Already Gone (A Laura Frost FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1) by Blake Pierce (notion reading list .txt) 📗

too tight to move. She couldn’t get herfingers underneath it. Something was behind her, supporting her—a body—his warmbody, pressing against her back and using her body weight against her. Shecouldn’t breathe. She couldn’t get a single gasp of air. She fought against thecord madly, her fingers scoring lines in her own flesh, glancing off the cordevery time and never budging it a millimeter. She kicked the floor, feeling himpull her away from it, the weight on her neck only increasing as she was liftedup into the air.

Carrie thought she heard something,someone asking her an urgent question. She couldn’t process it. She tried toscream, but the air wouldn’t come into her lungs. All she could do was make adesperate gurgle, kicking out with her legs and trying to catch onto the cabinets.She only hurt her shins and knees. In front of her she could see the kitchen,the tiny space with its rickety table and the lone tray of mac and cheese,still waiting for her. She was so tired. There were blank dots dancing in hervision, more of them every moment.

Her fingers fell slack on the cord, thendown at her sides. Carrie tried to breathe in one last time, but failed to findany air. The black dots multiplied, covering everything, and the last thing sheknew before her final spasm left her body was black.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Ah, there she is!” Nate exclaimed, as Laurawalked into the bullpen inside the J. Edgar Hoover Building. It was crowdedwith desks and agents, most of them occupied with their own calls and computerscreens. A few of them looked up and grinned at her, and a couple even clappeda few times, which only increased her sense of anxiety. She just wanted to getin and get her paperwork done, and avoid any awkward questions about how she’dfound the girl.

“Here I am,” Laura replied, without anyof his cheer. She tucked her hair behind her ears, hoping Nate would lower hisvoice. She hated being watched, being the center of attention.

“A coffee for the Bureau’s finest childrescuer,” Nate said, handing her a cup bearing the logo of a local chain. Not,thankfully, the office’s own machine. If he had tried to give her that, shewould have thrown it down the sink.

“Thanks,” she said, taking it from himand taking a sip immediately to hide her face. It was only divine providence thatit wasn’t burning hot. She swallowed the bitter liquid quickly, gesturingbehind Nate toward their respective desks. She hoped he would take the hint.

Nate turned and led her across the roombetween desks stacked high with haphazard paperwork, waving a goodbye to theagent he’d been engaged in conversation with closer to the door. “So, goodnight’s sleep?”

“Perfect,” Laura replied. Truth be told,she’d slept the sleep of the dead. Yes, she had Amy’s fate playing on her mind—butthat wasn’t enough to keep her up. Not after the exhaustion of three visions, adead run across a field and up a hill, a physical fight with the kidnapper, andthen digging Amy out of the box. It had taken all of her power to stay awakefor long enough to get home and into bed. She’d woken up with a start, though,immediately filled with anxiety that someone was going to know.

It was always like this after asuccessful case. The fear that someone would question her methods. That theywould ask a question she couldn’t answer.

“Great. You might need it.” Nate flashedher a grin as he reached their adjacent desks near the back of the cramped,busy room and lifted up a manila folder. “Paperwork.”

Laura groaned. “What is this? Paybackfrom the boss? Extra filing?”

“Maybe,” Nate said, and laughed. “No, it’sjust the standard stuff. I already started mine. Report on the events of theday, the forms to assess whether we’ve been through any trauma that might makeus a liability, et cetera, et cetera. You know the drill. Might take us the restof the morning, but it’s boring enough.”

“What a relief,” Laura sighed, puttingher purse down beside the desk and her coffee cup on it. The hum ofconversation in the room was already almost overwhelming, and she had no doubtit would be worse as the day drew on. The bullpen was chaotic, the space toosmall for so many agents in the square, uniform building of their headquarters.“If there’s one thing I love about paperwork, it’s when it’s boring.”

Nate laughed. “Here,” he said, handing asheaf of loose papers from inside the folder to her. Their fingers brushed asshe took it, and just for a moment, she felt a chill rising from the pointwhere their skin was in contact.

Laura froze.

She’d felt that same chill with just oneperson before. It wasn’t quite a whole vision, not yet. It was something moredistant than that. An early warning.

It was the shadow of death.

Laura couldn’t find a way to describeit, the way she might explain it to another person. It wasn’t a color. It wasn’ta sound. It wasn’t something she could see, but then, it wasn’t a feelingeither. It was somehow physical and yet intangible.

The first time she saw it, it washovering over her dad.

“You okay there?” Nate asked, regardingher with a puzzled frown.

“Yeah,” Laura said, quickly sitting andplacing the papers on her desk. “Clearly, I haven’t had enough coffee yet.Which my thoughtful partner has already seen fit to solve, so thanks again forthat.”

Nate chuckled as he took his own seat,grabbing up a pen and going back to work.

Laura pretended to sip at her coffee andstudy the first page, but really she was looking over the top of her lid atNate. She was trying to think, trying to quell the rising panic that wasthreatening to choke off her throat. She had never sensed death around himbefore. She’d had visions where he was present, yes—but in the course of acrime that they were both investigating. Never on a personal level. She’d neversensed that he was even in danger.

It was hard to imagine him ever being indanger, as well-built and tall as he was. He was sitting in his shirt sleevesnow, one big hand cradling the pen as he looked down at the form he