The Killing Vision Read Free Page B

forty.  A family.  A house.  Someone to come home to. Chapman had
joined the department right after high school.  His father had been a cop in a
neighboring county, so Chapman had practically grown up in the force.  It had
seemed to be his destiny.
    Halloran on the other hand had knocked about for a
couple of years after graduating from college, first working as a manager for a
firm that owned several convenience stores before joining the police department
in Cedar Hill.  He’d truly enjoyed most of the work he did as a cop, though he
had to admit there were some rough moments.  He had been shot at, spat on,
kicked, slapped, punched, and called everything imaginable.  After a couple of
years he had been promoted to detective.  His first partner was a mean
son-of-a-bitch named Logan who retired a year later and was replaced with Mark
Miller.  Miller was a guy just a couple of years older than Halloran, and the
two of them had formed an instant bond; in fact, they often hung out together
outside work, even taking a couple of weekend fishing trips over at the lakes. 
But last year Miller had decided to move out west—big-sky country. Halloran,
now a lieutenant, was placed in charge of investigations and Chapman had been
brought up from the ranks to fill his old slot.  Although they got along well,
Chapman wasn’t the kind of guy to hang around after quitting time.  Chapman had
his little family to go home to, and he wasn’t interested in kicking back for
an after-work beer or taking off for a long weekend.  Marriage certainly changed
things, and in spite of his loneliness sometimes, Halloran was grateful to not
have that baggage on him.
    Not that he hadn’t had chances.  There had been
several women in and out of his life over the years, and one or two that he had
briefly considered marrying.  But the nature of his work kept him from getting
in too deep with anyone.  After observing day in and day out what people did to
each other, you got a kind of apathy toward life.  You learned to turn off that
part of yourself that needed an emotional attachment.  You became an animal of
sorts—eating, sleeping, working.  And once a woman realized that about you, she
gave up and moved on to something else.  Besides, the crazy hours he worked
didn’t leave him much time for a social life. 
    He took a swig of his beer and felt the coldness
spread through his belly.  Christ, when was the last time he’d been with a
woman?  Eight months?  A year?  He couldn’t remember.  Occasionally he found
himself sniffing around after Camron, the dispatcher at the station; she was
Hispanic—dark-skinned and green-eyed with legs that looked as though they might
squeeze the breath out of you if they were wrapped around your waist.  He
smiled at that; when he fantasized, he usually thought of Camron.  Lonely as he
sometimes was though, women just complicated things.  Period.  As jealous as he
might be of John Chapman, he knew he was happier the way he was. 
    No commitments.  That was the way to go.  He drank
to it.
    The cell phone rang next to his bed, and he picked
it up after the first ring.
    “Mike?  It’s Scotty.”
    Halloran took a drag off his cigarette.  “What’cha
got?”
    “Well, she was strangled before her throat was cut.”
    Halloran blew out a stream of smoke.  “Christ.”
    “And there’s something else.  I’ve been looking at
some tissue samples…”
    “Yeah?” 
    “I’ve never seen anything like it.  I’m gonna call
in my friend from the state, have him come take a look just to be sure.”
    Damn, Scotty could be vague sometimes. “For God’s
sake, Scotty, what’re you talking about?”
    Scotty’s voice was hard.  “I was wrong about the
time of death.  She’s probably been dead for quite a while—maybe since she
disappeared.  But she’s only been exposed for about four days.  That’s based on
insect larva found in her mouth and other orifices.”
    Halloran clinched his