Crown of Thorns: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller (Scarlett Bell Dark FBI Thriller Book 8) by Dan Padavona

Author:Dan Padavona [Padavona, Dan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-23T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

Bell stepped out of the motel room and into the night. She wondered where Clarissa Scott was and if the woman had seen the land drag the sun down. If she was still alive. No, Bell wouldn’t do that to herself. Time remained to rescue the teacher.

Since Gardy’s blowup, Bell had felt alone on this case. Outside of a professional capacity, Gardy still wouldn’t talk to her, and he’d remained stoic on the drive back to the hotel. Usually he invited her over to eat after work. Tonight, he took his sandwich and she hers, and they entered separate rooms without a word.

The peepers sang loud outside the motel. A silver mist crawled across the meadow and encroached on the road. She glanced around for signs of civilization beyond the motel lot and found none. Walking in the dark seemed like a worse idea by the minute, but she needed to clear her head.

And there was something she’d put off for too long.

After ensuring Gardy wasn’t peeking through his curtains, Bell inserted the key and crept into her room. She snatched the holster and gun, concealing both beneath an over-sized sweatshirt. Digging through her bag, she closed her hand over the hidden phone. A moment of paranoia touched her like cold, dead hands in a graveyard. She spun around to an empty room, the curtains cloaking the window, night creeping around the edges.

“You’re a little old to believe in monsters,” she said to the face in the grimy mirror.

Bell pocketed the phone, one of three burners Logan Wolf had dropped on her kitchen table a week ago—she had no idea how he’d broken into the apartment, for she returned to find the door bolted as she’d left it—and opened the door with one anxious hand touching the Glock through her sweatshirt.

The parking lot appeared darker than it had moments before. She edged the door shut, careful it didn’t click and alert Gardy. Then she turned the corner and jogged across the blacktop, casting glances over her shoulder until certain no one followed.

The phone reception improved near the road. A stand of trees provided cover. As she waded through a dew-laden meadow, a motel room door shut behind her. Instinctively, she pulled the gun from her holster and aimed it into the mist. Nobody followed. Probably just Gardy making a run for the vending machine. Feeling stupid, she holstered her weapon and dialed the number Wolf had programmed into the phone. She didn’t take note of the number, knowing it was pointless to track him. The serial killer cycled through burners and would dispose of his phone.

The phone rang four times. Bell wondered if Wolf was asleep. Did fugitive murderers sleep? On the fifth ring, the call connected.

Wolf didn’t say hello. Quiet followed through the speaker.

“Wolf? You there?”

No reply. Bell cursed the cheap phone. Then the eerie, musical voice of Logan Wolf, a Chopin piece played in a dark and somber key, spoke to her.

“What a pleasant surprise, Agent Bell. I see you located my gifts without issue.

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