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

dish towel had slipped away. “This is the work of the same guy,no doubt. The lady here is Nadia. Her son was sleeping upstairs while she wasstrangled to death.”

Laura’s heart clenched desperately athis words. They were said so casually as to sound bitter; Sheriff Lonsdale,too, seemed to find the situation deplorable. But Laura’s pain hit twice as hard,then three times. Once, for Lacey. Twice, for the other little girl she hadn’tyet been able to rescue: Amy. Laura thought of either of them dealing with theloss of a parent and it made her blink back tears. Mostly because Laceyeffectively had—and Amy was going to.

“Is he okay?” she asked, one hand goingup to her chest.

“Oh, yes,” Lonsdale said, his voicesoftening as he looked her over, realizing he had caused unnecessary worry withhis words. “Yes, the little lad is fine. His father came home and found thebody, and the boy was still sound asleep up there, none the wiser. He’s beentaken to a neighbor.”

“It looks to have all the usualhallmarks,” Nate commented, seemingly unaffected by their conversation. He didn’thave children, Laura thought, uncharitably. A moment later she reprimandedherself. The boy was fine. Nate was getting on with the job of getting justicefor his mother. “I can’t see anything that stands out as different.”

“Me either,” Laura said, swallowing hardand fighting to come back to a professional standard. Of course, she knewfirsthand that nothing was different. She’d seen it.

“Well, shall we go talk to the husband?”Nate asked. “Get his statement before he collapses?”

“Good idea,” the sheriff said, gesturingtoward the door. “He’s right outside. Name’s Paul.”

“We saw him on the way in, I believe,”Laura said, nodding. She nodded one more time to Nate, an unspokencommunication. “Thanks, Sheriff. We’ll wait to hear the preliminary forensicreport—I guess, tomorrow morning?”

“Right,” he agreed, as Laura turned andled Nate back outside.

She headed right for the bearded man shehad seen earlier. He was easy to spot: the only one not in a uniform, the onlyone standing around idly, the only one who looked like he still had no idea whatwas going on. He was tall and broad, his arms folded across his chest with theair of a linebacker, but he couldn’t have looked more lost. Laura felt terriblefor him. He’d had the shock of his life, coming home and finding his wife likethat. If she had been able to get here quicker and save him that, Laura wouldhave.

“Excuse me,” she said, feeling the coldair of the night on her face again. It was welcome right now. It kept her awakeand alert, soothed off the sickness in her stomach at the thought of Nadia’seyes as she died. “You’re the victim’s husband?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I…” He stopped,seemingly at a loss as for what to say.

Laura gave him a sad, sympathetic smile.“We’d like to talk to you for a moment, if you can. I’m FBI Agent Laura Frost,and this is my partner, Agent Nathaniel Lavoie.”

Paul looked at her sharply for a moment,and gave a bark of unhumorous laughter. She thought he was probably thinkingthat he didn’t know if he could do anything right now. “Okay,” he said, though,and so she took the opportunity to press on.

“Do you know if there is any reason whysomeone would want to harm your wife? Or hurt you?” she asked. It wasn’t asthough she thought he was going to come up with anything. Nothing had come upwith the other two women. But there was always the possibility that this onewas going to be the one that cracked the whole case wide open.

“No, no one,” Paul said. He wasdistracted, looking back toward the house often. His eyes had a glazed look tothem. He still hadn’t processed things properly. “Why would they?”

“Well, it’s entirely possible this was amore random crime,” Laura said, trying to keep her voice even and calm despitethe fact that it made her so angry. To think of this woman cut down in herprime, her son left without a mother—just because this killer wanted a victim,and anyone would do? “Have you noticed anything unusual over the past few days?Anyone in the neighborhood that you didn’t recognize?”

“No, nothing like that either,” Paulsaid, running his hand over his hair. He turned and froze; Laura followed hisgaze and saw that he was looking at a half-deflated ball on the lawn, obviouslyone of his son’s toys. “Ashton. My—my son. I should go and check…”

“Of course,” Laura said quickly. Shecould see that he wasn’t in his right mind right now. Her questions were barelygetting through to him at all. She glanced up at Nate, checking whether hewanted to say anything before they let him go.

“Just let us know your contact details,sir, if you would,” Nate added, his voice low yet brisk. “So that we can get intouch with you if we have any more questions later.”

“Sure.” Paul reached into his backpocket and pulled out a wallet, extricating a business card from it. He handedit to Nate, who responded in kind with one of his own. With the exchangecomplete, Paul slipped away, moving through the stream of law enforcementprofessionals and heading next door.

“Huh,” Nate said.

Laura looked around at him; he wasstudying the business card with a raised eyebrow. It looked tiny in his largehands. “What?”

He turned it without a word, allowingher to read it for herself. Paul Frost, Realtor.

Paul Frost.

“Hey,” Laura said, reaching out to snagthe sleeve of a deputy that was just passing by. “What’s the victim’s fullname?”

He stared at her like she’d asked him toname the seventy-nine moons of Jupiter. “Uh… Nadia Frost?”

Laura let him go, reeling.

Frost.

She had a terrible, terrible feelingthat she finally understood what was happening here.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Laura turned and strode forward,marching right off the property and out into the road. Behind her, she heardNate call her name and then run to catch up.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked,getting level with her again just as she reached the car.

“Back to the precinct,” she said. “Comeon. Get in.”

Nate made a confused noise. “Why? Wehaven’t had a good look at the rest of the house yet.”

“We don’t need to. Get in,