Without Mercy: A Body Farm Novel by Jefferson Bass

Author:Jefferson Bass [Bass, Jefferson]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literature & Fiction, United States, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Suspense, Thrillers
Amazon: B01AFXVFP0
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2016-10-03T04:00:00+00:00

PART THREE

The Dark and Tangled Web

O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive!

—Sir Walter Scott, “Marmion”

The dark net: a place without limits, a place to push boundaries, a place to . . . sate our curiosities and desires, whatever they may be. All dangerous, magnificent, and uniquely human qualities.

—Jamie Bartlett, The Dark Net

CHAPTER 20

I BUZZED PEGGY, AT THE FAR END OF THE STADIUM. “Hey,” I said, “would you hold my calls?”

“Napping again?” she teased.

“Not yet, but I probably will be soon,” I admitted. “I’m taking another run at Miranda’s dissertation. Last time I nodded off at page six.”

“In that case, I’ll buzz you every five minutes.”

“You’re such a help.” I hung up, smiling. I still wasn’t quite sure what was happening with Peggy—if, in fact, anything was happening: neither of us had spoken about our unexpected evening of movie-watching hand-holding—but the air around us did seem different, charged with electricity, low though the voltage might be, and full of unspoken possibilities. But was I ready for possibilities?

I had just propped my feet on the desk and opened the dissertation to page six when my intercom beeped. “Heavens, I’m not even sleepy yet,” I answered.

“You have a call on line two,” Peggy said.

“A call? You mean one of those things you’re holding?”

“I know. But this is Captain Decker, from the Knoxville Police. He says it’s urgent.”

“Well, then, I reckon I’d better take it. Thanks.” I pressed the blinking button. “Deck, is that you? Long time, no see. How you been?”

“Hanging in there, Doc. Keeping busy.”

“Me, too. I like it that way. Keeps the ghosts at bay, you know?”

“Yessir, I do. Fact is, that’s why I’m calling. One of the ghosts. Our old pal Nick Satterfield. Bad news, Doc.”

“Well then, he must not be dead,” I said. “That would be great news. To you and me both.”

“It sure would. No, sir, it’s bad. Real bad.”

“He’s gotten another appeal? He’s getting a new trial?”

“Worse, Doc. The very worst.”

I felt an icy claw clutch at my heart, and then Decker and I spoke the dreadful words in grim unison: “He’s escaped.”

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