Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Street…two lights up.” She pointed out the direction. “Just take a right when you pull out of here, and then take a left on Chester. It’s about a half mile from there, on the left.”
    Jordon had been with the U.S. Marshals Service for ten years, part of a special division established in association with the FBI in pursuit of the most dangerous individuals—the worst of the worst. He’d spent the last two years hot on the trail of a killer, and that continuing hunt had now led him to Jackson County, Wisconsin—a tranquil region of several close-knit, small towns. He took pride in his tracking expertise and was positive that the recent murder victim named in the article lying before him—Louisa Jaffler—was yet another of the many unfortunate souls left in the wake of his fugitive’s killing spree. There were several instances when he’d come close to nabbing the monster, but the killer had proved himself to be of unusual intelligence and had slipped through his fingers each time.
    In his mid-forties, Jordon was dauntless. Not at all the stereotypical image one might have of a Deputy U.S. Marshal. His predominantly brown hair held a scattering of gray. Long and untamed, he kept it pulled back and leashed behind him with a strap. He didn’t own a suit, more comfortable outside the office, chasing down the bad guys. More often than not, his work attire consisted of worn jeans and cowboy boots. But just so no one could say he wasn’t professional, he’d toss on a dress coat.
    Gathering his things, he left a tip on the table and headed for the register to pay his bill. His Lucchese boots made a dull thud each time they struck the solid wood floor as he strode across it in a manner that told the world just how confident and determined a man he was.
    Following the waitress’s directions to the station, he arrived in mere minutes, parked, and went inside. Two officers talked behind a chest-high counter.
    “I’d better get going.” One officer got up to leave.
    “I’ll see you later, Bob,” the other man said, and then turned toward Jordon.
    “Good day, officer. I’d like to see the sheriff in regard to the recent murder.”
    “Sheriff Pierson is out right now,” the officer, whose nametag read ‘Chuck Gantt,’ informed him. “Hold on and I’ll take a message.” He pulled a pencil from over his ear, breaking the lead the instant it touched the paper. “Dagnabbit,” he fumbled for something else to write with, making a total mess of the paperwork on the counter.
    Jordon, thinking the officer to be a simpleton by his appearance and clumsy actions, proceeded to pump him for information.
    “So, Chuck,” Jordon spoke as if he’d known the man his whole life. “I read about the murder…hear it happened nearby, in Hixton, I believe.”
    The man bit the first line he threw.
    “Yeah, that’s right, over at Jaffler Farm—the family raises thoroughbreds. The victim lived there with her husband and sister-in-law.”
    The officer blabbed away without the least bit of caution, having no idea who Jordon was. It apparently hadn’t occurred to him to ask, proving Jordon’s initial impression to be an accurate one.
    The young man continued, “They found her body just past the farm entrance on Old Denaud Road, at the edge of the woods. We assume she was taking a late night walk when the killer attacked her. However, there’s some dispute on that theory.”
    “Dispute by whom?”
    “The husband,” the officer told him. “He claimed she never took walks after nightfall. To quote his exact words, ‘she was afraid of the dark…never went out alone after the fall of night’.”
    “Really?” Jordon raised his eyebrows in interest. “Afraid of the dark?”
    “That being the case, you can’t help but wonder what led her out on that road all alone and so late at night. It just doesn’t fit.”
    “It sure doesn’t,” Jordon agreed. “Tell me, Chuck, were there any witnesses to the murder?” he