Web of Secrets (Agents Under Fire) by Susan Sleeman Read Free Book Online Page A

he called out. “Can you come here a minute?”
    Dane strode over to him. “Whatcha need?”
    “This bone. How long would it take to become skeletonized like this?”
    “Depends. It could happen quickly if the body wasn’t buried the whole time. A few weeks, I’d guess. Or if she’d been buried, six months or longer. Or we could be looking at a girl who’s been here for years.”
    “Like sixteen years?”
    “Sure.”
    Connor resisted letting his mouth fall open. This toe, this little bit of a human being, might be part of Molly’s body. And today could be the day Becca found out her foster sister hadn’t escaped Van Gogh’s clutches after all.
    HE WAS BACK, AND Becca couldn’t breathe.
    She forced herself to plant one foot in front of the other to make her way up the path. The air was thick with moisture, and large raindrops hit her in the face. She swiped a hand over her forehead to dislodge hair matted against her skin and paused to catch her breath.
    “Tough climb.” Kait panted next to Becca.
    “Imagine carrying a body.” Becca swigged her water and started up the path again.
    Her mind went to the sight that she knew awaited them, and her skin crawled.
    She’d had nightmares of this day. Dreamt about it over and over for sixteen years. Awoke sweating. Terrified. Unable to breathe. Much of the time, she’d been seeking Molly who’d run away, becoming a whispery shadow on the horizon, and Becca had never been able to catch up to her.
    It was fitting, considering that Becca had run from Molly. Just as Van Gogh made the first cut into Becca’s ear, Molly had offered herself instead. Distracted, he turned his attention to Molly without properly securing Becca. The chance to escape opened up, and Becca had taken it.
    She’d run. Fast and far. Telling herself with each step that she was putting enough distance between them to be able to find help without risking capture. But she’d raced past help. Run hard. Down the road. Around corners . . . until she’d collapsed. Until she could run no more. Until she had no idea how to get back to the house where Van Gogh held Molly.
    And Becca had never seen Molly again.
    What kind of person left her foster sister to die at a lunatic’s hands? A terrible person. One who thought only of herself.
    They crested the hill. Becca’s gaze went straight to the grave. Sam charged across the field and stepped in front of Kait. Becca slipped past him, not bothering to see if they followed. She didn’t care. She’d left Molly alone, and she deserved to be alone, too.
    Connor stood on the far side of the grave talking to the medical examiner. She didn’t make eye contact with him, but could feel him carefully watching her. He was worried for her, and he wasn’t bothering to hide it. She appreciated his concern, but she hadn’t asked for it. Hadn’t asked for anything from him. All she wanted was to be treated like a fellow colleague. This monster of a mess was the reason. She could never share her secret. Never tell anyone else she’d abandoned Molly. If she did, they’d run the other way. So even if she did feel more than a physical attraction for Connor—which she wasn’t saying she did—she wasn’t about to do anything about it.
    And then there was the possibility that Van Gogh could find out she was alive and come after her again. Maybe hurt someone she cared about in the process. That was why she chose not to tell Kait or Nina. And no matter how big and tough Connor was, she wouldn’t risk exposing him to Van Gogh, either.
    She moved closer, catching the fetid smell as she looked at the grave. The girl, the poor, poor girl wore the same style of nightgown Van Gogh had dressed Becca in, right before putting the pearls in her ears. Before the knife came out and he paused to stare at her, a sick smile plastered on his face.
    Was he here, watching now? Did he see her? Did he somehow know, after all this time, that she was Lauren? That she was alive?
    She