Until Dark by Mariah Stewart Read Free Book Online Page B

“No, no, not that he
looked
like Andrew, but there was something about the way his nose . . .” Her fingers fluttered about her own nose while she searched for words. “It sort of tipped at the end.”
    “Turned up a little?” Kendra asked. “Or a lot?”
    “Just a bit, there at the end.”
    “Like this?” Kendra showed her what she had drawn.
    “My, you are fast,” Mrs. Sims said admiringly as she studied the sketch. “Maybe a tad longer . . . yes, yes, like that.”
    “Do you remember what he was wearing?”
    “A jacket of some sort, maybe. Oh, truly, I don’t remember. I was unlocking my car, you see, and I was in a hurry to get back home, so I didn’t really pay him much mind. I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”
    “You have helped. You’ve helped a great deal. Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Sims. We appreciate your time.”
    “I’m sorry I didn’t pay closer attention.” Mrs. Sims rose as Adam helped her with her chair. “Kathleen Garvey’s grandmother was a dear, dear friend of mine. If I had known . . .”
    “There was no way that you could have.” Kendra stood and took the woman’s hands. “There was no reason for you to think that this man was going to harm her.”
    “Yes, well.” The woman took a tissue from her worn leather purse and blew her nose. “I hope you find him, Agent Stark. I hope the FBI finds him and shoots him, that’s what I hope.”
    “We’ll do our best to find him, Mrs. Sims.” Adam walked her to the door and opened it, as he had for the Spinellis. His hand on her elbow was a gentle touch, his voice low as he walked her into the hallway.
    “Okay, so you want to tell me what that artist was thinking when he sketched that face?” Adam said when he returned to the room.
    “Beats me.” Kendra shook her head. “Max admitted he couldn’t see the man, and Mrs. Sims only saw him from the side from a couple of car lengths away.”
    “Then how did anyone manage to come up with a full frontal sketch?” Adam folded his arms across his chest.
    “That would appear to be the question for the day.” Kendra tucked her drawing into the folder. “Perhaps a chat with Chief Ford will enlighten us.”
             
    Chatting with Chief Ford brought little to the table, except to confirm that the artist, who had taken several art classes at the local college, had brought several books with him. Adam had determined that there were witnesses in the third and most recent case, and Kendra was hopeful that interviews with them would add to her own sketch, maybe complete it. As it was, she left the Deal police station fearing that the drawing that had been circulated throughout the media would, in the end, prove to look nothing like the object of their search. Assuming, of course, that law enforcement caught him.
    “One thing I’m sure of,” Kendra told Adam as they walked to his car, “is that wherever he is, he’s laughing his ass off. And he’s probably feeling pretty cocky right about now.”
    “You mean because he knows he’ll never be identified from that sketch?”
    “The drawing shows the man from the front, which of course means that you don’t see that he has a little ski jump at the tip of his nose. Even if other witnesses had seen him from the front, why was there no sketch done from the side? I just don’t understand what this artist thought he was doing, throwing stuff like that to the newspapers. Not that I think he intentionally released a bad sketch, or that he intended to mislead anyone. But for my money, those damned visual aids serve no purpose except to confuse the witness.”
    “Maybe sometimes . . .”
    “I don’t use them. Ever. Look, the witness is the only one who knows what he or she saw. His or her memory is evidence. You don’t tamper with evidence.” She swung her bag over her shoulder, her brow furrowed. “Once you’ve spread out a bunch of mug shots or catalogs filled with facial features in front of a witness, you’ve already