Ark of Fire Read Online Free PDF Page B

the back door, she stepped inside her kitchen.
    Spirulina. Barley grass. Psyllium husks. She took one look at her kitchen countertop and the neatly lined-up containers of vile-tasting health concoctions that were supposed to ensure a long life, and bitterly laughed aloud. Such precautions were a wasted effort if the Grim Reaper, dressed in a gray janitor’s uniform, came a-calling.
    Although she wanted to stuff her face with Häagen-Dazs ice cream, she couldn’t afford the luxury of emotionally collapsing. She had to quickly gather her things and get out. Before they found her. Before they did to her what they’d done to Jonathan Padgham.
    Edie snatched a canvas grocery tote from the wooden peg on the back of the kitchen door. Bag in hand, she opened the freezer, removing a box of spinach. Not bothering to open the box, she tossed it into the canvas bag. Having learned at a tender age the importance of keeping a ready cash supply on hand, she always kept three thousand dollars hidden in the freezer.
    Money stowed, she grabbed a vintage motorcycle jacket from the next peg. Pulling off her bloodstained khaki fisherman’s vest, she stuffed it into the bag. Hurriedly she donned the jacket.
    Next she strode down the hall into the small home office she maintained in the front of the house. Yanking open a file cabinet, she thumbed through the dog-eared files until she found the one marked Personal Documents . Inside was her passport, her birth certificate, the title to the house, the results of her last Pap smear, and an official copy of her college transcripts. She unceremoniously dumped the contents of the file into the canvas tote bag.
    About to head upstairs to gather her toiletries, Edie stopped in midmotion. Peering through the window, she saw a dark blue Crown Victoria pull up to the front of the house. Behind the wheel was the buzz-cut killer. At his side, the dirty cop.
    Quickly she ducked away from the window.
    They must have found the purse that she’d left in her office cubicle.
    Knowing she had only a few seconds to escape through the back door, Edie closed the file cabinet. She then slung the canvas bag over her shoulder and retreated to the kitchen, where she grabbed her BlackBerry out of its charger. She then snatched a set of keys out of the brightly colored ceramic fruit bowl, a souvenir from a fun-filled vacation in Morocco.
    Keys in hand, she let herself out the back door, taking a second to lock the deadbolt. She didn’t want anyone to know she’d been on the premises. She then tiptoed down the circular staircase that led to the alley below. She paused a moment, listening. She heard Spanish music emanating from the apartment building opposite. But no voices. So far, so good.
    Not knowing how long her luck would last, Edie sidestepped her neighbor’s parked Jeep Wrangler and hurried up the adjoining set of stairs to the same neighbor’s house. Garrett was in Chicago on business. He was frequently in Chicago on business. And when he was, she watered his plants and fed his cat. Good friends, they each kept a set of keys to the other’s house.
    Grateful for the well-oiled lock, she opened the back door and rushed inside, ignoring the huge marmalade cat asleep on the kitchen counter. She then ran down the hall to the living room, taking up a position at the double-hung window that overlooked the street.
    Standing in the crease of a full-length velvet drapery, she pulled back the purple fabric a scant half inch, giving herself a sliver of a peephole.
    The two men were already out of the Crown Vic, the cop halfway to her front stoop.
    Edie held her breath as he banged on the door.
    “Open up! D.C. police!”
    When he got no response, he banged again.
    Then he did exactly what Edie expected him to do—he unlocked her front door using the house keys they’d undoubtedly found at the museum.
    Because the two residences shared a common wall, Edie could hear the soft reverberations as the cop charged up her