Cold Death by Mary Stone (best e reader for android TXT) 📕

that small detail made the difference between Ellie having to slo-mo her way through every second of the feed until she recognized Helen Kline or being able to search at a quicker speed.

Even with that advantage, the process was painfully slow. Every minute that passed ratcheted up Ellie’s anxiety to the next level, because every minute she wasted here was another minute her mom was missing.

Countless people streamed across the monitor. Men, women, an entire class of elementary-aged children in bright orange shirts. She hit stop when peach caught her eye and slowed the speed, but it was only an elderly woman in a peach sweater.

Another few minutes elapsed before she paused the recording again. Her heart lurched. There she was, near the visitor’s desk. Looking chic and elegant in her favorite peach blazer and a pair of slim gray slacks. “Got her entering the museum.”

In the chair next to her, Katarina grunted a nonverbal reply.

Ellie’s nostrils flared, but she channeled her annoyance into the search. The next glimpse of Helen Kline came ten minutes later when she approached a modern painting comprised of bold slashes of color in one of the third-floor galleries. So brief that Ellie could have blinked and missed her entirely.

She dug her fingers into the wooden desk to help temper her rising frustration. “Most of these cameras are pointed at the cashiers or the art pieces on display instead of the patrons.”

The guard slanted a glance at her monitor before clearing his throat. “Right, um…well, the security is here to protect the museum’s assets, not really the patrons. I’m sorry about that.”

Ellie’s blood heated. “Are you saying that my mother’s countless contributions to this place are irrelevant? That all of the time and effort she’s donated to fundraising don’t qualify her in your eyes as an asset?”

The security guard cast a bewildered glance at Katarina, who ignored him and picked at her thumbnail. Her apathy toward this entire endeavor wasn’t doing much to improve Ellie’s mood, either.

The man tugged at the collar of his starched uniform. “I, uh, that’s not what I meant. I’m sure the museum values the work your mother does for them.” He checked over his shoulder, but there was no one else in the room to run interference for him.

Logically, Ellie realized that none of this situation was his fault and that she should let him off the hook. But at this precise moment, logic was taking a back seat to stress. Fine, so maybe she wasn’t handling this well, but who could blame her? Her mother was missing, and she didn’t have the time or inclination to mince words.

She settled back to work, checking the time stamp she’d jotted down from the first clip of her mom by the entrance and rewinding the parking lot footage to ten minutes before that. Two minutes in, she spotted Helen Kline’s Mercedes pulling into a parking space.

After watching her elegant mother exit the lot and finding nothing amiss, Ellie switched to the footage from the front entrance. Her mom climbed the museum’s steps one minute and forty-three seconds after the parking lot footage ended. Nothing unusual jumped out at Ellie. No strange men lurking around, and definitely no Kingsley.

From there, she skipped ahead again, to the time when her mom first appeared in the upstairs gallery. Combing through the images was tedious work and strained Ellie’s eyes. Forty-five minutes in, her temples started to ache. She rubbed the spot with her hands and continued to watch.

So far, she’d caught glimpses of Helen Kline in both third-floor galleries and again on the second floor, peering at a nineteenth-century portrait. After that, she’d shown up multiple times on the camera situated near the atrium. Three times in twenty minutes, which led Ellie to conclude that she was waiting for someone to meet her there.

As she continued hunting through the feed, Ellie’s hurried conversation with her mom that day in the parking garage before she’d found Fortis sifted through her mind. There’d been a lunch date that she’d agreed to and missed. Apart from jokingly asking Jillian to cancel for her, Ellie had been so wrapped up in the investigation that the meet-up had completely escaped her mind. Until now.

Her stomach knotted. If only she’d remembered that stupid lunch earlier, they’d have noticed her mom’s disappearance much sooner. Possibly even recovered her by now because Helen Kline’s perfect Southern manners meant never no-showing for a meeting or engagement. Ellie racked her brain, trying to recall what her mom had said about why she’d needed to schedule for a late lunch. Had she mentioned the museum or a meeting? Ellie hadn’t paid enough attention to remember, a fact that she could smack herself for now.

She never gave her mom enough credit for all her accomplishments. Not that a mom should need to achieve a bunch of stuff in order to gain her daughter’s attention. The truth was, though, that Helen Kline gave endlessly to both their family and community. Only Ellie had been such a crappy daughter lately that her mom’s achievements barely registered.

Not until after she disappeared.

Ellie’s heart was a giant boulder in her chest, crushing her ribs with the expanding weight. What if she’d squandered her chance to tell her mom how proud she was of her? Helen Kline was a force of nature. Ellie bet there were queens who hadn’t ruled their kingdoms nearly as well. Her mom had always run the family like a well-oiled machine, somehow managing to keep track of the house, appointments, school, family obligations, and charity work without ever appearing flustered or breaking into a sweat.

Ellie pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples in hopes the pressure would stop the tornado from tearing through her head.

Now her mom was missing, along with Bethany. Almost certainly snatched by Kingsley, yet they were no closer to sniffing out his hidey-hole than before.

Ellie dropped her hands and glared at Katarina, who idly swiveled back and forth with her eyes closed. As if