Read A Cold and Broken Hallelujah Online
Authors: Tyler Dilts
Other titles in the Long Beach Homicide series:
A King of Infinite Space
The Pain Scale
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2014 Tyler Dilts
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of
Amazon.com
, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781477824498
ISBN-10: 1477824499
Cover design by David Drummond
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014903902
For David Aimerito
C
ONTENTS
C
ASE
#0054732
C
RIME
S
CENE
E
VIDENCE
I
NVENTORY
1 S
HOPPING CART
: W
HOLE
F
OODS
M
ARKET
,
VERY GOOD CONDITION
. C
ONTENTS ITEMIZED BELOW
.
5 K
EY RING
:
PLASTIC FOB W
/
BLUE ABSTRACT DESIGN
. O
NE
VW
AUTOMOBILE KEY
. S
IX OTHER KEYS
,
MISCELLANEOUS
.
7 O
NE CAN
D
EL
M
ONTE
F
RESH
C
UT
S
WEET
C
ORN
, C
REAM
S
TYLE
.
10 P
LASTIC PONCHO: BLUE AND GOLD
,
W
/ UCLA
LOGO
.
12 Z
IPLOC BAG
,
QUART-SIZED
,
CONTAINING
:
COMB
,
NAIL CLIPPERS
, A
DVIL
(
FOUR INDIVIDUAL-DOSE PACKETS
).
13 O
NE BOX
D
IXIE MEDIUM-WEIGHT PLASTIC FORKS
,
ONE HUNDRED COUNT
. T
WENTY-SEVEN FORKS REMAINING
.
14 D
UCT TAPE
, 3M
BRAND
,
ONE ROLL
:
PARTIALLY USED
,
APPROX
. 1/3
REMAINING
.
15 W
OOL GLOVES
,
ONE PAIR
:
GRAY
,
HOLES IN LEFT THUMB AND MIDDLE FINGER
.
16 L
EATHERMAN MULTI-TOOL
:
WELL USED, IN BLACK NYLON SHEATH
.
18 Z
IPLOC BAG
,
QUART-SIZED
,
CONTAINING
: I
RISH
S
PRING SOAP
,
ONE BAR
.
19 C
HARMIN
B
ASIC TOILET PAPER
,
ONE PARTIAL ROLL
.
20 F
LEECE KNIT CAP
:
NO LABEL OR LOGO
,
DARK GREEN
.
21 C
OLEMAN SLEEPING BAG
:
LIGHTWEIGHT
,
LIME GREEN W
/
BEIGE INTERIOR
,
WELL USED
,
ZIPPER BROKEN
.
22 T
-SHIRTS
,
SEVEN
:
ASSORTED BRANDS
,
COLORS
,
AND STYLES
.
23 E
NERGIZER
LED
FLASHLIGHT
(
NO BATTERIES
).
24 S
CARF
:
GRAY
/
BLUE STRIPED ACRYLIC FABRIC
,
FRINGE MISSING ON ONE END
.
25 S
PEED
S
TICK
R
EGULAR DEODORANT
,
TWO-PACK
,
ONE STICK PARTIALLY USED
.
26 B
UNGEE CORDS
,
FIVE
:
ASSORTED LENGTHS AND COLORS
.
27 L
AUNDRY DETERGENT
: U
LTRA
T
IDE
,
SINGLE-USE PACKETS
,
SEVEN
.
29 U
SED
A
LTOIDS TIN SECURED W
/
RUBBER BAND
,
CONTAINING
: $8.37
IN COINS
.
30 K
NUDSEN
L
OWFAT
C
OTTAGE
C
HEESE CONTAINER
,
WITH SEWING NEEDLES
,
MISC
.
BUTTONS
,
THREAD
.
31 T
IMEX
I
RONMAN WRISTWATCH
:
BLACK AND GRAY W
/
ORANGE HIGHLIGHTS
.
32 B
IC LIGHTER
:
PURPLE W
/ L
OS
A
NGELES
L
AKERS LOGO
.
33 O
NE PACKAGE
H
ANES MEN
’
S CREW SOCKS
,
SIX COUNT
:
SIZE LARGE
,
UNOPENED
.
P
ROLOGUE
The truth doesn’t set you free. More often than not, it does just the opposite. It weighs on you. It imprisons you. It pulls you down into its depths. The truth is a pocketful of stones at the water’s edge.
I’m a homicide detective, and I know that, with only rare exceptions, the truth is the last thing you want to hear.
The truth is that her death was neither quick nor painless and that she knew exactly what was happening to her as she lay there alone, in agony, staring into the dark.
The truth is that he saw the gun and that his last moments were filled with the most abject terror of his life.
The truth is that he raped her before he murdered her.
The truth is that it is a horror to burn.
He doesn’t flail and he doesn’t scream. The flaring match bounces off the sleeve of his ragged coat, and its abandoned flame surges up his arm. He grunts, mildly surprised, and tries to brush it away like it’s a few stray crumbs. The action only causes his fingerless glove to ignite as well. He holds his hands, both on fire, in front of his face, and he watches them. The surprise that first fills his eyes gives way to fear, which, although it lasts only a few seconds, seems to go on much longer. Finally, the fear gives way to pain, and a low and guttural moan comes out of his grimacing mouth as he collapses to the ground. The sound grows in intensity, and he curls into a fetal ball on the hard concrete and rocks back and forth. The fire covers his whole body, and the flames grow larger, reaching up into the night sky. He writhes and moans for nearly a minute. The flames, the motion, and the sound seem to crescendo together and then begin to fade until nothing is left but a silent and charred and motionless corpse smoldering on the ground.