Dead End by Mariah Stewart Read Free Book Online Page B

spirit, and body?
    “You just dispose of them. You can’t send them back to their families.” He’d given this speech to all of his customers at one time or another. “Look, you got a cop or two on your payroll, right? Of course you do. Now, if I were you, when the girls just don’t have it anymore, when they start losing that fight, I’d give ’em to the cops, a little reward for their loyalty. When they’re done with the girls, they can take care of them. Trust me, no one knows how to get away with murder better than a cop.”
    He drained the coffee in the cup and left a ten on the table with the bill for his breakfast. Once outside in the swelter of an early August Virginia morning, he paused and took a deep cleansing breath, just as he’d been instructed to do.
    To have a good day, keep the anger at bay.
    It had become his mantra. Not that it always worked, but today, it was good enough to take the edge off. He got into his car and prepared for his meeting.
    Then it was off with the Rolex, on with the Timex.
    Damn, but he loved that gold watch with the diamonds, loved the feel of it on his wrist, loved the way it looked, so classy, so expensive. With a sigh, he dropped it into its box and placed it in his briefcase.
    He had yet to meet the FBI agent who could afford a watch like that. The watch, the house in Myrtle Beach, the condo in Manhattan, the apartments in Paris and London—all real estate in his mother’s name, of course—the new Jaguar . . . who could live like that on what the government paid?
    He wondered idly how his good friend Agent Shields spent his share of the money they’d made since he’d recruited him three years ago. He hoped Shields was as smart about it as he himself had been. Maybe he should have a chat soon, find out where it was stashed. In the unfortunate event that something should happen to his good buddy, shouldn’t someone know where to find the cash?
    After all, in their line of work—legitimate as well as illegal—an untimely accident could occur at any time.
    And as far as Luther was concerned, Connor Shields was headed for an accident, as soon as he’d taken care of one little loose end.
    Maybe sooner.

6
    Annie sat cross-legged on the floor of her apartment, the contents of the thick file stacked around her in piles. Police reports here, photos of the crime scene there, autopsy report and photos on the edge of the coffee table.
    In her hand she held the master list of the contents of the file. She’d read through the reports of Dylan’s death many times, but this time she thought she’d put them in the same order in which they appeared on the list. It would be easier for Evan, who’d be taking his first look at the records this weekend. It would go a lot faster if he could just follow along and check off each report as he read it. Unfortunately, the file had been taken apart and read by so many people over the past two years, nothing was where she’d expected it to be.
    The photos were easy to put in order. They were numbered in chronological order. The witness statements were a little more challenging. It seemed that few of them had been returned to their rightful place.
    No time like the present, she told herself as she proceeded to search the file for the first report on the list. She found it near the bottom of the stack. She checked it off, then went on to the next. Three hours later, she had most of the reports where they should be. There were three, however, she’d not been able to find.
    One was a report attributed to Connor Shields. She frowned, trying to recall if she’d previously seen a report from Connor in the file. She didn’t think she had. And why would there have been a report from Connor? Hadn’t he been out of the country at the time of Dylan’s death?
    If he hadn’t been there, hadn’t been involved, what could he possibly have contributed to the investigation?
    She was tempted to call and ask him, then thought better of it. Who knew