Her Last Chance Read Online Free PDF Page B

award-winning smile and sipped delicately from a cup of coffee
Special Agent Sam Walker had fetched her—in a china cup, no less.
    She had that effect on men.
    Long blond hair was tied into a
messy knot on top of her head. Her lips were pink and sweetly bowed, her face
pretty enough to make you believe any lie you told yourself to justify those
unprofessional thoughts about getting her naked.
    He hadn’t realized exactly how
badly he’d missed the irrational, foul-mouthed vixen until he’d seen her again.
And it was galling to know that this woman, who loathed him with a passion, was
the only one he wanted in his bed.
    He rubbed the muscles jammed tight
in his neck.
    “So why didn’t you mention that
this man cut you?” Walker asked, placing a hand on her elbow, trying to inspire
trust. Mr. Benevolent . Playing good cop to Agent Nicholl’s scowling bad
cop.
    Studying her closely, Marsh saw
Josephine freeze for that fraction of a second before she laughed
self-deprecatingly and forced herself to relax. She put both hands flat on the
table in front of her, probably to stop her body language giving her away when
she lied her ass off.
    If they thought they were going to
get anything out of her this way, they were as dumb as she made herself look.
    “I didn’t even know he’d cut me,
until Marsh, Agent Hayes…” Her voice grew husky and she glanced at the mirror,
“…flashed you all like that.”
    Color crept into her cheeks and he
frowned. Everything about Josephine’s façade was highly polished deceit except her embarrassment about those scars. They weren’t pretty, but unfortunately,
they weren’t a turn off either.
    His cell phone buzzed against his
hipbone.
    “Dancer, what have you got for me?”
God help him, he still had an art-theft investigation to run.
    “Philip and Gloria Faraday are
siblings. Born in England,” Dancer reeled off. “Parents deceased. No police
record, no suspicion of dealing under the table.” He gave a big yawn that
reminded Marsh it was well after midnight.
    The one-way glass was smeared with
handprints and the effect was like looking through a soft focus lens. Josephine
made a big show of checking her statement. Sentence by sentence as the agents
quizzed her. Walker leaned over her like some proprietary wolf and Marsh
gritted his teeth.
    Dancer carried on. “The lab agreed
to send a crime scene tech to us because of the unusual circumstances. Once
they’re done, Aiden can examine it for authenticity and get the paint analyzed.
There aren’t any field agents available to help out at the gallery. The SAC
said tonight’s homicide got priority.”
    Marsh had no problem with that.
Human life was more important than art or money and this case had been cold for
years. “Go back to the hotel and get some sleep. I’ll meet you at the gallery
at nine to interview the Faradays again. See if we can shake something coherent
out of Gloria this time.”
    “Is it true this serial killer
attacked Josephine Maxwell?” Dancer asked.
    Marsh sighed. They’d worked
together for years and Steve Dancer knew him better than anyone. Dancer also
knew Marsh and Josephine had shared one night of sex that had led to
deep-seated mistrust on both sides.
    “Yeah. He killed another woman in
her apartment building, and then attacked Josephine in the lobby. Lucky for her
they were interrupted and he fled the scene.”
    Lucky…
    Clamping his molars together, Marsh
fought the urge to retch. The bastard had actually cut her; he’d had his hands
on her flesh and it was a miracle she wasn’t dead.
    Shit .
    There was a long beat of silence on
the other end of the line.
    “But how did you know? In the
bullpen…” Dancer cleared his throat. “I mean the way you ran out of here when
you saw those pictures…how did you know?” One of Dancer’s greatest strengths
was uncovering classified information, but Marsh had never told anyone about
Josephine’s scars. Tomorrow, he’d be lucky if they weren’t