Read The Darkness Inside: Writer's Cut for Free Online Page A

Agostini’s Town Car stopped beside me and I hopped in, realizing for the first time just how soaked I was. He glanced at me once, then pulled away from the curb and headed north without passing comment.
    “Did they say anything about it?” I said. The route we took ran past the Tynons’ house. Maybe, I figured, the abductor had come this way too.
    “Only that someone out jogging spotted it and called the cops. I don’t know if they moved it or not before they called it in.”
    “They were out running in this?” I gestured at the water sluicing down the windshield.
    “They must take their fitness seriously as hell.”
    “You’ve got that right.”
    He gestured at my dripping wet suit. “You’re hardly in a position to criticize.”
    I let the remark pass without comment and eyeballed the grey-smeared houses and storefronts as they passed by instead. Lightning snapped like a flash bulb in the sky, but more distant now. The storm seemed to be moving away and the rain was easing off.
    We hung a left and pulled up next to a low earthen bank topped with an arrow-straight stand of trees. Two police cruisers and a forensics van were parked just ahead, and a uniformed cop in a rain slicker stood on the sidewalk to shepherd the curious away.
    “What’s the situation?” I asked, flashing my badge at him.
    “Been on the scene for forty-five minutes or so,” he said, and wiped water from the end of his nose. “Crime scene unit confirmed it was the Tynon girl’s wallet ten minutes ago. They should be on their way over by now.”
    “Have you started canvassing for witnesses?”
    He nodded. “Sergeant Griffin’s been in contact with Detective Hall. I think they’ve got that in hand, sir. But I’m just here to keep people out of this part of the park. They haven’t told me everything.”
    “Sure. Thanks, Officer. Have they marked out a route it’s OK to follow?”
    “Yes, sir.” He pointed to a gap between two of the trees. “They’ve left a taped trail on the path that enters the park just over there. One of the first things they did.”
    I breathed an inward sigh of relief. The clearer they’d kept the area around the wallet, the more chance we had of getting shoe impressions or other evidence. The last few specks of rain hit my face as Agostini and I cut through the grassy bank on the marked gravel path, and then the wind blew dry and fresh.
    The park wasn’t huge. An uneven swathe of green a couple hundred yards across, gently rising and falling. Trees and stands of bushes dotted its surface, breaking up its shape, blurring its edges. The far side looked artificially-flattened, maybe for playing ball. The right was bordered by a small stream that wound away to the south-east. A line of yellow tape ran down the path to a beech a few yards from where a couple of forensic technicians in coveralls were working. There was another uniformed cop on duty by the tree. As we got closer, one of the techs stepped over the tape, holding a plastic evidence bag. His counterpart stayed in place and seemed to be marking out possible impressions for later examination.
    “Special Agent Alex Rourke,” I said when we reached them. “What have you got so far?”
    The first tech held up the bag. Holly Tynon’s wallet, battered pink nylon that bore an equally-battered depiction of Piglet from Winnie-the-Pooh. Cheaply-made, and starting to show threads. It had seen a lot of use, I guessed.
    “Jack’s starting to examine the ground for impressions. I’m going to run this back to the lab and we’ll get it fully checked over,” he said.
    “Any prints or fibers?”
    “Not that we could find out here. We’ll know more later.”
    I nodded. “Have you confirmed that it is actually Tynon’s?”
    “Yes. We opened it — in the bag, of course — and it’s hers all right. Library card from school. Only coins inside, no notes.” He lowered the bag. “It looks like it was thrown away, most likely from the path. I don’t