Eater of Lives(SPECTR #4) Read Online Free PDF

Why
did the guy have to sit next to him?
    John would say he was just paranoid. And
maybe John had a point. But it didn’t make Caleb feel any less
creeped out by Forsyth.
    “Now,” Forsyth said, taking his seat, “I
pulled rank and had the analysis of Lynch’s computer
prioritized.”
    John whipped out a pad of paper and a pencil,
ready to take notes. Caleb barely managed not to roll his eyes.
Forsyth, on the other hand, gave John an approving nod.
    “Shortly before he disappeared,” Forsyth
began, consulting the printout in his folder, “Lynch met up with a
woman going by the name of Veronica Smith on an online dating site.
They exchanged a series of emails over the next few days, before
agreeing to meet up. Smith didn’t give her address, despite some
pressure from Lynch, and instead suggested they meet at a bar on
Broad St. Three days later, law enforcement found Lynch’s truck
abandoned in a nearby parking lot.”
    “What about the remains from yesterday?” Sean
asked. “Do we have an ID on them?”
    “Not yet,” John replied. “Looks like
questioning the staff at the bar is our best lead. We should also
consider walking through the neighborhood. If the killer is local,
and is really an NHE instead of a purely human killer, Gray might
be able to catch her scent.”
    “Good idea,” Forsyth said, closing the
folder. “Shall we, then?”

Chapter 4
     
    John parallel parked the SUV in front of the
bar where Lynch had agreed to meet his date—and possibly his death.
The building dated from the early 1800s, its bricks weathered from
countless storms. Heavy wooden beams framed the door and its
stained-glass transom, as well as the large windows looking out
onto the street. Although the “open” sign remained unlit, the staff
moved around inside, getting ready to greet the lunch crowd.
    The four men climbed out of the car. Caleb
seemed inclined to loiter, until he spotted Forsyth doing the same;
then he hurriedly joined John on the step in front of the bar’s
entrance. John pretended not to notice and knocked on the door.
    “We open at 11:30!” a man yelled back at him
through the door.
    John pulled out his badge and held it against
the glass panes. “SPECTR agents! I need to ask some questions.”
    The man paled slightly. “Just a minute,” he
said and disappeared into the back, probably to get the manager. A
few moments later, a woman unlocked the door and beckoned them
inside.
    John barked his shin on one of the tables
jammed into the narrow space between wall and kitchen before his
eyes had the chance to adjust to the bar’s dim lighting. The heavy
wood of the walls soaked up what little illumination came from the
wall sconces. The aroma of heating grease wafted from the kitchen
area, and chair legs banged against the floor as staffers removed
them from tables.
    “Special Agent John Starkweather, SPECTR,” he
introduced himself to the woman, holding out his badge for her
inspection.
    “Melody Witherspoon. I’m the manager on
duty.” She didn’t offer to shake his hand.
    “Ms. Witherspoon, we’re here investigating a
disappearance.” He pulled a printout of a recent picture of Lynch
from his coat pocket and passed it to her. “This is Roger Lynch. We
think he met someone here shortly before he disappeared. Do you
recognize him?”
    “No, but I don’t see all the customers.” Her
brow creased briefly in thought, before she turned toward the bar.
A thin man stood there, cutting up lemons and limes into wedges.
“Joe! You recognize this guy?”
    Joe took the printout. While he studied it,
several other staffers wandered over and peered over his shoulder.
“Shit, I don’t know,” Joe said. “We get a lot of tourists in here.
Is he a mal? That why you’re looking for him?”
    Caleb stiffened and shot Joe a dark look.
Seeing Caleb react to the slur took some of the edge off the bile
churning in John’s stomach. Caleb wasn’t quite lobbying for the
right to hold a pride march yet, but