Serial Killers Uncut by Blake Crouch, Jack Kilborn, J. A. Konrath Read Free Book Online Page B

worth hundreds of thousands of dollars a year to the Dispatch, and the publicity she received raised the paper's profile more than their crackerjack investigative team ever could. That Ted would extend an olive branch so quickly surprised her at first, but if she ran the company she'd want to make sure her star reporter got home safe, sound and dry.

    Please, Chester said, come with me. .

    Chester opened up a much larger umbrella and held it out. Paulina smiled at him, a big, bright, toothy smile, and stepped under the umbrella. He led her to a Lincoln Town Car which sat double-parked at the curb. Holding the umbrella to shield her from the rain, the driver opened the door. Paulina thanked him, picked up the hem of her skirt and climbed into the backseat of the car. The driver shut the door, and Paulina watched as he walked around to the front.

    Two sealed bottles of water were set in a pair of cup holders, and crisp new editions of that morning's newspapers were folded in the pocket in front of her. The rain pattered against the windows as Paulina unscrewed one of the bottles and took a long, deep sip.

    The driver flicked on his blinker and pulled into traffic. He headed uptown. The only sound Paulina could hear was the rubber squeaking of the windshield wipers. The only smell that of the car's leather.

    Good day, miss? the driver asked.

    Better than some, worse than others, she replied. Traffic was bumper to bumper, and the car inched along. Paulina began to grow restless. As much as she hated taking the subway, she probably would have been home by now.

    You think there might be a faster route? she asked, leaning forward slightly when the car stopped at a red light. The driver turned around, grinned.

    Let's see what we can do. .

    The driver made a right turn, and soon the car was heading east. When they got to First Avenue, Paulina could see signs for the FDR Drive north. He pulled onto the on-ramp and headed uptown. The FDR tended to get flooded during heavy rain, but Paulina didn't mind chancing that to get home quicker. She watched the cars out-side, eyes widening as she saw her exit, Sixty-first Street, appear in the distance. Yet instead of slowing down and pulling left toward the exit ramp, the car sped along, bypassing the exit completely.

    Hey! Paulina said, leaning forward again. That was my stop. This isn't NASCAR, pay attention. .

    My apologies, the driver said, I must not have seen it. .

    No kidding, Stevie Wonder. Paulina cursed under her breath. The next exit wasn't until Ninety-sixth Street, and then he would have to loop all the way back downtown. Just like Ted Allen to hire a car service and get a driver dumber than a pile of bricks.

    Traffic moved along steadily, and Paulina sighed as they approached the Ninety-sixth Street exit.

    Exit's coming up, she said, making sure to remind him.

    Got it, thanks, Miss Cole. .

    As they approached the exit, Paulina noticed the car was not slowing down at all.

    Hey, will you slow down? What the hell is wrong with you? You're going to miss it! .

    The car drove right by the exit without slowing down one bit.

    Where the hell are you going? Paulina yelled. The driver did not answer. I'm calling Ted.
    You'll work as a brain surgeon before you ever work our account again. .

    Put the phone down, Miss Cole. The driver's voice had lost all of its pleasantries.

    Screw you. Now I'm calling the cops. Forget our account. Your ass is going to jail. She took out her cell phone and flipped open the cover.

    If you ever want to see your daughter with all her limbs intact, you'll put the phone down right now. .

    Paulina's mouth fell open in a silent scream. Her daughter' how did this man even know about her? Paulina's daughter lived with her first husband, a loser of a man named Chad Wozniak. He was a good father, an aspiring architect who never progressed beyond the word aspiring. He was a good man, a decent man, but not a provider. That's what Paulina had wanted for