"Nixon, Joan Lowery - The Other Side Of Dark" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nixon Joan Lowery)

"We'll know when we arrest him!"
They look at me, and Markowitz says, "To make a solid case, the DA needs two kinds of evidence: an eyewitness to place someone at the scene of the crime and physical evidence that the person was there."
"I'm the eyewitness! I'm going to remember! I am! And you must have something from the house!" I think about some of the detective movies I've seen. "What about fingerprints? Could you look for fingerprints?"
Dad reaches down and takes my right hand. His forehead is wrinkled with worry. "Calm down, Stacy. Don't get overexcited." He looks at Dr. Peterson as though he were begging for help, but Dr. Peterson just gives a barely noticeable shake of his head.
"Granted, fingerprints can last for years," Markowitz tells me, "but chances are any fingerprints were cleaned up long ago."
I impatiently tug my hand away from Dad's. "But what about when the police investigated after Mom was murdered? Wouldn't they have taken fingerprints then?"
Markowitz nods. "We'll pull the file and see what they've got. There may be a chance they got some prints. Maybe even some clear ones. Obviously, if they had them, they didn't get a make on them; but maybe our boy's been in trouble since then, and we'll be able to match them. There may be some other physical evidence that may help. With luck they'll have the bullet that killed your mother. We won't know till we check it out."
"What good will the bullet do without the gun?"
"It might be worth something. It might not. It's our job to find out."
"Will you tell me? The minute you know?"
"These things take time," Johns says. He turns to Markowitz and mumbles, "Got a cigarette?"
The look Markowitz gives his partner is enough of an answer.
"Okay, okay, forget it," Johns says. He turns to me. "We'll try a computer search. May just luck out."
"Computer?"
Dr. Peterson smiles. "You've got a lot to catch up on, Stacy. Everyone does everything by computer now."
"What will happen to the murderer after you arrest him?"
"He'll go through all the legal processes," Johns says.
"Will he get the death penalty?"
Dad looks startled, but Johns takes the question as though he'd heard it over and over again. "Depends on the jury," he says. "In Texas the death penalty can be given if robbery, sexual assault, or kidnapping are associated with the murder. With this one we've got a robbery charge."
Markowitz tucks his notebook into his inside coat pocket. I get a glimpse of a gun in a shoulder holster. I remember another gun, and I shiver.
"I'm afraid we're tiring you," Markowitz says. As though they could read each other's mind, he and Detective Johns turn toward the door at the same time.
I climb out of my chair and walk a few steps with them. "I'm not tired. I won't get tired. I'll do anything I can to help you."
Markowitz hands me his card. "You can reach me through this number at any time. If you need us, don't hesitate to call." They stride from the room.
Dad follows them. So does Dr. Peterson. Because they've left the door open, I can hear the deep rumble of their voices, but only a word or two, so I stand just inside the door, where they can't see me.
"Well, yes, there is a possibility," Johns says. "But it's a slim one."
Dad is demanding. "But he could be a danger to Stacy."
There's a pause, and Markowitz answers, "Yes. It's a long shot, depending on where this guy is and whether he saw that newspaper article and how his mind works, but I suppose we could say there's a possibility that Stacy could be in danger."
Then shouldn't we get protection for her?" Dad asks.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to butt in." Dr. Peterson doesn't wait to find out if he can or can't and just goes on talking. "It's important that Stacy lead as normal a life as possible so that she can get all the pieces together."
"But I thinkЧ"
I don't hear the rest of what Dad says as they move farther away. I lean against the wall, waiting for Dad to come back to my room. I'm tired. I'm angry. And I'm scared because I don't know what will happen next. The guy without a face who murdered my mother. And Stacy McAdams. Who's going to find the other first?


Chapter Five

When Dad comes back to my room, he tries to hide his worries under a broad smile, but his eyes give him away. He hugs me again and mumbles against my hair, "Oh, Stacy, you can't know how wonderful it is having you back. You just can't know!"
It's warm inside Dad's hug. It's safe. "I don't want to stay in this clinic," I murmur. "I'm feeling all right now. Really. I want to go home with you."
He backs off and smiles at me. "Dr. Peterson says most likely you can come home the day after tomorrow. OnlyЧ"
When he doesn't finish his sentence, I ask, "Only what?"
For a moment he's silent. Then he says, "Only you'll be home alone, and I think someone should be with you."
I open my mouth to say, "But Mom will be there," and I have to remind myself that she won't. It's still so hard to believe. Dad is watching me, so I manage to stammer, "School. I have to go to school, Daddy."
Dad takes my hand and leads me to the bed, sitting beside me. "There are a lot of things to work out, Stacy. And school is one of them. You were just finishing the seventh grade when all this happened to you. But your classmates are now in the eleventh grade. You aren't prepared for eleventh-grade courses, and naturally you won't want to go back to seventh grade. So maybe tutors? Home study? I don't know yet. It hadn't occurred to me to find out what to do."
"I don't want to go to school at home by myself."
Dad rubs a hand over his forehead and sighs. "No, no. Of course not. You'd be lonely."
"Maybe they'd let me take exams for the courses I was taking in seventh grade and make up eighth grade in summer school. That way I'd be in high school in the fall. I'll work real hard, Daddy, and not stay on the phone too long or watch too much television, and Mom willЧ"
The word enters us like an ache, and we just sit there, staring at each other.
"IЧI'm sorry, Dad. I keep forgetting."
He puts an arm around me. "Honey, I still do. So many times I come home in the evening and for an instant actually expect Jeanne to call out to me."

"It hurts so much."