Free Never Fear by Scott Frost Page A

asked.
    He appeared to study the name as if it were suspended in midair in front of him, then his eyes focused and he turned to me.
    â€œSomething’s happened, hasn’t it?”
    I nodded. Hazzard waited for me to add more to the admission than a nod of the head.
    â€œHis son was found shot to death on the banks of the L.A. River,” I said.
    â€œWhere on the river?”
    â€œA few hundred yards north of the Fletcher Bridge.”
    The location clearly struck a chord with him and for an instant he appeared lost in memory.
    â€œThat’s Northeast division. Why is Pasadena interested? ”
    â€œLAPD thinks it’s a suicide.”
    â€œAnd you don’t. Why?”
    â€œManning’s son worked for a lawyer named Gavin,” I said.
    Hazzard began massaging the back of his neck as if he had to ease the name out of the past.
    â€œGavin was Manning’s lawyer.”
    I nodded.
    â€œHave you talked to him?”
    â€œHe died in a car accident the same day as Manning. ”
    Hazzard got up from the table and looked out the window.
    â€œWe found the first victim, a twenty-two-year-old named Jenny Roberts, by the Fletcher Bridge.”
    He turned and walked over to the box containing the files and began riffling through it until he found what he was looking for, and then he placed a file in front of me. I opened it up to an eight-by-ten glossy, the kind actors use for auditions, of a beautiful young woman with shoulder-length hair, smiling at the camera.
    The lines at the corners of Hazzard’s eyes deepened as he stared at the picture. Lines that I imagined weren’t there before he had seen her for the first time lying dead next to the river.
    â€œTry forgetting that face,” Hazzard said.
    â€œWhat did you have on Manning?” Harrison asked.
    Hazzard rummaged through the box again and removed another file.
    â€œA month before she was killed, she filed a complaint against Manning alleging she had been sexually assaulted by him after an acting class he taught.”
    â€œWas he questioned in the assault?” I asked.
    â€œYeah. He was interviewed but there wasn’t enough evidence to support an arrest.”
    â€œThat’s not enough for you to have arrested him on a murder charge,” Harrison said.
    â€œThere were other complaints against him, similar incidents; he was a real piece of work. But he was never charged with anything. They’re all in that box.”
    â€œBut that’s not why you arrested him,” I said.
    He shook his head.
    â€œHe knew one of the other victims?” I asked.
    Hazzard nearly smiled, though he seemed unaccustomed to it.
    â€œChavez said you were a good detective,” Hazzard said. “The second victim also took an acting class from him.”
    He tossed the folder onto the table in front of me.
    â€œIt’s all there, everything you want to know about Thomas Manning. And it will get you exactly what we got: nothing.”
    â€œWas there a connection between Manning and the third victim?” I asked.
    He shook his head. “Not a goddamn thing.”
    I stared at the folder for a moment as if it were the family album I never had.
    â€œWas Manning the only arrest you made?” Harrison asked.
    Hazzard nodded. “We had a possible witness to the killings, but he died.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œHe was a transient. We questioned him on two occasions. A week later he was beaten to death in the rail yards east of downtown.”
    I picked up the file on my father as another helicopter roared overhead.
    â€œDid you question Manning about the transient?”
    He shook his head. “Manning disappeared. We never found him.”
    â€œAnd then the murders stopped,” Harrison said.
    Hazzard nodded.
    â€œDo you believe he’s alive?”
    â€œI’ll believe he’s alive until the day I see him lying on a slab.”
    â€œI’d like to take the files with