The Kill by Allison Brennan Read Free Book Online Page B

controlling his temper, especially when someone was being unfairly picked on.
    “Zack,” his grandmother would say, “your passion for those who can’t defend themselves is admirable, and will take you far if you don’t become a bully in the process.”
    He’d worked hard at it, mostly had his temper under control, but tonight he remembered the bad taste the Feds left in his mouth the last time they’d worked together.
    He was about to explain his comments when the woman said, “What’s mine is yours, Detective.”
    She arched her eyebrows and stared him down, her hands clasped in her lap, her hazel eyes firmly locked on to his. Almost daring him, challenging him . . .
    He looked away, surprised that the little woman had such courage to attempt staring
him
down. Yet she had. He’d turned away first. He felt an unwanted jolt of admiration. “Fine,” he said. “But,” he continued, looking at Pierson, then at Agent St. Martin, “if I find out that you’re playing games, withholding evidence, or generally jerking the department around, all deals are off.”
    “I don’t play games, Detective,” she said.
    Olivia knew she was on thin ice. If Detective Travis really pushed, he might learn the truth. The threat of exposure terrified her, but also gave her the courage to stand firm, and she mentally braced herself for a confrontation.
    Travis stared at her, his dark eyes taking in her entire appearance with an almost crude appraisal. She resisted the urge to straighten her spine. He reminded her of a football player, a man who worked out and liked it. She felt even smaller than her diminutive not-quite-five-foot-three. Being seated certainly didn’t help.
    But Olivia would not be intimidated.
    “As long as we understand each other, Agent St. Martin,” he said. “Ready to share?” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm toward the door.
    Olivia released a pent-up breath. Slowly, so neither Chief Pierson nor Detective Travis could see her relief.
    “Absolutely,” she said as she stood, holding her briefcase. She nodded to the chief and followed the detective from the office.
    “I have one of the conference rooms set up for this case,” Travis said. “Let’s go there.”
    “I’m not here to cause problems,” Olivia said, feeling a strong need for him to accept her.
    “I’m sure you’re not.” Sarcastic.
    “You don’t like the FBI?”
    “My dealings with them in the past have never been what you’d call positive.”
    She frowned. She knew some stories of locals and the FBI not getting along, but she’d always been two or three steps removed from the investigation. Everyone she worked with seemed to be friendly. True, her experience was often thousands of miles away in a crime lab, but she thought she would have picked up on hostilities.
    Detective Travis led her through a maze of desks. A dozen men and women watched them pass. Their watchful eyes made her increasingly nervous as she crossed the brightly lit space. She kept her face impassive, determined not to let any of these people get to her. She was already playing a dangerous game; jeopardizing her career was only the beginning. But she would see it through. She had to.
    She would find Missy’s killer and he would pay. Justice would be served. Or she would die trying.
    The thought didn’t scare her—and
that
worried her. She
should
be scared. She should be terrified of the killer who—by her count—had raped and murdered no less than twenty-nine girls in thirty-four years. Thirty, counting the death of Michelle Davidson.
    But she’d come this far. There was no backing out now.
    Zack stopped abruptly and turned into a conference room, closing the door behind them. “Sit. We have a lot of work to do.”
    Olivia put her briefcase down and slid into a chair. “I said I would share everything I have. I don’t think it’s fair that you’re judging me without even giving me a chance to prove that I have no agenda other than to capture