Pitch Black by Leslie A. Kelly Read Free Book Online Page A

going to the source was quicker. “Can you tell me what you remember?”
    As she closed her eyes to concentrate, Alec couldn’t help noticing the long sweep of the woman’s lashes brushing against her high cheekbones. He shifted in his chair, uncomfortably aware of his attraction to her. To a potential witness. Which was not only a no-no, but in his case, possibly a career killer.
    Not that attraction had been the problem in Atlanta. Sympathy and misplaced trust had been his downfall there. But the lesson was the same: No mixing it up with witnesses.
    “I’d responded to his e-mail”—she glanced at the printed version, checking the time—“at around five. I told him it was a scam and I was shocked he didn’t know about it.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “I told him he wasn’t much of a fan if he hadn’t noticed I’d written a whole chapter about it in my book. Then I suggested he print out the articles I linked to, roll them up, and smack his buddy in the head with them for even considering going along.”
    She managed a weak smile. Alec couldn’t bring himself to return it. Judging by what he knew of the boys, he suspected there was nothing Ryan wouldn’t have done to try to stop his friend. Yet, in the end, he’d gone with him to his death.
    Tragic. So damned tragic. “And the instant messages?”
    “I had run down to the corner market in case the storm snowed me in, and I didn’t log off. When I came back, I saw he had IM’d me a couple of times.”
    “What did he say?”
    “He was asking if any of these scams ever included getting a certified check, and if those checks could bounce. Which, of course, they can, if they’re faked. It’s happening all the time, especially to people who sell stuff on Craigslist and Internet auction sites. Or those who respond to ads for ‘mystery shoppers’ or work-at-home opportunities.”
    Alec made a note to look into the certified-check angle. There’d been no mention of it in the crime scene report, or in any of the interviews with Jason’s or Ryan’s parents. He also wanted to know more about those work-at-home ads she’d mentioned, given the other murder five weeks ago.
    “I tried to respond, but he was offline by then. It was the night of the big snowstorm, and my Internet connection went out, and I forgot about it.”
    The night of the snowstorm. The night the boys had disappeared. Would they have gone through with the meeting, driven to their deaths, if the scam expert Ryan so trusted had personally warned him of the danger? From what the computer guys could tell, Ryan had not opened Samantha’s return e-mail. It had been hung up in one of those cyberspace black holes and hadn’t shown up in his e-mail account until the next morning.
    But the IMs . . . If Samantha Dalton had been sitting at her desk to receive them and respond right away, how different might things be today?
    She was definitely going to take the news of Ryan Smith’s murder very hard.
    And though she was a perfect stranger, Alec already dreaded having to tell her.
    They’d discovered the bodies right on schedule.
    He’d been watching for the story on the news, knowing that as the weather warmed back up to above-normal temperatures, the chances of the car being spotted in the thawing pond would improve. And that once the car was found, the water would be searched for its occupants.
    He laughed softly, wondering how the state police divers had enjoyed dipping beneath the frigid surface.
    How had the boys looked after their winter dip? Had their toes snapped off like the tips of delicate icicles? Had their eyes become glittering glass marbles? Was the skin as fine as porcelain or veined like marble? Did their hair float about their heads before freezing, forming beautiful, crystallized halos of white?
    He would have enjoyed seeing them. Two fools frozen in a pose of eternal stupidity.
    “Not two fools,” he reminded himself. “Not the second boy.”
    No, Jason’s unfortunate