The Murder Game Read Online Free PDF Page B

Griff and Nic to discover that there are five victims and not just two?
    Despite their mutual animosity, Griffin Powell and Special Agent Baxter would join forces against him. Of course, that was exactly what he wanted them to do. They didn’t know it yet, but they were going to be major players in his new game.
    He suspected they would head for either Ballinger or Stillwater tomorrow, if they weren’t already on their way tonight. By now, they should have found out that a victim’s body was found in Ballinger yesterday and another in Stillwater nearly a month ago. Both women had died in the same manner and both had been displayed in an identical way—hung by their bound feet from a tree branch. And both women had been scalped.
    He supposed he could have taken the whole head, but preserving the entire head would have been a bother. Besides, he didn’t want to repeat anything he’d done in the game he’d played with Pinkie. He’d chopped off a couple of lovely heads during their delicious killing spree and the truly funny thing about that was he didn’t believe either of those murders had been counted among the Beauty Queen Killers’ victims. One of those kills had been early on before he and Pinkie had perfected their specific methods of murdering each woman according to her performance in the talent competition.
    Pudge whirled the swivel chair around and stared at the blank computer screen sitting atop the desk. If he kept to his self-imposed schedule, he had no time to lose. He had to choose his next quarry immediately. Tonight. Tomorrow at the latest. He had already narrowed down his choices. He chose only specimens in their prime, physically and mentally superior women who would make the hunt a challenge for him.
    He turned on the computer and opened the file he had been compiling for quite some time. One name stood out from all the rest. She would be his ultimate kill. The prize of a lifetime.
    Nicole Baxter.

Chapter 3
     
    All things considered, Nic had slept amazingly well. Griff had shown her to a guestroom. Large, elegant, and quite feminine. She’d wondered just how many other ladies had used this room over the years.
    When Sanders had brought her suitcase, he’d said, “If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
    “Thank you, I’ll be fine.”
    “Do you prefer to set your alarm clock for in the morning or would you like for me to wake you?” he’d asked.
    “Uh, I’ll set the alarm, but I forgot to ask Mr. Powell what time I should be ready.”
    “Breakfast will be served in the kitchen at seven in the morning,” Sanders had told her.
    Nic checked her wristwatch. It was now six forty-three AM . Last evening, she had set the alarm on the beside table for six. Following her usual morning routine, she had taken a shower, dried her hair, and put on clean underwear. She’d pulled her shoulder-length hair back into a loose bun and applied a minimum of makeup. Blush, lip gloss, and mascara. The clothes she had on today were not part of the daily “uniform” she wore for work. She was stuck with the clothes she had packed for a semisecluded vacation in the mountains. Her choice in apparel had been shorts, jeans, or the one skirt she had brought with her. She chose the jeans and topped them with a white short-sleeved pullover.
    Squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin, she resisted the urge to glance at herself in the cheval mirror she passed on her way to the door. She knew she was clean and presentable. That was enough.
    Once downstairs, she simply followed her nose. The aroma of coffee and cinnamon led her straight to the large, modern kitchen. After entering, she paused when she saw Sanders at the stove and Barbara Jean Hughes, in her wheelchair, buzzing around setting the table. Barbara Jean’s younger sister had been one of the BQ Killers’ victims, and Barbara Jean had been one of the few people who had gotten a glimpse of the killer as he left the scene. She