Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(55)
Ten feet. Five. The mouth of the alley that she’d passed earlier yawned before her. Sam hurried inside.
A cat screeched and shot past her legs.
Dammit, dammit, dammit!
“She’s gone.” Max’s disgusted voice, and he didn’t even sound winded from the run. He stalked farther into the alley. “Shit, this connects to the main road. She probably went through here and back to her car.”
Sam’s nostrils flared as she caught the harsh scent of garbage, cigarettes, and crap that she didn’t even want to think about. A big garbage bin slumped to the right, its lid half closed.
A metal screech.
She took a few more steps forward. Another scent filled her nostrils. Heavier. Fresher.
“That bartender knows her,” Max said. “We need to go back inside and make her tell us where that woman lives!”
Sam’s eyes narrowed as she struggled to see in the thick darkness.
A car engine revved in the distance. Tires squealed. And a heavy ache lodged in her chest. “I know where she is.”
Max whirled back around to face her.
Shaking her head, Sam leaned forward. She knew the scent of blood. A sliver of light trickled down from a second story window. Light that fell on strands of blond hair.
Sam pulled out her phone and called Dante. When he answered, she said, “I’ve got a body.”
The killer’s foot pressed hard against the accelerator. Damn, but that had been close. He rolled down the window and let the cool air blast against his face.
Too close.
He’d planned to kill Veronica. Just not then, not there. But he’d been following that dick Ridgeway, and when the guy had gone in Express—time’s up.
Veronica was weak; he knew it. He’d used that weakness. If the Feds had gotten hold of her, she would have confessed and ruined everything.
He’d known that he had to move. And then sweet Veronica had run right to him. Good thing he’d been prepared for her.
The Feds were closing in faster than he’d anticipated. He had to be ready for them.
He stopped at the streetlight. He looked down and saw the blood staining his shirt. Veronica had died easily. No long, pain-filled death. Just a quick kill, with minimal pain. He figured she’d deserved that.
Poor Veronica. All her life she’d never been worth much.
But she’d sure been one fine piece of ass.
He fished out his phone, dialed the number, and when old Fuck ’em Frank answered with his trembling voice, he told him, “It’s time.”
CHAPTER Ten
Spotlights shone down on the body. Max stood behind the yellow police tape, but he could see the woman, see the red that bloomed from her chest. The blood that mixed with the trash and the mud beneath her.
“Let him through!” Dante’s order broke the air, and suddenly, Max was pulled under the tape and led closer to the scene.
“You know what’s happening,” Dante said.
No, he didn’t have a clue. He just knew dead bodies were turning up and that wasn’t good.
“The lead kidnapper’s covering his tracks. Taking out his team and eliminating anyone who can ID him.”
“What about Quinlan?”
A muscle worked in Dante’s jaw. “At this point…” Dante ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Ridgeway, but the odds of his survival are slim.”
Max took that hit, and his hands fisted.
“We were so damn close to her.” He could still see her face. Wide eyes, staring at him with recognition before she’d run into the night. “If she’d just talked to us…”
“Then she might not have wound up with her heart nearly carved out.” Brutal.
The agent wasn’t pulling any punches.
“You’re seeing this!”
Max turned at the voice. Samantha’s voice. Angry, fierce, and splitting with emotion.
She was at the south side entrance to the alley. Her hand was clamped around another woman’s arm—the redheaded bartender who’d alerted the blonde and who’d tripped Samantha when they gave chase.
Those few moments… if they’d just had…
“Uh, Sam?” Dante rushed toward her, even as he motioned for Max to stay back. “Sam, what are you—”
She ducked under the police tape and hauled the woman after her.
The bartender screamed, “No, f*ck, no, I don’t want to—”
“I don’t give a damn what you want.” Samantha jerked to a halt and glared at her. “Your friend is dead, and you are going to see her.”
The woman shook her head and tried to back away.
Samantha didn’t let her budge.
“Sam…” Dante closed in on her. “Crime scene, remember? You can’t just—”
“I’m out of time.” And just like that, the heat was gone from her voice. She sounded flat. Sad.
Max stepped toward her. Instantly a cop was there, putting a hand against his chest and stopping him. Making sure he didn’t contaminate the scene. Right. Like he probably hadn’t screwed the scene when he’d trampled through the alley the first time.
“I’m out of time,” Samantha said, “and so is Quinlan Malone.”