Twisted by Jay Bonansinga Read Free Book Online Page A

her a look. “You had to bring that up, didn’t you?”
    She was referring to an article that had appeared in the sleazy tabloid during the Sun City case, the headlines crowing: EXCLUSIVE: BEHIND-THE-SCENES PHOTOGRAPHS OF A MONSTER HUNT. The lurid copy had introduced readers to “Ulysses Grove, the mysterious manhunter from the FBI, and his mystical methods.” A few lines farther down the page, the article had promised readers a hair-raising story of “a monster on the loose, possessed by the spirit of an ancient mummy.” As usual, they’d gotten most of the facts wrong, but they had also gotten just enough right to avoid a lawsuit. But it wasn’t the copy that had bothered Grove. What had bothered him was the accompanying photograph, rendered in grainy paparazzi-style shadows, showing Maura and Grove having a private moment outside the lobby of an Anchorage Marriott.
    That was the day he had gotten up the nerve to ask her out, and was in the process of doing just that when the photo was taken. They had almost kissed at that point. But not quite. She had agreed to go out with him, though, and all had seemed to be well with their budding relationship ... until the trauma of Sun City had curdled both their enthusiasm, and they had agreed to part ways.
    Now Grove was trying to figure out how to breathe life back into their stillborn relationship.
    â€œWhat are you telling me, Ulysses?” Maura wanted to know. “You’ve been stalked before?”
    â€œNot stalked exactly.” He put his tea down, got up, and paced across the room. “After the Keith Jesperson trial, for instance, I did a profile for the Seattle police. Tried to figure out this random series of murders, people getting killed in their homes. What happened was, the perp started writing me.”
    â€œYou’ve got to be kidding.”
    Grove waved off her skepticism. “It’s not as uncommon as you might think. The BTK Killer in Kansas, for instance. He loved to write the press, loved to toy with the investigators. Son of Sam, Jack the Ripper. It’s all part of the sociopathy, part of the sickness. But this suspect up in Seattle, he had a thing for me , for some reason. He’d send me mementoes.”
    Maura looked aghast at him. “Oh Jesus ... you don’t mean ... ?”
    â€œNo, no ... nothing grisly, nothing wet. I’m talking about the drivers’ licenses of known victims, articles of clothing. That kind of thing.”
    She let out a sigh, and said nothing. Her eyes clouded over for a moment with bad memories. She looked like a passenger on an unsteady ship.
    â€œHe was using an industrial postal meter,” Grove went on. “It’s what finally led us to him. Turned out he was a letter carrier. Which was how he was gaining entrance.”
    Maura shook her head then. “You know what? This is too much information.”
    Grove felt a pang in his gut. “I’m sorry. Maura ... I’m sorry. I never should have—”
    â€œNo, it’s okay.”
    â€œBut I really shouldn’t be talking about—”
    â€œNo. It’s all right. I’m here, aren’t I?” She laughed bitterly. “I’m back for more punishment. More death and mayhem and sick shit.”
    He took a step toward her, then paused. “Maura—”
    â€œNo, it’s okay. I’m a big girl, Ulysses, I can handle it. I can handle this.” She reached over to her purse and dug out a cigarette. She lit it with shaking hands. “I’m smelling another great story here. Okay? I’m totally cool with it.”
    It was very clear to Grove that she was not totally cool with it, and he had made a big mistake, talking about this stuff in front of her. “I’m sorry I dragged you over here,” he said finally.
    â€œYou don’t get it, do ya?” She angrily puffed her unfiltered Camel. “I chose to come here.”
    He looked