The small earphone was inserted in his right ear. He leaned across the desk and supported his head with both hands. His palms were clammy. The sound fidelity of the small machine centered on his desk filled him with wonder coupled with revulsion. The voices swirled around him. The man’s guttural commands were obscenely specific and were counterpointed by the girl’s occasional whimpers and cries. It was a descent into hell that evoked a montage of incidents he had witnessed over two decades of police service. If this were a film sequence, he would have averted his head and watched the images through peripheral vision, but sounds were more horrifying, since they created mental images more vivid than reality. The tape ended with a single shot. He removed the earphone and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Is it over?” the deferential voice asked from the chair in the darkened corner. He had completely forgotten Grossman’s presence. “Yes.” “Do you think it’s her? The one you’re investigating?”
