The Fourth Victim Read Online Free PDF Page A

an abducted female held captive in a dark place.
    Whoa. I’d had a lucid thought. Hadn’t I?
    Sort of. Roosevelt had been president during the Great Depression and World War II. He’d introduced the New Deal.
    Assorted facts ran through my mind. They seemed important….
    Except I was too cold to concentrate. Was I going to freeze to death?
    I ached everywhere. The pounding in my head drowned out coherent thought. I’d never been in so much pain. Didn’t know the body could hurt so badly and still be alive.
    Tears squeezed through my closed eyelids when I tried to move my hand. It hit against something and I froze, afraid the noise would reverberate in the silence around me.
    Alert my captor.
    I was still alive for some reason.
    Was someone watching me? More than one someone? I stayed completely silent. I didn’t want them to know I was awake.
    Why was it so quiet? Shouldn’t there be outside noise?
    The blockade behind me seemed like a wall of some sort. With excruciating effort I moved my hand along the ground. An inch. Maybe two.
    Solid rock. Smooth rock.
    And I was exhausted. Just wanted to sleep. Sleep.
    If you sleep you’ll die.
    Had Roosevelt said that, too?
    No. That couldn’t be.
    Think, Kel. Think of Maggie. That girl needs you. More than she knows. She’s starting to trust you. She can’t afford to be let down again.
    Maggie. A child with so much promise. So much life ahead of her.
    I opened my eyes. Both of them.
    And waited for them to adjust to the blackness. My face felt swollen. I couldn’t tell if I was bloody or not.
    I was still bound. Still wearing my skates.
    And as I lay there, powerless and terrified, I wet my pants.
    Â 
    â€œLook, I’ve told you everything I know. Please, go out and find her….”
    Samantha Jones’s statement was just short of an order. With a raised eyebrow, Clay sat across from the couch the detective shared with her husband, Kyle Evans. Maggie was sitting on the edge of a recliner on the other side, holding a small poodle.
    â€œWe’re doing all we can, Detective,” he assured Samantha. “Forgive me for saying so, but you’re too closely associated with the situation for me to be sure you’ve told me everything you know. I might find something pertinent, the one clue I need, in some little fact you consider irrelevant.” Clay glanced at the fourteen-year-old blonde in jeans, a T-shirt and tennis shoes who had, as yet, to say a word. Even to ask a question.
    Kyle Evans took Samantha’s hand. Clay wasn’t writing that guy off as easily as his wife and the townsfolk appeared to have done. The guy was too quiet. In Clay’sexperience, the so-called strong, silent type usually had something to hide.
    Still, dogs were good judges of people and Kyle had a large one lying at his feet.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Detective Jones said, bowing her head and then raising it to look him in the eye. “This is just so hard. Kelly, she’s…she’s the one who takes care of everyone else. Anything I can do to help, I will. Anything.” Dressed in jeans and a button-down oxford shirt, the woman looked more like a teenager than the thirty-one-year-old he knew her to be.
    Clay, who more times than not was spot-on with his assessment of people, accepted her at face value.
    â€œTell me about this lawyer, David Abrams.”
    Maggie stiffened.
    â€œYou want facts or personal opinion?”
    â€œFacts first. And then opinion.”
    â€œHe grew up here. Graduated a few years ahead of Kelly and Kyle and me. He’s always been involved with the town. Has a reputation for being generous. And a sweet wife and four kids with another on the way. He seems to dote on them.”
    The teenager, staring at the floor, wrapped her arms around the small dog on her lap.
    â€œThe superlab bust was yours, right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat part did this Abrams guy