The Numbers Killer (Agent Victoria Heslin Series Book 1) by Jenifer Ruff

Author:Jenifer Ruff [Ruff, Jenifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Greyt Companion Press
Published: 2019-05-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Chris Roberts slowly reeled in his line, pulling slightly left, up, and left again, to get it unhooked from the twig it had snagged on. “Come on, Betsy. Come on, girl. There we go,” he whispered to himself. Once the line was free, he eased his way downstream, whistling, and cast from his new spot. He’d been standing next to the river for an hour, without getting a nibble.

The thirty-something blonde lady must have taken her luck with her when she left. She was a funny one. She had an edge about her, a nervous look, not what he expected to see on the face of anyone who had just spent time hanging out by the river. Strange that she was out there. She wasn’t dressed for the outdoors. He could only see her head, shoulders, and a bit of her torso. Her silky white top hadn’t fared well while she was fishing. Kind of looked like she’d had an unhappy spill in the sand, or a roll around in the bushes. Another poor office worker trying to snatch a break from a dismal cubicle and get some fresh air, like he used to do. He grinned. Or maybe she drove all the way here only to discover that nature is actually dirty, before scurrying back to the safety of her office’s four gray walls. He shook his head. Nah. Just before she left, her nervous look had been replaced with one of triumph. She’d be back for more.

He rolled his neck from side to side and reeled in his empty line again. Across the calm water, a small dark spot scurried about. A beaver. It climbed out of the water on the other side of the bank. Roberts smiled, content. There was no place he’d rather be, except maybe doing the same thing in Colorado, or Montana. It was the quiet hum of nature that appealed to him. The lull of the clear water streaming gently past, the whitecaps that arced over the boulders and rocks, the lack of artificial noise.

He set down his fishing gear and opened his thermos of herbal green tea. It was better hot, and in this weather, it would be tepid in no time. Winter was extending its icy grip into the fall season.

Back in the clearing, he had parked near another car. He would have heard it leave if the engine had started, so it was still there. Where was its owner? Might be nice to have someone to talk to for a bit.

He finished his tea and, with his hands inside his fleece lined pockets, stared across the river, taking a deep breath of the fresh, chilly air. He stepped back toward the cover of the woods to relieve himself. He gazed in through the trees, admiring the colorful fall foliage, until something caught his attention. The handle of a fishing pole stuck up through the brush. He chuckled. Odd—but not entirely unusual; wouldn’t be the first time a day with

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