Taken (Second Sight) Read Online Free PDF Page B

body went rigid.  
    Though her eyes were open, they looked through him, completely unfocused. Her diaphragm sucked in and out at a furious rate as Isabelle panted through parted lips. Suddenly, she sucked in a huge lungful of air.
    Prentiss braced himself for the moment he’d prepared for, even dreamt of, ever since Esme.
    Isabelle screamed–a wretched and high-pitched wail torn from the very core of her.
    Her back arched violently. The handcuffs rattled. And the chains creaked as the most exquisite sound he had ever heard seemed to never end. His ears literally rang with it. His body vibrated with it. A wild thrill shot through him, just as Isabelle heaved in another lungful of air. Then, Prentiss did something he’d never done before. He placed his free hand against her throat just as she screamed again.
    Oh god . It was lovely. He could feel it, feel everything, the terror, the pain. It was ecstasy .

CHAPTER FIVE

    The control room on the seventeenth floor of the Federal Building in Westwood was crowded. Mac looked around at the anxious faces, the chatter and heated discussions a dull roar. The bomb squad had quickly determined that a refillable mortar of fireworks had been set off in the bathroom on the eighth floor. It’d been so damn simple Mac had almost laughed– almost .
    And the audacity.
    Mac clenched his jaw.
    The Chameleon had struck quickly and right in their own backyard. It was more than being cocky. It bordered on suicidal.  
    “All right, everybody,” Mac yelled over the din. “Quiet down. Quiet down. ” He waited a few moments. “I need your attention , people.”
    Slowly, quiet settled over the group.
    “Let’s go around the room and see what we’ve got,” Mac said, standing in front of the large glass board. A photo of each victim ran across the top and, beneath each, was a column of data related to them. Isabelle’s photo now occupied a space at far right.
    “Sergeant Dixon,” Mac said.  
    Dixon stood up from the desk he’d been sitting on and read from his notepad.  
    “Nothing from hospitals,” he reported. “If the Chameleon was treated for an injury to the knee, it wasn’t in the county of L.A. Records searches were variable but some went back to the 1980s.” He looked up at Mac. “But no hits. We knew it was a long shot.”
    “What about the glove prints?”
    Dixon shook his head. The prints that the Chameleon had left on the surgical instruments he’d used on Angela had transferred to a scalpel directly through the thin latex of his glove.
    “No hits,” the sergeant said. “He doesn’t have a criminal record, a registered gun, or had a security clearance or been in any database.”
    “All right,” Mac said nodding. “No help there.” He made a note on the glass board. “Ben?”
    Though Ben was technically a number of grades above Mac, this was Mac’s investigation. Ben was handling the coordination with Quantico.
    “No results yet on the foreign matter found on Angela’s body,” Ben said. “The lab is still trying to match it.” Mac made another note on the board. “They’ve finished their digital mock up though,” Ben continued, pointing to the fax sheet taped to the bottom right corner of the board.  
    “That should be on everybody’s cell phones,” Mac said, staring at it for the hundredth time. Did it seem familiar? “I also want it at airports, train stations, bus stops and every federal facility. I don’t think the Chameleon is going anywhere any time soon but the more places it can be seen, the better. Who can take care of that?”
    A voice piped up from the back–a female agent that Mac recognized but didn’t know.
    “I got that,” she said, making a note.
    “Good,” Mac said. “Security footage?”
    A male agent, completely gray, sitting in a rolling chair at the front spoke up.
    “We’re going through it,” he said, a toothpick clenched at the side of his mouth. “There’s… a lot .”
    “Right,” Mac said.  
    Throngs