"Terence West - Phantoms" - читать интересную книгу автора (West Terence)

Weiss shook Bishop's hand firmly. "I hope not." Sitting back down, Weiss removed a small stack of
papers from his inbox on his desk. Tapping them on the desk to straighten them, he handed them to
Bishop. "Here's the information on your first assignment. I want you to study them thoroughly tonight,
then report to office three-thirteen in the morning to meet your partners."

Chapter 2

The red and blue flashing lights were casting an eerie glow over the front of the brick home. Various
police officers and investigators were moving about their duties. Yellow strands of police tape were
littered around the area, blocking access to the media and the public.

Amidst the bustle of the busy crime scene, a lone detective stood next to his battered green sedan
drinking a cup of coffee. A large man, he was wearing a long tan trench coat, an off-white dress shirt with
a red tie and a pair of gray slacks. The white shirt had various stains scattered over it, while his shoes
were generally untied. He wore a dark gray fedora over his thinning black hair that partially hid his rough
face in shadow. A three day beard was growing on his chin he had no intention of shaving, while dark
bags hung under his eyes from a lack of sleep.

"Detective Enbaugh!" An officer shouted from across the yard.

Jack Enbaugh looked up and tilted his fedora back on his head. Setting his paper coffee cup down on
the hood of his car, he began to weave his way through the crime scene toward the front of the house.
For an overweight man, he was relatively light on his feet. Stopping at the front door, Enbaugh looked at
the young officer. "What is it, officer?"

The young officer in his black uniform pulled off his hat and held it uncomfortably in his hands. "Coroner
wants to know if he can start removing the bodies."

Enbaugh took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "Move them."

The young officer nodded, then walked back into the house. Turning, Enbaugh looked over the front
yard. It was still wet from last night's rain. Turning his face skyward, he looked at the dark clouds
looming overhead. It was officially the hurricane season here in Stone Brook, Florida. The weatherman
on the radio this morning confirmed that a possible hurricane was forming off the southern coast. It was
still too early to tell, but it looked like it was preparing to head on shore.

Enbaugh had lived and worked in Stone Brook for most of his life. He had been born in California, but
his parents relocated to Florida when he was just a child. Stone Brook was a small town of about fifty
thousand people located on the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, just slightly north of the cities of Tampa and
St. Petersburg. He had been protecting the population here for close to fifteen years now. He liked it
here. The town was big enough to have its share of trouble, but it was still free of the large city problems.

"Detective?" a voice asked from behind him.

Spinning around, Enbaugh saw three men pushing gurneys toward him through the house. Each one had
a body resting atop it with a plain white sheet thrown over it.

"Can we get you to move?" the first man asked.

Enbaugh nodded and stepped aside. The first gurney made its way over the doorjamb and onto the