Kill Her Again (A Thriller) by Robert Gregory Browne Read Free Book Online Page A

house had taken Kimberly with him, then little Kimberly’s fate was all but sealed.
    “You want me to go in with you?” Chavez asked.
    “We’ll be fine,” Anna said, then popped her door open and climbed out.
    Scooping Evan into her arms, she carried him through the lobby doors, then set him down and took his hand.
    She hadn’t been wrong about the smell. Especially the cigarette smoke.
    Despite the early hour, the place was fairly active, and Evan stared wide-eyed at the rows of clanging slot machines and the mix of bleary-eyed tourists who filled the stools in front of them.
    A couple aisles over, a jackpot siren went off, and Evan flinched, grabbing Anna’s arm.
    “It’s okay,” she said, although she wasn’t quite sure that was true. Bringing the boy to Daniel Pope was not her first—or even last—choice, and parading him through this seedy environment didn’t much help. But she took his hand again, found an empty aisle, and guided him toward a glowing red sign that read: HOTEL REGISTRATION.
    They were about halfway to it, moving past a row of mostly empty blackjack tables, when a uniformed security guard stepped into their path.
    “Excuse me, ma’am. There are no children allowed in here.”
    Anna immediately brought her creds out. “I’m looking for one of your employees. A man by the name of Daniel Pope.”
    The guard’s eyebrows raised. “He in trouble?”
    “No. He’s expecting us. Where can I find him?”
    “He’s got a room in the residential section. Four-oh-eight. You’ll either find him there or in the poker room.”
    “And where’s this residential section?”
    The guard pointed toward a hallway near the registration desk. “Through there. Elevator on your left.”
    Anna nodded. “Thank you.”
    A few moments later, she and Evan were riding an excruciatingly slow elevator to the fourth floor, Evan squeezing her hand so tightly it was starting to go numb.
    “Is this where Kimmie is?” he asked.
    “No, dear. I told you, remember? We’re here to see Mr. Pope.”
    “Who’s he?”
    Before she could answer, the elevator lurched to a halt and the doors slid open, revealing a man in khaki pants and black Polo shirt leaning casually against the hallway wall as if he had been waiting for them.
    Daniel Pope.
    Apparently the guard had alerted him.
    Anna recognized him immediately, although the TV footage and the photos in the newspaper hadn’t quite done him justice. He was Hollywood handsome, without the slick phoniness that usually went with it.
    But what really struck her was his eyes. Dark and haunted and quietly intelligent.
    Despite a calculated immunity to such things, Anna felt a slight lurch inside her chest as his gaze fell upon her—and it had nothing to do with the motion of the elevator. He seemed to be looking into her, rather than at her.
    “Mr. Pope?” It was a silly question. She already knew the answer.
    “Crimen ut tutela,” he said, then crossed himself in an overly elaborate gesture, as if offering a papal blessing. Then, pushing away from the wall, he gave her a smile, and despite the joke, Anna thought it seemed forced.
    Or maybe she was letting her knowledge of the man’s history color her perception. That Pope was able to smile at all was a miracle to Anna.
    She produced her credentials again. “Anna McBride,” she said, guiding Evan into the hallway. “This is Evan Fairweather.”
    Staring at the boy, Pope seemed momentarily lost in a memory, but recovered quickly and crouched down, offering a hand to shake.
    “Hi, Evan. I’m Danny.”
    Evan eyed the hand warily, then finally brought his own up and shook it. “Is Kimmie here?”
    “No, son, I’m afraid she’s not. But I’m told you might be able to help us find her.”
    Evan went silent, shaking his head.
    “You thirsty?” Pope asked. “Do you like soda?”
    A nod this time. “But my mom doesn’t like me to drink it.”
    “How about a glass of milk, then?”
    “. . . okay.”
    “Why