Serial Date: A Leine Basso Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page A

He shook his head. Apparently, the all-American guy wasn't cutting it for the modern American woman.
    Bronkowski made them all sign a waiver that explained who they'd be working with and that the show couldn't be held responsible for anything that happened outside the confines of the studio. He'd been floored when Bronkowski told him maybe one out of fifty contestants opted not to sign.
    Putnam was certain Graber did the deed, but Jensen wasn't so sure. To add to everything, there was mounting pressure from above. Murders were up twelve percent in the city of Los Angeles alone. The Mayor and the City Council had been climbing all over the Chief's ass to bring the numbers down. Departments were stretched tight.
    Election years sucked.
    Jensen thought about Leine Basso, the woman Bronkowski hired to beef up security. Her most recent gig had been working as an insurance investigator. He'd read something in her file about doing security for a couple of government hacks, but Jensen got the feeling if he dug a little deeper, he'd find out a lot more about Ms. Basso.
    She'd been married briefly to a successful businessman named Frank Basso, but ended up dumping him. Jensen wondered why she'd leave such a dick gig. Huge house in Bel Air. Influential friends. Bi-annual trips to Vegas, Europe, New York. Most women he knew would climb over the bodies of their dead grandmothers to snag a rich husband like Frank, and it intrigued him.
    She carried herself the way his buddies in Special Forces did; relaxed and calm on the exterior, like nothing could phase her. Jensen sensed another kind of tension in her, more emotional, one that pulled at the calm exterior. She exuded mystery.
    And he really wanted to fuck her.
    “Hey Santa.” Putnam tapped him on the shoulder, breaking into his thoughts. “They got some kind of letter down at the freak show. Bronkowski sounded pretty messed up.”
    Sighing, Jensen slid Amanda Milton's file in the desk drawer and grabbed his badge.
    Showtime.
     
    ***
     
    “There. It's right there.” Peter Bronkowski jabbed his finger at the offending piece of paper on his desk. “Fuck. He's going to do it again, isn't he?”
    Jensen slid on a pair of latex gloves before he picked up the letter and read the wandering manifesto. When he finished, he handed it to Putnam and gave Bronkowski his serious, calm look. Putnam finished reading and stepped back, remaining quiet.
    “We're doing everything we can, Mr. Bronkowski. He won't be able to get to any of the other contestants, not now.” Security was tight. The contestants couldn't visit the toilet without a shadow. Luckily, the women lived together in a house a few blocks away from the set while taping the show, so it would be easy to keep an eye on them all. Especially since the house was already wired with cameras everywhere except the bathrooms.
    Jensen re-scanned parts of the letter, looking for something that might give him answers to the writer's identity. The letter went on at length about how watching reality shows and eating factory farmed meat killed off people's brain cells and made everyone stupid and fat. The loss of intelligence would be devastating to the country's brain-trust as a whole. According to the author, this couldn't be tolerated.
    The obvious remedy was to foster public awareness by eating younger, free-range meat that hadn't experienced the long term, adverse effects of heavy metals and toxins absorbed from the environment. Although, not too young. The author preferred some seasoning to his protein, and referenced Ms. Milton as a prime example.
    Enter Serial Date, the perfect outlet for his protest. His reason being if he culled the contestants from the most offensive show, it would bring attention to the plight of the television-watching public. As an added bonus, the contestants, being healthy and fit specimens, allowed him to make his point succinctly, while exercising his right to enjoy a healthy, delicious meal. He apologized for not