Die Again Read Online Free PDF

one.
    With a gloved finger she pressed PLAY .
    November three, nine fifteen A.M. :… and if you call immediately, we can lower your credit card rates. Don’t miss this opportunity to take advantage of this special offer .
    November six, two P.M. : Hey, Leon, you never got back to me about the trip to Colorado. Let me know if you want to join us. Should be a good time .
    November 3 was a Monday, today was a Thursday. That first message was still on the machine, unplayed, because at nine on Monday morning, Leon Gott was probably dead.
    “Jane?” said Maura. The gray tabby had followed her into the hallway and was weaving figure of eights between her legs.
    “There’s blood on this answering machine,” said Jane, turning to look at her. “Why would the perp touch it? Why would he check the victim’s messages?”
    “Come see what Frost found in the backyard.”
    Jane followed her into the kitchen and out the back door. In a fenced yard landscaped only with patchy grass stood an outbuilding with metal siding. Too big to be just a storage shed, the windowless structure looked large enough to hide any number of horrors. As Jane stepped inside, she smelled a chemical odor, alcohol-sharp. Fluorescent bulbs cast the interior in a cold, clinical glare.
    Frost stood beside a large worktable, studying a fearsome-lookingtool bolted to it. “I thought at first this was a table saw,” he said. “But this blade doesn’t look like any saw I’ve ever come across. And those cabinets over there?” He pointed across the workshop. “Take a look at what’s inside them.”
    Through the glass cabinet doors, Jane saw boxes of latex gloves and an array of frightening-looking instruments laid out on the shelves. Scalpels and knives, probes and pliers and forceps. Surgeon’s tools . Hanging from wall hooks were rubber aprons, splattered with what looked like bloodstains. With a shudder, she turned and stared at the plywood worktable, its surface scarred with nicks and gouges, and saw a clump of congealed, raw meat.
    “Okay,” Jane murmured. “Now I’m freaking out.”
    “This is like a serial killer’s workshop,” said Frost. “And this table is where he sliced and diced the bodies.”
    In the corner was a fifty-gallon white barrel mounted to an electrical motor. “What the hell is that thing for?”
    Frost shook his head. “It looks big enough to hold …”
    She crossed to the barrel. Paused as she spotted red droplets on the floor. A smear of it streaked the hatch door. “There’s blood all around here.”
    “What’s inside the barrel?” said Maura.
    Jane gave the fastening bolt a hard pull. “And behind door number two is …” She peered into the open hatch. “Sawdust.”
    “That’s all?”
    Jane reached into the barrel and sifted through the flakes, stirring up a cloud of wood dust. “Just sawdust.”
    “So we’re still missing the second victim,” said Frost.
    Maura went to the nightmarish tool that Frost had earlier thought was a table saw. As she examined the blade, the cat was at her heels again, rubbing against her pant legs, refusing to leave her alone. “Did you get a good look at this thing, Detective Frost?”
    “I got as close as I wanted to get.”
    “Notice how this circular blade has a cutting edge that’s bent sideways? Obviously this isn’t meant for slicing.”
    Jane joined her at the table and gingerly touched the blade edge. “This thing looks like it’d rip you to shreds.”
    “And that’s probably what it’s for. I think it’s called a flesher. It’s used not to cut but to grind away flesh.”
    “They make a machine like that?”
    Maura crossed to a closet and opened the door. Inside was a row of what looked like paint cans. Maura reached for one large container and turned it around to read the contents. “Bondo.”
    “An automotive product?” said Jane, glimpsing the image of a car on the label.
    “The label says it’s filler, for car body work. To repair dings and