Already Gone (A Laura Frost FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1) by Blake Pierce (e book reader TXT) 📕

Hi, VirginiaMan383. Nice username! Iwould like to meet up. I’m not in DC right now, but I’ll contact you when I getback.

And that was that. Laura figured shedidn’t need to really meet him. If she looked into him a little more andchanged her mind when she was home, she just didn’t need to contact him again.But if he was the real thing, if there was even a chance of him being the realthing, she needed to know.

Laura tried not to let it happen, but itdid, every time. She felt a flare of hope in her chest, the same place where ithad blossomed with regards to the case a few minutes before. What if this wasreal? What if she’d finally found someone just like her?

She had so many questions. For theperson who had made her like this. For the universe, if it wasn’t a person. Maybesomeone who was just like her would be as clueless as she was. But maybe hewould have some pieces of the puzzle, and she had her own, and together theycould figure it out more. Find a way to make it stop. To give her peace.

Peace was a little thin on the groundright now, and Laura would have given a lot to get some.

She got up from her chair, lifting hercoffee cup and gesturing at Nate. He nodded silently in response and passed hisown over. Laura walked out into the hallway, down a couple of turns to thecoffee machine, which was one of the only things she could navigate toeffortlessly in the building. A few hours into the job, and she knew where thecoffee machine was. You had to get your priorities in order.

She was filling up Nate’s mug, her ownalready waiting for her on top of the machine, when one of the sheriff’sdeputies came and stood by her, waiting with an empty cup in his own hand.

“How’s it going?” he asked, obviously tryingtoo hard to be casual. He was young. Laura guessed he’d never dealt with an FBIagent before.

“Would be going a lot better if thisstuff was stronger,” she said, giving him a bland smile over her shoulder.

He chuckled. “You can say that again. Oh,if you push this button over here, it’ll give you an extra shot.”

He reached out and pushed it for her. Hedidn’t even touch her. He didn’t need to. Because now they were intertwined,the lines of their fates running together for just one moment. And when Lauratook the cup from under the machine with a grateful nod, she felt the stab ofpain in the center of her forehead.

It took her by surprise—a vision comingout of nowhere. What was happening now? Was this officer in danger?

There was nothing for it. She grabbedhold of the other cup and turned away from the deputy, so that at least hewouldn’t be able to see her face when the stab of p—

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Laura was in a bullpen, looking over thedesks of the assembled men and women of the sheriff’s department. Some of themwere talking, others sitting behind computers and staring at the screens. Acouple were on the phone. One was just slowly eating an oatmeal and raisincookie.

Laura looked around, saw the deputy shehad been speaking to coming back into the room. He had a cup of coffee in hishand. He looked a little cocky, a swagger in his step. Like he’d just met hisfirst FBI agent and was feeling like a real cop.

“Hey, man.” He nodded to one of theothers in the room as he passed by, walking like he thought he was cool. He wasvery young, Laura thought. He put his coffee to his mouth and sipped at it ashe walked.

By one of the desks, a round-shapedwoman was half-sitting on a low filing cabinet, her back right up against apotted plant that was rocking precariously. She must have felt it beginning togive, because she lunged for it suddenly, shooting to her feet and grabbinghold of the pot.

She jumped right into the deputy andknocked his arm. The coffee flew into the air, drenching down the front of hisuniform. It splattered onto case files on the nearby desk, and Laura heardsomeone yelling, “Hey—”

Laura blinked, unable to prevent agentle sway as the pain of the vision receded slightly. At least she hadalready taken the painkiller. Maybe it would take care of this headache as wellas the earlier one, whenever it finally kicked in.

Relief flooded over her, some of thetension easing out of her shoulder. Not a death. Just a spilled coffee.

She hesitated, hearing the sound of thecoffee machine whirring to life behind her. The deputy was right there. Shecould delay things. Speak to him. Say something. Then he wouldn’t be walkingpast the lady right as she stood up. He wouldn’t spill the coffee.

Laura sighed and started walking back tothe office. It wasn’t her job to save the whole world. All her life she’dwarned people when she knew she shouldn’t. Tried to give them advice, whichoften got thrown back in her face. Given them hints of what to avoid, whichonly got her accused of setting them up or knowing that they were being set up.A few times, it had been her warning that had directly led to the person beingin the wrong place at the wrong time, because they were trying to see if shewas right.

And then there were the ones where somethingeven worse had happened. You stopped a waitress in a diner from getting coffeeon her apron, and maybe it was a six-year-old child walking by when the hotwater fell instead.

Laura didn’t like taking those kinds ofrisks. Not when there wasn’t already a life at stake. You tried to fixeverything little thing around you, and you’d end up with an even biggerheadache—and who knew if any of it would actually help?

Behind her, she heard the deputy shout,followed by a general uproar as the coffee splattered over everything in sight.She didn’t turn around.

“I’ve got it,” Nate said, as shereentered the room, already on his feet. He was reaching for his jacket. “Bothphones were purchased at the same