Blake Pierce: FBI Mystery Bundle (Her Last Wish and Already Gone) by Blake Pierce

Author:Blake Pierce [Pierce, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2022-01-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THREE

The door beside her opened, and light from the hall poured in, momentarily blinding her. The stab of pain into her head at the light was almost too much to bear. “I heard you call out,” Nate said, but Laura was already turning away from him.

“She’s here,” she said, leaning down, hurriedly moving forward with shaking hands and legs, looking for any sign of disturbance, any mark on the floor. There was a caved-in sofa, no mark in the dust beside it. It hadn’t been moved. Neither had the armchair, the seat fallen in on a lopsided angle. Laura stumbled behind it, looking for a sign at the back of the room.

“What? Where?”

“I don’t know—under the ground,” Laura said, continuing her frantic search of the room. She kicked up the corner of a bedraggled old rug, and a clump of the fabric came apart from the whole. It was rotting. No way it had been moved any time recently. She felt sick to her stomach, the pain in her head was so bad. She had to keep going.

“Under the ground, like, buried?” Nate asked. He didn’t ask her how she knew. He never did. That was the blessing of having Nathaniel Lavoie as a partner: he never asked. He just trusted her. Any other partner would have forced her to either confess or lie her way out of things by now. But Nate trusted her “gut instinct,” and even as he asked the question, he, too, was turning to search the rest of the room.

“Buried in a—a box,” Laura told him, turning frantically and racing for the door. There was nothing here. The living room was empty. Somewhere, somewhere in the house, she was there… Laura crossed the hall, almost tripping and then using the momentum to fall to her knees, tracing her hands over the floor in every direction as she moved.

“Like a coffin?” Nate raced after her, yelling as he took off for the door at the end of the hall. The kitchen, probably. The door Laura had chosen led to a dining room, at least judging by the table and the single chair, and one or two pieces of rotting wood that hinted at other pieces of furniture long since gone.

Laura’s eyes traced patterns in the dust. Footsteps, all over the room. Maybe he’d taken the chairs elsewhere, or used them as firewood in the night. He’d been in here, a lot. Was that a disturbance in the dirt floor? Laura scrambled toward it. No—it was packed tight here, tight like the passage of time and many feet had done it. There was only a scuff where some old chair had been driven into the ground as it was broken up. God, why couldn’t she think? Her head was throbbing—if she could just think—

“Hey? Do you hear me?”

Laura’s back stiffened. Nate. He was waiting for her response. In a moment, if she didn’t give him one, he would call out her name.

She stood and bolted for

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