Entropy Read Online Free

the photographer appear to take pleasure in his odd esotericism. When he signaled that he was finished, I zipped up my suit and watched the detectives and forensic team stare at me from the edge of the pool. I stepped down the ladder in the shallow end, paused where the ground sloped downwards, and closed my eyes. I should have turned back.
    The pool seemed deeper than it actually was in the dull light. Like the rest of the yard, it had suffered from neglect, and the walls looked like faded copper. I followed the concrete slope into the deep end. The girl wore an indigo dress. Petite, dark shoes covered her feet. A dark, purple ribbon struggled to break free from her hair. She looked like she had fallen out of the frame of a painting. All of it should have been beautiful. Water gently swirled around the crown of my head when I moved under to see if anything obstructed her. There was little room underneath where she floated. I prodded my hand around the bottom of the pool after being told to look for any kind of instrument that might have been disposed of. I wanted her to have drowned. I flexed my knees and secured the body inside my arms. I was surprised at how heavy she was. After ascending the incline back towards the ladder, I handed her body over and went back down into the water, although I wasn’t sure why. Moving a flashlight back and forth I checked the edges of the pool. The only things displaced in the water besides me were the shells of some cicadas and several petals of a flower.
    Body Number Two (February): Timothy Reisbaugh, 9 years old. Was discovered in a shallow, man-made fishing pond at the edge of the only playground area for miles, Conemaugh Park. Some children who were going ice-fishing discovered the body. Most of the time, kids just played ice hockey there when the pond froze over and the ice was thick enough for anyone not to fall through. The preliminary autopsy showed discernible patterns similar to the trauma inflicted on the first child I had pulled from the water around a month earlier. Yet no one was willing to state categorically that the cases were connected without any concrete physical evidence. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much progress in the first case. There were still no suspects. There wasn’t even a person of interest, once the parents had been ruled out. No one who lived in the area around the park remembered seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary.
    I used to fish like them; almost all of the kids in the neighborhood did when I was growing up. My father used to call it “poor fishing”. Our families were mostly lower middle class, so our parents couldn’t afford to buy us actual rods and reels, so we made do with what surrounded us. I remembered raiding my best friend’s garage, looking for broken garden rakes or shovels that we could cut off at the handles. Even if some of the parents had the money, they were smart enough to understand that in a few months’ time, or when the pond froze all the way through, the poles would be discarded and left to rot at the back of the garage. Our attention was always diverted from one idea or product to the next. The patience just wasn’t there. It would have been a complete waste to have spent decent money on boots, hooks and bait anyway, because none of us ever really caught anything from the pond; and thankfully, none of us caught anything like what those kids caught on that Sunday.
    When I drove up to the edge of the creek basin that drained into the pond, my car tire rolled over and broke some of the makeshift fishing poles that had been left on the dirt path. A few of the kids who had alerted the police to the body were wrapped in blankets but one of them had been taken to the emergency room when he went into shock. It’s a frightening experience, seeing the corpse of a human being, especially that of a child. It’s not something that could be forgotten or dismissed, especially one that had