Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (best thriller books to read .txt) 📕

everybody around him. And he believed that Satan gave him the power to do that. Cutting off people’s arms…” He shook his head. “That wouldn’t do it for Zak.”

He put his hands on the table and stared at them for a moment.

“When I left, when I walked out of that tent and got on my bike, she was hugging him, holding him tight with both arms. He had his arm around her, holding a beer. And they were both laughing, like they thought I was having a jealous hissy fit and I’d be back in the morning.”

“What were your last words to them, Hank?”

He looked at me like the question surprised him. “I told her she was a fucking bitch and she didn’t deserve the family she had. And I told him he was no bro of mine, I never wanted to see his lying fuckin’ face again, and I would never forgive either of them for what they done to me.” He was quiet for a moment, remembering, then added, “Some of the bros around the fire were laughing, but most of them was pretty serious.”

“How serious is that, when a woman comes between two bros?”

“It’s pretty serious.”

We were quiet for a few moments. I glanced at Dehan. She said, “I’m done.”

I said, “Thanks, Hank. You’ve been helpful. We’ll be in touch…” I left the words hanging.

He stood and left without saying anything.

I drummed the table with my fingers and absently studied Dehan’s face, waiting for her to speak.

Eventually, she said, “It’s just stories. There is no way of checking if any of this is true. How do we know he left on his bike? How do we know he didn’t take a truck with a couple of bikes loaded on it? How do we know he didn’t leave with Lynda?”

“His story fits with Zak’s.”

She looked at me. “You like Zak?”

“If Lynda is dead, there is a better chance Zak killed her than Hank. I think we can be sure she stayed with Zak Sunday to Monday. I reckon Zak’s jealousy over Hank was greater than Hank’s jealousy over Lynda. Hank lost a girlfriend. Zak lost a potential disciple. He is a narcissist and a woman hater. I’m going to ask the Feds to send over a profiler and discuss Zak, Lynda, and the arms. We could be looking at two completely separate crimes here.”

“We could, but it would be one hell of a coincidence, wouldn’t it.”

We spent the afternoon wading through reports from all over the U.S.A. between 2003 and 2006 involving missing girls who fit what we imagined was the killer’s victim profile, plus cases of dismembered bodies. It made grim reading, but nothing raised a red flag. I phoned Bernie at the bureau and asked him to arrange for a profiler to come see us.

By six, I was beat and told Dehan I was going home. She said, “My car is at your place. I’ll come with you.”

We drove in silence through the darkness. Artificial light, mainly amber with washes of red and green, leaned in through the windshield and painted her face with lurid colors. The rain had stopped, but occasional spits gathered on the glass like broken, liquid gems. The wipers gave a desultory squeak and a thud, and then rested again.

It seemed like a long drive through the November night, but eventually I parked behind her car, killed the engine, and pulled the handbrake. She didn’t move for a bit, then gave me a sad smile. I gently punched her shoulder.

“Shakes you up, a case like this, huh?” She nodded, watching me, waiting. I smiled. “You want to order in? I’ll teach you how to play backgammon.”

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, Detective Stone.”

“I don’t. I think of you more as an unwitting victim.”

She sighed to cover her smile. “Okaaay, Stone, if it will make you feel better, I’ll keep you company for a while. We can order in if you don’t feel like cooking.”

I climbed the stairs with her just behind me and unlocked the door. I pushed in and switched on the light. There was a note on my mat, with my name printed on it, Detective John Stone. I bent and picked it up. Dehan was at my shoulder. I opened it. It said:

“Well, it took you long enough…”

Nine

I slipped it into an evidence bag and sealed it. Then I put it in my pocket and pulled my piece. Dehan stepped in with her weapon drawn, and I closed and locked the door. If the writer of the note was still here, they weren’t leaving. I pointed to Dehan to cover the stairs, and I checked the kitchen. It was clear.

I went on to the stairs, and Dehan covered me from behind. We made the landing. There were four dark doors confronting us. I signed Dehan to cover three of them and moved into the fourth. It was the small guest room. There was nobody there.

Dehan moved up to cover two of the remaining three, and I burst into the second spare room. It was a double and bigger, with two single beds. I checked between them and under them, and in the closets. It was clear.

The bathroom was clear too, and that only left my bedroom and the en suite bathroom. I burst in with Dehan behind me. The room was still and silent. Everything was as I had left it that morning. Except that I knew I had turned the bathroom light off, and now I could see light reflected on the closet door.

I looked at Dehan. I could see in her eyes that she had seen it too. She covered me again, and I stepped in. There was nobody there or in the shower. But there was another message.

He had mixed