Darkfire Kiss Read Free Page A

story. She’d gone to the morgue first, halfway suspecting that Daphne had been putting her on. No one could have been more astonished than Melissa when she found Daphne there, labeled as a Jane Doe. Not just dead. Fried. Only half of her face had remained intact enough to identify her remains.
    Melissa would never forget that sight.
    She’d then hunted down the lock that fit the numbered key, working her way through train stations and airports. She’d found the match at Washington Dulles. There’d been a duffel bag in it, one filled with Daphne’s apparent necessities. It confirmed that Daphne had been poised to run; that she’d known she was taking a big risk. She hadn’t lied about that.
    The stuffed puppy Melissa had first given Daphne in Baghdad was in the bag, now well loved. The sight nearly stopped Melissa’s heart.
    Deeper in the bag, she found Daphne’s diary.
    It was a riveting read. The girl was a good reporter, thorough and detailed. If she’d survived, though, her story would have created questions. She was, after all, a beggar girl saved from the streets by Montmorency—her word against his wouldn’t stand a chance.
    But in her diary, Daphne had documented where correlating evidence could be found against Montmorency.
    It was in a small blue leather-bound book, one that was always in a certain place in the top right drawer of a desk in Montmorency’s fortified DC residence. Everything— everything —was documented there, according to Daphne.
    It was the evidence Melissa needed.
    The evidence she had wanted all those years ago.
    She just had to break into the house to get it.
    It wouldn’t be hard—Daphne had also provided the security codes to the house.
    Melissa hesitated. It was a crime to break and enter. It was wrong. Even though Montmorency was suspected of being an arms dealer, even though he made sure nothing ever stuck to him and nothing could be traced to him, even though bringing him to justice would tip the balance in favor of good guys everywhere and would fulfill a personal goal of Melissa’s, it was still wrong to break into his home.
    Dangerous, too.
    Melissa swallowed and considered the house. She could almost hear Daphne calling her bluff. That girl would never have worried about a comparatively minor infraction, especially one in the pursuit of a greater good.
    She’d taught Daphne to record the evidence, follow a trail, and build a story. Maybe Daphne was teaching her to take a chance.
    What, really, did she have left to lose?
    Headlights swept over Melissa’s car, and she instinctively hunched down in the seat. A large black armored Mercedes sedan pulled out of Montmorency’s driveway, the engine gunning as it headed downtown. Where was it going at this hour?
    Melissa checked her watch. Ten past midnight.
    Maybe the car was going to pick up Montmorency. The windows were tinted dark, so Melissa could see only the silhouette of a driver when it passed. She was sure its departure was a sign, if not an invitation. If the house was empty, this was her chance. Who knew how soon the car would return?
    Daphne deserved justice….
    Melissa knew a person couldn’t always count on getting a second chance. She wouldn’t damage anything. She wouldn’t take much, just that little blue book from Montmorency’s desk. It wouldn’t take five minutes.
    It would be easy.
    It was a moral infraction that wouldn’t matter in the greater scheme of things.
    Melissa didn’t believe that for a minute, but she got out of her car anyway. It was snowing lightly, the snow melting on contact with the pavement. There would be no mark of her footsteps—another sign.
    She pulled on her leather gloves and turned up her collar. She wrapped her scarf across her face as if she were cold, even though she was perspiring in her anxiety. After all, she wasn’t in the habit of breaking the law. She reminded herself of the power of the greater good. She reminded herself of her debt to a little beggar girl