01 A Cold Dark Place Read Free Page A

party.” Danbridge spoke quickly into her radio.
    “ Someone might have set up Meacher to be the fall guy,” Lucas offered.
    “ Maybe.” Mallory grimaced. “But nothing about the profile suggested Meacher had a partner and those images”—she jerked her thumb over her shoulder—“only show one male subject in action. We should search for video footage. No way he’d be satisfied with just photographs.”
    EMTs arrived on the scene and pounded down the wooden steps. Danbridge herded them away from Meacher ’s body. “You don’t need to worry about him.” Tall and blond, Supervisory Special Agent Danbridge put the ‘bitch’ in ambitious. Mallory had a great deal of respect for her boss as an agent, but she wasn’t an empathetic being. No warm and fuzzies in the girls’ restroom back at the office. “Touch anything apart from the woman on the bed and I’ll report your asses.”
    Yup. About as warm and cuddly as a tarantula.
    Both EMTs rolled their eyes as Mallory unlocked the handcuffs using keys Meacher had left tauntingly close to the bed, just out of reach of the victim. The woman started to moan, then blink and frown in confusion.
    “You’re okay, Miss. Can you tell me your name?” the EMT asked, strapping a blood pressure cuff to her arm.
    “ Where am I? Was I in an accident?” Her voice was hoarse. “The man said I was going to be okay. Said the feds were coming. Why would the FBI be here?” She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.
    “ Lie still,” the medic admonished.
    “ I feel dizzy. God, I didn’t have that much to drink.”
    “ Who told you the FBI were coming?” Mallory asked, exchanging a glance with Lucas. The trouble with special-K was it could produce vivid hallucinations and often made witness statements not only inadmissible, but downright freaky. Still, right now they had nothing else to go on. Maybe she’d remember some detail about whoever shot Meacher. “Did you get a look at his face?”
    “ A really nice looking guy. Unless I was dreaming.” Dark brown eyes focused and unfocused as she squinted at Mallory’s face. “Are you with the FBI? What happened? Where am I?”
    But before Mal could answer, the woman caught sight of Meacher ’s corpse lying on the floor, and seemed to become aware of her ripped blouse, the crinkle of plastic beneath her. She half sat up, looked around at the cold dank basement, and started to sob. Then she started to scream.
     
    ***
     
    Seven hours later, Mallory stood in the shadowy parking lot at the back of the hospital, sipping too-hot coffee and wishing SSA Danbridge would pick up the damn phone. Her feet were numb; toes tingling blocks of ice. Giving up on her boss, she stuffed her phone back in her pocket and jammed her free hand under her opposite armpit. She should have grabbed an overcoat to go over her black wool pantsuit before she’d left the division yesterday but had been too excited to even think of it. A hard layer of frost covered the ground—ridiculously cold for North Carolina even in November.
    Danbridge had assigned Mallory the task of accompanying the victim to the hospital and getting a statement. If the “alleged” serial killer had still been at large there was no way a lowly agent like her would have gotten this job. Mal sighed. By the time a doctor examined Janelle Ebert’s injuries and collected evidence from her clothes and person, it had been three AM. Then the poor woman had requested a nap while Mallory paced the hallway. Finally Mallory had gotten a statement which told them nothing they hadn’t already known. Janelle had been out for a drink in a bar and Meacher had snatched her from a poorly lit parking lot. She remembered nothing between leaving the bar to waking up in that basement.
    She ’d been reported missing by a friend who’d arranged to sleep over at Janelle’s apartment and who’d worried when Janelle hadn’t arrived to let her in. When the friend had gone back to the bar and seen