tin box, black with a design of a flower on top. Inside were photographs, a necklace, and a ring. The photos were of women with pale, detached faces, crying into the camera. Police could only identify two of the victims. They were the ones Noah would later be prosecuted and sent to prison for, narrowly avoiding the death penalty through a plea bargain.
    When Stanton turned around Noah was behind him. Wet and naked from the shower, his .40 caliber Smith & Wesson in his hand. He lifted the gun and shot twice without hesitation. The impact threw Stanton backward and over the railing onto the main floor. It had knocked the breath out of him and blood cascaded over his chest and onto the carpet. He tasted the warm thickness of it in his mouth and began to choke.
    Noah rushed down the stairs.
    Stanton, unable to breathe, saw his holster hanging from the chair in the kitchen with his suit coat; blood