Femme Fatale (Black Rose Book 2) Read Free Page A

they are not at fault for a monster’s behavior. No wonder she doesn’t want to go through the anguish of facing her attackers in court. From previous experience with patients who have been through similar circumstances, I know the victim is often raked over the coals in an effort to discredit their testimony. I’ve even heard women go so far as to say it’s like being raped all over again.
    The rest of the contents in her bag are the standard items any woman would use in their beauty regime. I pull her purse over to go through it as well, and a tinge of guilt courses through me. I’m not in the habit of imposing on other people’s privacy. Convincing myself it’s for the greater good, I continue rifling through its contents. I fumble with her wallet in an effort to get one of her business cards. The latex gloves I’m wearing impede the dexterity I would normally have. There’s no doubt I’m probably being overly cautious, but this is a life or death issue, and I’ve resigned myself to believing it’s better to err on the side of caution. Perhaps I share more of my husband’s traits than I previously believed. Could he be right? Are there dark shadows in me just waiting, yearning to be released? It would be so much better to find out I have a dark side now than to be riddled with guilt after I commit the mortal sin of murder. I stuff the business card in my pocket and make a mental note to do an Internet search on her when I get home. I also have access to her medical records, which will provide me with a lot of insight into her life. If she has been under the care of a psychiatrist and been caught lying, it will reveal her true character to me. As badly as I want to kill her attacker, I don’t want to kill an innocent man more. Much like my husband, I need to know this man is truly guilty before I can justify being the cause of his death.
    My husband has access to police records and what he doesn’t have access to, he can hack. If there is anything about this woman online, he’ll be able to find it.
    I quietly make my way out to her room, treading lightly and moving quickly before anyone comes in to check on her. I grab the jeans she has laying over the standard hospital room chair and pull her cell phone from the pocket. I quickly scroll through her contacts and calendar, promptly writing down her last appointments and the address that, thankfully, hasn’t been deleted yet. I know she’s a realtor from talking to Evelyn, and I’m thinking perhaps that’s the way her kidnapper lured her into his trap. Most realtors would feel comfortable meeting a man as high profile as Richard Roundtree on their own.
    Anyone living in Louisville, Kentucky knows that name. He’s the go-to guru for any philanthropy work that goes on in the area. From helping to save the library, to providing the animals at the local zoo a cage free environment, Richard has his hands in it. If it has anything to do with volunteer work, then you can bet his name is attached in some form or fashion. The guy is a staple in the society section of the local newspaper, dubbed the CJ—short for The Courier Journal.
    This poor girl was probably suckered into believing she hit pay dirt when he called for her to show him a house in one of the most affluent neighborhoods in the area. According to her note, she had made an appointment to show him homes in communities listed among the top ten most expensive and elite places to live in Louisville. Neighborhoods like Bonny Castle and Mocking Bird Valley are known for being home to some of the wealthiest millionaires in the area—the crème de la crème of society. The girl was probably blinded by dollar signs before she even met Richard Roundtree in person.
    If what we suspect is true really happened, then what started out as a dream come true for this girl, quickly turned into a nightmare—a nightmare there’s no escape from. The only way this girl will ever be free of Richard Roundtree is if my