Dead Reckoning Read Free

shuffling against the floor. He cursed as he yanked at her skirt and panties. She closed her eyes when the fabric ripped. It was unreal, lying on the floor, shot and bleeding and unable to feel any of it. She was aware of her body being jostled, but her nerves were dead to sensation. Then he was on top of her. His body against hers, moving, rocking her back and forth. She could see his hand braced against the floor a few inches from her face. He was grunting like an animal. Cursing her . . .
    The assault was over quickly. Evangeline lay there, paralyzed and helpless and wondering if he was going to let her live.
    “You got blood all over me, you bitch,” he said, jerking up his zipper.
    When she opened her eyes, he was standing over her. Pale eyes staring at her with the cold blankness of a mannequin. The shotgun muzzle was less than a foot from her right temple.
    Take care of my babies, she prayed.
    And then the world exploded.

ONE
    MONDAY, JANUARY 23, 7:25 A. M.
    The city of Dallas rose early on Monday morning. By six thirty A.M., Central Expressway, the Dallas North Tollway, and LBJ Freeway were packed with tens of thousands of commuters, each determined to get to work on time despite the miles of construction, the endless congestion, and the simple fact that there were more cars than roads.
    Part southern belle, part cosmopolitan metropolis with a little bit of the Wild West thrown in, Dallas was a city of stark contrasts. A city caught in a perpetual identity crisis. It was a place where gracious old mansions battled for space among the glass and steel skyscrapers that had been born during the oil boom of the 1980s. A city where the slow pace of the Old South clashed with the high-tech scramble of urban America. A place where lush southern magnolia trees shivered in the wicked winds that whipped down from the high plains during the short, cold winters.
    But despite its quirks and growing pains, Dallas was home and Kate Megason loved it with a passion. She loved the excitement of big-city living. The restaurants and shopping, parks and cultural events. She loved the interesting mix of cultures that made Dallas one of the most diverse cities in the United States.
    But like all big cities, Dallas had a dark side and more than its share of violent crime. Averaging over two hundred murders a year, the city was one of the nation’s most violent. As a Dallas County assistant district attorney, Kate took those statistics as a personal affront.
    She’d graduated magna cum laude from the University of Texas at Austin. For her law degree she’d chosen Southern Methodist University over Northwestern. And at the ripe age of twenty-six, she’d passed the Texas State Bar exam and become a lawyer. That same year she landed a job with the Dallas County district attorney’s office and became one of the youngest ADAs in the county’s one-hundred-and-fifty-year history.
    Kate believed staunchly in the criminal justice system. She believed just as staunchly in the judicial system to which she had devoted her professional life. She enjoyed the challenge of her work. She craved the satisfaction that came with knowing she’d put a dangerous criminal behind bars where he couldn’t hurt anyone else. She liked knowing she made a difference. Maybe even helped make the world a better place to live.
    It was almost seven-thirty when she turned off Industrial Boulevard and swung her BMW into the parking garage of the Frank Crowley Courts Building in downtown Dallas. She entered the building and flashed her ID badge at the police officer stationed at the front entrance the way she had every day for the last two years.
    “Morning Ms. Megason.”
    “How’s it going, Sam?” she asked as she set her briefcase on the belt and walked through the metal detector. “LaShonda have that baby yet?”
    He grinned. “Going to be any day now.”
    Kate smiled back, liking both the routine and the man. “Number three?”
    “Four.”
    “Give her my