The Last Victim Read Online Free PDF

teaching her these gestures. But now they came to her naturally. She wondered if perhaps they’d been there all along—and Brad had just labeled them—or had she become a bit of a political phony herself?
    “I was so sorry to hear about Olivia, Mrs. Rankin,” she whispered.
    “Thank you,” Olivia’s mother said, with a raspy voice. “You know, I recognized you the minute I saw you, Bridget. Whenever you’re on TV, I tell my friend Rosemary, ‘That’s Bridget and Brad Corrigan. They were good friends of my Olivia.’ ” She glanced around. “Where’s Brad?”
    “Oh, I’m sorry, Brad couldn’t make it,” Bridget said. “But he sends his condolences. We’re both so sorry about—what happened.”
    Mrs. Rankin sighed, and her eyes welled up with tears. “I—I simply don’t understand. I was just talking with Olivia a little over a week ago, and she said everything was fine. It doesn’t make any sense that she’d take her own life.”
    Bridget squeezed Mrs. Rankin’s hand. What do you tell a mother who has just lost her only child? Why didn’t Brad ever tutor her in that?
    Then someone else approached them. “Thank you for coming all this way, Bridget,” Mrs. Rankin said.
    Bridget nodded and stepped aside. As she turned away, she suddenly locked eyes with a tall man she didn’t recognize. He was handsome, with a pale complexion and black hair. He wore a blue blazer, black tie, and khakis. He smiled—just slightly. Had she seen him somewhere before? Did she know him? His direct gaze and that smile seemed almost impertinent. Bridget numbly stared back at the man and watched his smile fade.
    “Bridget Corrigan?” she heard someone say.
    She turned and saw someone who was undeniably familiar. “Fuller Sterns?”
    But Fuller Sterns’s goofy-cute face was about the only thing that looked the same from when they were in high school together. His long, wild, uncombed brown hair was now trimmed short around the sides and back—and receding badly. Fuller had been a loud, husky teenager—with a voracious appetite for beer, junk food, pot, and pranks. Now he was a pale, overweight man in a dark gray suit.
    “Bridget,” he said, approaching her. “Christ, you look exactly the same!”
    “You too!” she lied. She hoped he was lying as well, because she’d spent her high school years feeling plain, unattractive, and robbed-in-the-womb of good looks by her twin brother.
    She gave Fuller an awkward hug, then pulled back to look at him. “Thanks for telling me about Olivia. I got your phone message just yesterday. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you back.”
    “I left a message with Brad too. I didn’t hear back from him either.”
    She gave him a tight smile. “So—how’ve you been? Are you married?”
    Fuller rolled his eyes. “Twice burned, and up to my neck in alimony payments. You ain’t gonna see me head down the aisle again soon, no, thanks. I’m in finance, and the ex-wives spend it almost quicker than I can make it. Otherwise, I’m hangin’ in there.”
    Grinning, Fuller looked her up and down. “I don’t have to ask about you. I live across the river in Vancouver and get the Portland TV stations. You and Brad are always on the news. Sorry I can’t vote for him, but tell that son of a bitch he has a fan in Washington State. He isn’t here, is he?”
    “No, Brad couldn’t make it. Has anyone else from our graduating class shown up?”
    Fuller frowned. “If they have, they’re invisible, because I haven’t seen them. And I’ve been here since this thing started.” He shrugged. “Then again, it’s been twenty years since graduation. A lot of people have moved away, lost touch.”
    “Had you seen Olivia recently?” she asked.
    Fuller quickly shook his head. “No, I—huh, no. I haven’t seen Olivia in years.”
    “But you knew that she’d died,” Bridget said.
    “Yeah, well, I—I just caught the obituary, that’s all.”
    Eyes narrowed, Bridget stared at Fuller.