Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Dead Read Online Free PDF

How was she supposed to get over her unwanted attraction to him if he kept being so noble and so . . . perfect?
    Just remembering Casey’s words about how hard she’d worked to gain the respect of her peers in the FBI’s old boys’ network was enough to ground her again. He was right. She had worked hard. And her peers did respect her. She couldn’t throw that away by falling for a man so much younger than her. She could just imagine the teasing that would go on if the guys in the office ever found out. They’d probably leave stuffed cougars all over her desk, and everything she’d worked for would be destroyed.
    Thankfully there were no more unwelcome revelations to weaken her resolve before they reached Matt’s studio, a building the size of a two-car garage about fifty yards from the cabin. The doors resembled those on a barn, but instead of opening on hinges, they slid back on rails. Matt tucked his laptop under his arm and set Tessa’s briefcase down so he could push one of the doors back.
    Tessa picked up her briefcase and went inside, leaving Matt to close the door. The word studio described the space perfectly. It was one big, open room. A pair of sliding glass doors opened off the back, framing a lily pad–clogged pond, like a picture. A microwave oven sat on top of a miniature refrigerator in one corner, and an open door in another corner revealed a tiny bathroom.
    The center of the room was occupied by an enormous table, with a computer monitor sitting on top. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves sagged beneath the weight of books and boxes all along the back wall. Aside from the chairs pulled up to the table, there wasn’t any other furniture.
    “I take it my studio doesn’t have the appeal the cabin has.” Matt hooked the laptop to the monitor and powered them both up.
    “Uh, no. I mean, it’s fine.”
    “You don’t lie very well.” He smiled, took the briefcase from her again, and placed it on the table.
    His easy smile was a surprise. The Matt she remembered was always serious and didn’t say much. This older Matt seemed more comfortable in his own skin, confident, relaxed.
    “Do you mind?” He’d sat down and his hands were poised to click open her briefcase.
    “Of course not, go ahead.” She sat beside him.
    He pulled out the plastic bags, each one containing a letter and the envelope it had come in.
    “You brought the originals?” He sounded surprised.
    “I told Casey you wanted to see them, and that we should be accommodating since you were helping us out. As long as I keep them with me at all times, chain of custody isn’t broken.”
    “I’m sure there was a lot more to that conversation than you’re letting on. It couldn’t have been easy to convince him, but thanks. I appreciate it.”
    She nodded, feeling uncomfortable with his praise. She was used to fighting with him. She was not used to this almost friendly, polite, back-and-forth between them.
    “Can we take them out of the bags?” he asked.
    “One at a time, so we don’t mix up the envelopes. I’ve labeled them in the order in which they were received. The last one has the name Sharon Johnson on it.” She pulled out a pair of latex gloves for each of them from her briefcase.
    While Matt studied the letters, Tessa studied him. For a man who was over six feet tall with a muscular physique strengthened and honed by hard work at his family’s construction sites, he handled the letters with amazing gentleness. He studied each one, scanning every inch, as if the fibers that made up the paper could tell him something equally as important as the words written on the surface.
    “Have you identified the type of paper or performed any tests on these?” he asked.
    “My boss couldn’t justify the expense of using the FBI lab to perform the kinds of tests that might tell us the paper’s origin. Without proof of a ‘real’ crime, he’s not willing to spend the resources. So, the only tests we ran were to look for