The Echo Man
Richard Montanari
Published by William Heinemann 2011
2468 10 97531
Copyright © Richard Montanari 2011
Richard Montanari has asserted hisright under the Copyright, Designs
and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author ofthis work.
This book is a work of fiction. Namesand characters are the product of the
author's imagination and any resemblance to actualpersons, living or dead, is
entirelycoincidental.
This book is sold subject to thecondition that it shall not, by way of trade or
otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwisecirculated without the
publisher's priorconsent in any form of binding or cover other than that in
which it is publishedand without a similar condition, including this condition,
being imposed on thesubsequent purchaser.
First published in Great Britain in2011 by
William Heinemann
Random House, 20Vauxhall Bridge Road,
London SW1V 2SA
www.rbooks.co.uk
Addresses for companies within TheRandom House Group Limited can be
found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk/offices.htm
The Random House Group Limited Reg. No.954009
A CIP catalogue record for this book
is available from the British Library
HB ISBN 9780434018918
TPB ISBN 9780434018925
MAN
All seems evil until I
Sleepless would lie down and die.
ECHO
Lie down and die.
- William Butler Yeats
Man and the Echo
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
PROLOGUE
Forevery light there is shadow. For every sound, silence.
Fromthe moment he got the call Detective Kevin Francis Byrne had a premonition thisnight would forever change his life, that he was headed to a place marked by aprofound evil, leaving only darkness in its wake.
'Youready?'
Byrneglanced at Jimmy. Detective Jimmy Purify, sitting in the passenger seat of thebashed and battered department-issue Ford, was just a few years older thanByrne, but something in the man's eyes held deep wisdom, a hard-won experiencethat transcended time spent on the job and spoke instead of time earned. They'dknown each other a long time, but this was their first full tour as partners.
'I'mready,' Byrne said.
Hewasn't.
They gotout of the car and walked to the front entrance of the sprawling, well-tendedChestnut Hill mansion. Here, in this exclusive section of the northwest part ofthe city, there was history at every turn, a neighborhood designed at a timewhen Philadelphia was second only to London as the largest English-speakingcity in the world.
Thefirst officer on the scene, a rookie named Timothy Meehan, stood inside thefoyer, cloistered by coats and hats and scarves perfumed with age, just beyondthe reach of the cold autumn wind cutting across the grounds.
Byrnehad been in Officer Meehan's shoes a handful of years earlier and rememberedwell how he'd felt when detectives arrived, the tangle of envy and relief andadmiration. Chances were slight that Meehan would one day do the job Byrne wasabout to do. It took a certain breed to stay in the trenches, especially in acity like Philly, and most uniformed cops, at least the smart ones, moved on.
Byrnesigned the crime-scene log and stepped into the warmth of the atrium, taking inthe sights, the sounds, the smells. He would never again enter this scene forthe first time, never again breathe an air so red with violence. Looking intothe kitchen, he saw a blood-splattered killing room, scarlet murals on pebbledwhite tile, the torn flesh of the victim jigsawed on the floor.
WhileJimmy called for the medical examiner and crime-scene unit, Byrne walked to theend of the entrance hall. The officer standing there was a veteran patrolman, aman of fifty, a man content to live without ambition. At that moment Byrneenvied him. The cop nodded toward the room on the other side of the corridor.
Andthat was when Kevin Byrne heard the music.
Shesat in a chair on the opposite side of the room. The walls were covered with aforest-green silk; the floor with an exquisite burgundy Persian. The furniturewas sturdy, in the Queen Anne style. The air smelled of jasmine and leather.
Byrneknew the room had been cleared, but he scanned every inch of it anyway. In onecorner stood an antique curio case with beveled glass doors, its shelvesarrayed with small porcelain figurines. In another corner leaned a beautifulcello. Candlelight shimmered on its golden surface.
Thewoman was slender and elegant, in her late twenties. She had burnished russethair down to her shoulders, eyes the color of soft copper. She wore a longblack gown, sling-back heels, pearls. Her makeup was a bit garish - theatrical,some might say - but it flattered her delicate features, her lucent skin.
WhenByrne stepped fully into the room the woman looked his way, as if she had beenexpecting him, as if he might be a guest for Thanksgiving dinner, somediscomfited cousin just in from Allentown or Ashtabula. But he was neither. Hewas there to arrest her.