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

meetings, toGarth. He was right that she hadn’t been back in a long time. The meetings weretoo much. Having to admit that she had failed yet again, month after month.Feeling judged, even though the whole point of AA was supposed to be that youcould get better without judgment. All that religious crap, drilled into youwhether you believed in God or not.

Did Laura believe in God? Probably not,she thought. Right now, God was letting an innocent woman die because He couldn’tsee His way clear to show her another vision. Not even when she’d tried toclear the way for Him.

But then again, where did the visionseven come from? And if there was something out there, or someone, then itcouldn’t hurt, could it? She was desperate, and Laura had no idea how to getthrough this on her own. She needed help, from any quarter she could get it.

So she allowed her eyes to slide closedagain, and she prayed. Please, God, or whoever, she thought, imaginingher brain waves beaming out into space, penetrating the ether, reaching the earof someone or something powerful. Please don’t let this woman die because ofme. Please help me save her.

She kept her eyes closed, hanging ontothat last thought. It was a little reassuring, she had to admit. The idea thatif something all-powerful was out there, it might be looking out for her. Itmight hear her call and help, after all.

She floated on a thin stream of calm forthe first time all day, resting only in the moment. For just that moment,nothing was wrong. It was all going to work out. She was going to sort thisout, and—

A sharp stab of pain hit her right inthe center of her forehead, so powerful she almost cried out. Her handflattened sharply on the phone book, gripping onto the center of the page as ifit could keep her grounded, her eyes opening blearily on a too-bright room, herhead almost ricocheting with the pain—

She was floating in the air above aroom, an empty living room where a comfortable couch rested in front of atelevision. It was switched on, playing some evening comedy show. She waslooking down on the flickering lights, the only illumination in the dark room.They played over the legs and feet of someone sitting in an armchair, facingthe television.

Laura tried to focus, to see what shewas looking at. Who she was looking at. From above, it was hard to know muchabout them. A slim body, no way to tell their height, only the top of the headcarpeted with short-cropped hair.

A slim, straight body with no curves—shortcropped hair. Laura put the pieces together. It was a man. She was looking downon a man. Was he the killer? After a moment, she heard him laugh at somethingon the screen and then saw him raise a beer bottle to his mouth, taking a quickswig.

Beer. Her mind, her thoughts, zeroed inon that bottle. On the way it would feel to let that liquid pour down her ownneck. On the way it would ease off all her cares—

Laura’s attention snapped back to theroom. Something was different. Something subtle, but it sent a chill down herneck. Someone else was there.

The vision was infuriating. She couldsee only what it showed her, unable to cast her view beyond the dark andflickering edges. Like she was looking into a TV screen herself. But she knewthat the atmosphere had changed, even if the man in the chair didn’t seem tosense it.

She focused on him, on what he wasdoing. His attention was fully on the television, no sign that he had noticedanyone else around him. Then again, perhaps it was simply a housemate of his.But she had a different feeling. A feeling that this person, whoever they were,was not supposed to be there.

Her eyes darted across the scene overand over as she waited for something to happen. She was shown this for areason. Something bad was coming, and she knew it.

Without any warning, a pair of handsshot into her view. They were holding something , something she at first couldnot recognize. Then, as it slipped over and around the neck of the man in thechair, she thought she recognized it. A tie, a simple necktie with a dark bluestripe running across a light blue background. It was pulled tight around theman’s throat, yanking him back in the chair, making him tilt his head back and clawat his own neck.

Laura looked at his face. He was young.Younger than her. Not even thirty, she thought. His eyes were wide with panic,his mouth contorting as he fought for breath and struggled to get out fromunder the tie. His eyes were looking right up into those of the killer. If shecould just get closer—if she could see the reflection in those eyes—she mightsee that it was Ed Bronston—

Laura opened her eyes with a start,wrenched away from the vision too soon. At least she hadn’t had to finishwatching this one die, she thought.

But there was something that gnawed ather as she replayed what she had seen in her mind, searching for clues. A man.The victim had been a man. She was sure of it. This wasn’t just an androgynouswoman; he was male, completely.

And he was dying in the same way as theothers.

It was definitely their killer. Whichmeant he was changing his method. Going for a man instead of a woman. Trying tothrow them off the scent.

And, like a bucket of ice water down herspine, Laura realized something else.

Everything they were doing right now wasa waste of time.

Alex—whoever he was—would never heartheir warning.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Laura didn’t have time to think of aclever strategy to tell them how she knew. She didn’t have any time at all. Sheneeded to get them to change their tactics now, right now, or the man she hadseen—Alex—he was going to be dead before they got to him.

She had no idea who he really was. Whathis last name was, where in the city he lived. She knew that he was watching acertain show on television, but how would that help her in a