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

searched the area and honed in on the trees, looking for life, for the man who’d terrorized her and Molly for days. She saw nothing, but he could be there. Deeper in the woods, binoculars in hand. Enjoying her distress.
    Her throat closed. She could barely breathe. No. He couldn’t win. She forced her mind back to today and looked at the girl’s face. The mouth and eyes were open. Terrified. The face morphed into Molly’s face. This wasn’t Molly. The body was too young to be Molly’s. Besides, this girl hadn’t been dead for sixteen years. But still, Molly would have felt the same terror.
    A strangled cry escaped Becca’s throat.
    Connor grimaced and started for her, skirting Marcie with a deft foot. He gently took Becca’s arm and turned her away from the horrific sight. She usually reacted to his touch, but she was so frozen in shock and fear, she barely felt his hand.
    “I’m thankful for your help.” He rested a hand on her shoulder and gave her a tender look that brought tears to her eyes. “But I wish you weren’t here.”
    All she wanted to do was melt against his chest and let him hold her until the horrible memories of the night in the damp cellar disappeared, but she was here as an FBI agent and she needed to remember that. “I’m a law enforcement officer, just like you, Connor. I’m trained for this.”
    “Training and actually viewing a decomposed body are two different things. I oughta know. I deal with homicide victims all the time.”
    She wanted to heed his advice, but if she didn’t check out the details, she couldn’t help bring the monster Van Gogh to justice. “I’m good, Connor. Really I am.”
    She stepped around him. The foul odor caught on the wind.
    For Molly and the others , Becca reminded herself and made her feet move forward.
    Marcie looked up, smiled tightly, then focused on Connor. “Before you ask, my initial assessment is that the girl’s been here for about a week. But there are so many factors when a body is buried that I can’t be certain. We do have the presence of coffin flies, and putrefaction has started. Her face is swollen and her abdomen full of gasses so she’s definitely—”
    “That’s enough, Marcie.” Connor held up his hand. “We trust your skills and don’t need the details of how you came to your conclusion.”
    She transferred her gaze to Becca. “Odd to see you here, Becca. You working a case that involves a murdered girl?”
    “Becca’s an expert on Van Gogh,” Connor explained, grabbing Marcie’s attention. “Any ID on the victim?”
    “No, but then we didn’t expect it, did we? Not if Van Gogh’s behind this.” Marcie shook her head. “Again, I’m not certain of her age yet, but this girl appears to fit his preference for fifteen-year-olds.” Marcie fisted her hands and looked like she wanted to punch someone. “At least, if she’s in the foster care system, we’ll be able to narrow down the field a bit. There will be fewer missing girls to look for.”
    “Not necessarily,” Becca said. “She may not have been reported as missing. Foster kids run away all the time. Some are reported. Some aren’t.”
    Marcie’s eyes widened. “How can that happen?”
    “Most foster parents are on the up and up, but some are only in it for the money. If they don’t report when a kid takes off, the checks keep coming, and it’s one less mouth to feed.”
    Marcie grimaced. “That’s disgusting.”
    “Unfortunately, it’s reality. Still, it gives us a place to start.” Connor frowned. “Do you have a cause of death?”
    “I can’t be sure until I do the autopsy, but I’d venture to say from the ligature mark around her neck that she was strangled.”
    Strangled. Van Gogh’s MO.
    Becca moved toward the body for a better look. As she stared down at the girl, Molly’s face kept replacing Jane Doe’s, and Becca had to back away.
    “So is this a copycat or Van Gogh?” Connor asked, through clenched teeth.
    That’s what