Some Choose Darkness. Charlie Donlea. Полицейские детективы. A Rory Moore/Lane Phillips Novel. Читать онлайн. Литмир. LITMIR.BIZ

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-0-7860-4222-7

ISBN-10: 0-7860-4222-2

First Kensington hardcover printing: June 2019

First Pinnacle premium mass market printing: June 2020

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Printed in the United States of America

Electronic edition:

ISBN-13: 978-0-7860-4224-1 (e-book)

ISBN-10: 0-7860-4224-7 (e-book)

For Cecilia A. Donat

Great-aunt, old lady, friend

I fear I am writing a requiem for myself.

—Mozart

THE RUSH

Chicago, August 9, 1979

THE NOOSE TIGHTENED AROUND HIS NECK, AND THE OXYGEN DEPRIVATION spun his head into a splendid mix of euphoria and panic. He allowed the nylon to take the full weight of his body as he eased off the stool. Those who did not understand “The Rush” would consider his pulley system barbaric, and no one but him fully knew its power. The Rush was a sensation more formidable than any narcotic. There was no other vector of life that could provide an equal experience. Quite simply, it was all he lived for.

As he lowered himself off the stool, the rope to which the nylon noose was tethered creaked with the strain of his body as it slithered through the grooved rim of the pulley while he sunk toward the floor. The rope curved over the winch, ran down to a second pulley, then back up and around the third and final crank to form an M.

Attached to the other end of the rope was another strap of soft nylon, which was wrapped around his victim’s neck. Every time he lowered himself from the safety of the stool, the nylon around his neck took her weight as she levitated like magic off the ground six feet in front of him.

Her panic was finally gone. There was no more kicking or flailing. When she rose now, it was dreamlike. The Rush saturated his soul, and the image of her floating in midair enraptured his mind. He took her weight as long as he could bear, bringing himself to the brink of unconsciousness and to the edge of ecstasy. He closed his eyes briefly. So tempting was the lure to continue toward the high, but he knew the dangers of allowing himself to wander too far down that lurid path. To travel too long on its trail would prevent return. Still, he couldn’t resist.

With the nylon tight against his throat,

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Some Choose Darkness. Charlie Donlea

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