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

She took the force of the door swingingclosed on her forearms as she shoved through it, reversing the momentum. Thekid was running through the parking lot, in what seemed like a straight line.Laura kept after him, but she could see it was almost pointless. He was openingthe distance between them inch by inch. She pushed her straining musclesharder, trying to force them to a faster rhythm.

Behind her, she was aware of Nate’sfootsteps—but they peeled off, going in a different direction. She hoped he hadsome idea that would help. She could only stay on the kid, keep him in her sights.She had no hope for anything more than that. If she could just have a visionnow—if it would just come—if it would tell her where he was going so that shecould cut him off—

But there was nothing she could do.Running like this, focusing all of her attention on catching him, she didn’thave the mental space to focus down on each of her senses. And besides, whatcould she touch? When she had gone after the kidnapper, it had been her hand onthe grip of her gun that had triggered it. Now, she had no idea what would sether vision off.

She reached for the gun at her hip,losing a precious second of pace as she twisted to touch it. But there was notricking the visions. She knew she was never going to pull the gun on this kid,not unless he was armed himself. That wasn’t protocol. She had no proof that hewas a killer—only a suspicion that he was a petty thief.

The kid vaulted a low wall at the edgeof the parking lot and ran between two buildings ahead, a warehouse and whatlooked like some kind of entertainment center—Laura didn’t have enough time totake it in. She saw the thin strip of alleyway between them with diminishinghope. It was dark on the other side. If she didn’t catch him here, she wouldhave no way of seeing where he had gone.

She put on one last desperate, hopelesslunge of speed as he reached the end of the alley, knowing as she did that itwas pointless. She was going to lose him. He would be out of her reach—they’dhave to set up some kind of manhunt—have to track his phone or go to hisregular haunts—

And the car screeched around the corner,flashing out in front of the mouth of the alley so quickly that Laura couldbarely process it.

The kid bounced off the side of the carand hit the concrete, going down hard. The door was flung open even as Laurabreathlessly closed the distance down, and Nate got out from behind the wheel—dragginga pair of handcuffs off his belt as he did so.

“Kid, what’s your name?” he asked, asLaura panted to a stop beside them. They both looked down at him. He appearedphysically fine, though too scared or winded to move.

“Hunter Mason,” he said, breathing hardhimself.

“Hunter Mason,” Nate said, “you’re underarrest for theft.”

Laura caught her breath as Nate readHunter his Miranda rights, wondering if that was the only charge they would beadding to his rap sheet this evening.

She could only hope there would be onemore: murder.

***

“You okay to go in?”

Laura turned to see Nate coming towardher, a slim file in his hand. It didn’t contain much: just the details of the phonesthat had been taken, including their activation and deactivation dates andtimes, as well as the printed records from the store. They’d brought the kidback to the precinct, where he was currently sitting under the watchful eye ofa deputy in an interview room.

“Yeah.” Laura threw back the last of hercoffee and dumped the empty cup into the bin. “I’m ready.” She had recoveredfrom her earlier exertions, and the coffee had helped her to stave off both thetiredness and the small headache from her vision. It was no substitute for realsleep, but for now, it would have to do. It was getting on toward midnight, butif this was their killer, they would soon be able to get back to a bedsomewhere.

“Usual approach?” Nate asked.

“Usual approach,” Laura confirmed with asmile. “Go ahead, Bad Cop.”

She followed Nate into the room, theheavy door snapping shut behind them with a ring of finality. Hunter wasslumped over in his chair, his thin shoulder blades seeming almost to stick outfrom his body through his thin store uniform shirt. He looked like he hadn’tyet finished growing into his lankiness, like he still needed to finish fillingout.

He looked up with alarm as they entered,though he didn’t change his posture. He didn’t say a thing, just swallowed.

“My dad said I should wait until I havea lawyer,” he said immediately, his eyes wide and shining as Laura took a seatopposite him. Nate was slower to join her, slapping the file down on the tablein front of his chair first.

“Sure, we can wait for a lawyer to gethere,” she said. “You’re entitled to that. Unless you just want to speed thingsup and tell us why you committed these murders right off the bat.”

It would almost have been funny, the wayhis eyes widened even further, his face turning into a comic book expression ofshock. It would have been, except for the two dead women—and the third thatLaura had glimpsed in her vision.

“What the fuck?” he burst out, shakinghis head rapidly. “Murder? I—I don’t have anything to do with any murders. Whatare you talking about?”

“You want to play innocent?” Nate asked,his voice a deep rumble beside her. He slid into it so easily: the menacing,angry, vengeful man. A perfect foil to her helpful, innocent woman act. “We cando it that way. It will just take longer. You’re going to tell us the truth,one way or another.”

“No, I’m serious—I thought this was aboutstolen phones.” He looked even more panicked than before, his head snappingfrom side to side as he looked at the pair of them. His hands were gesturingwide on the table, his face pale and drained. “You never said anything about amurder!”

“Why did you think we might be lookinginto the phones in the first place, Hunter?” Laura asked.