Twisted by Laura Griffin Read Free Book Online Page B

there. Our UNSUB is a loner.”
    “You’re certain?”
    “Yes.”
    Silence settled over the car as he neared downtown again. He needed to take her back to the station where she’d left her truck. He needed to check into his motel, too, but he didn’t really want to.
    “You hungry?”
    He glanced at her. “Shouldn’t you take care of that injury?”
    “I’d rather eat,” she said. “Actually, I’ve been starving for hours. What about you?”
    Mark considered it. The calzone he’d eaten while waiting for his flight seemed ages ago, but he didn’t like the thought of sharing dinner with her two nights in a row.
    “There’s a Sonic right up here. Great chili dogs.” She flipped the mirror shut and looked at him. “They have wraps, too—in case you’re on a health kick.”
    He sighed. Work or food? But it wasn’t really that simple. This was a small town. People would see them together and get the wrong idea. She might get the wrong idea.
    “You know you’re hungry.”
    He glanced at her. She was right. And to his surprise, he’d discovered he liked her company—which was unusual because there were so few people he liked to be around anymore.
    Screw it. It was only a hamburger. He spotted the sign and pulled into the parking lot.
    “One chili dog, all the way, side of tater tots.”
    He shot her a look.
    “What? They’re good.”
    He ordered her food and added a cheeseburger and fries for himself.
    “Don’t tell me they’re really going to bring it out on roller skates,” he said.
    “Yep.”
    “Very retro.”
    She smiled. “We like things quaint.”
    He left the window open, and the faint sound of a marching band could be heard from a football stadium across town. Something about the percussion noises mingled with the brisk November air was so very heartland , and it made him glad to know there were still places like this scattered across America.
    “Friday-night lights,” she said, leaning her head back against the seat. “Only game in town.”
    He watched her for a moment. She’d stopped the bleeding, but he still didn’t like the look of that cut marring her smooth cheek.
    She glanced over and caught him staring.
    “You grow up around here?” he asked.
    “South Side High, home of the Wranglers. You’re listening to them now.”
    “So you have family in town?”
    “My sister. South Side homecoming queen, by the way.” Her voice was laced with pride and maybe a hint of sarcasm.
    “What about you?”
    “Me? No. You have to be popular for that. And wear a dress.”
    He smiled. “Your parents live here, too, then?”
    She gazed out the window. “My mom’s still in the house where we grew up.”
    Okay. Evasive.
    She turned to look at him. “Where’re you from?”
    “West Virginia.” He could say it now without a trace of shame—that’s what two degrees and a federal badge had done for him.
    “And now you live near Quantico?”
    “Alexandria.”
    “Never been there.”
    “It’s like everywhere else. Used to be a town, now it’s a suburb. Anyway, I don’t spend much time there. I’m on the road a lot.”
    “Bet that’s hard on a marriage.”
    He looked at her. “It was,” he said, answering her unspoken question.
    Something in her eyes told him the next question was going to be even more personal, and he didn’t feel like talking about his ex-wife or his one-bedroom apartment, still crammed with moving boxes two years after his divorce. A freshly minted psychologist would probably say he was in denial, but Mark knew the reason was far less interesting: He was a workaholic and hadn’t had time to unpack.
    “Tell me about Jordan Wheatley,” he said.
    “What about her?”
    “What do you know about her case, besides what you said on the phone?”
    “Jordan Wheatley,” she said crisply. “Thirty-three, Caucasian, college graduate. She lives up in Wayne County with her husband.”
    “Kids?”
    “No.”
    “Job?”
    “She works at GreenWinds, I think. They’re