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

taking forever! And I would have snuck in, not torn the place up. I’m not a complete idiot,” she mumbled at the table.

Someone snorted, but when Katarina’s head whipped up, both of them wore bland expressions. The phone chimed as Ellie thumbed the power button. “Either way, I’m here now, so let’s get to work.”

They poked around a bit before opening the messages between Katarina and Kingsley.

As she read, a pit opened up in the bottom of her stomach. Each message forced her to relive the emotional avalanche that pummeled her when she’d realized Bethany was gone. First shock, then denial. The worst, though, was the icy terror. A wave so intense, she’d felt like she was drowning in fear.

That same terror lapped at her now and threatened to freeze her to the chair. She slammed her injured toe into the ground, gasping at the pain. Embracing it.

Good. At least pain motivates you to move. Fear is worthless, so quit cowering behind the table with your thumb up your ass and do something.

Katarina’s nostrils flared. Why the hell was she sitting here, sipping coffee and checking messages like she didn’t have a care in the world? She needed to act. Do something. Anything.

Her muscles coiled in anticipation. She was about to spring to her feet when the last text message caught her eye. Katarina eased back into her chair, frowning at the date. “This one was sent yesterday.”

Ellie leaned closer. “What the hell?”

All three of them peered at the text bubble.

18414072112258017182123110611421158222318170

“I’m guessing it’s some kind of code?” Jillian squinted at the string of numbers. “I just have no idea what.”

Jillian pulled three pens out of her oversized purse and tossed them on the table. While Ellie and Jillian transferred the numbers onto their napkins and brainstormed over what the text could mean, Katarina drew swirls on hers as her mind flashed to a memory. The first day when Kingsley sat her down at the dining room table and lectured about codes.

“Codes are often the perfect tool for foiling and befuddling even those people who claim to be of superior intelligence, which is why it’s important that we learn about them. The code I’m teaching you tonight is called the Caesar Cipher.”

Calm washed over her as she stared at the numbers.

18414072112258017182123110611421158222318170

After transcribing the numbers into letters, she ended up with Rdn Gulyh Qruwk Fkduohvwrq.

Her lips parted, and her pulse drummed a furious tempo in her ears. Katarina didn’t need to brainstorm and scribble countless letter-number combinations on the damp, wadded-up napkin.

She’d already deciphered the code. She knew exactly where that monster was.

Now, she just needed to hide that newfound knowledge from Jillian and Ellie.

Katarina rose and began circling the table, shaking out her arms and hands like anxiety was back for another round.

Ellie glanced up from her napkin. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine. I was feeling stressed sitting still, so I’m walking.” She stomped a few more paces for good measure. “And I don’t need you checking in on me every few seconds like I’m a baby.”

Ellie sighed. “Great, then maybe you could help us out with the code? This was your idea, after all.”

Katarina stopped and bent over the table, making a big show of inspecting the detective’s chicken scratches. Nonsense, all of them. “Maybe we should try grouping blocks of numbers together and searching for patterns that way.” Of course, the Caesar Cipher didn’t work like that, but it should keep them busy for a while.

Jillian rubbed her eyebrow and squinted. “Okay, but how many numbers do we think form a block?”

“I don’t know, let me see.” Katarina leaned over the table and pretended to grab for Jillian’s notes, making sure to strike the coffee cup with her elbow. The cup toppled over, and the lid flew off, spilling hot brown liquid everywhere.

Jillian and Ellie both jumped out of their seats like scalded cats.

“Shit, sorry! Here, let me wipe it up.” Plucking a handful of napkins from the metal dispenser, Katarina mopped the spill off the table. On her third pass, she swept the cell phone toward the edge and into her other hand before shoving the device into her pocket. “Ugh, now I’ve got more coffee on me than on the table. Be right back. I’m going to try to wash some of this off in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ellie muttered.

Both the detective and her roommate were too engrossed in reorganizing the notes that had fluttered to the ground to pay her much attention. She swept the streets and spotted the bodyguard several yards away, his back to them all. Good. Hopefully, the task would distract the two little codebreakers for long enough to give Katarina time to make her escape.

While they smoothed the napkins into neat rows on the freshly mopped table, Katarina slipped into the coffee shop through the patio entrance. She beelined for the bathroom tucked into the back corner but swerved right at the last possible second, shoving out the rear exit without breaking stride.

Turned out, teamwork wasn’t for her. No surprises there. Too slow, too many rules, and too damned annoying by far.

Ellie and Jillian had served their purpose, but now it was time for Katarina to face Kingsley alone.

Hunching her shoulders against the brisk night breeze, Katarina scurried down the sidewalk, turned into the alley, and put as much distance as possible between her and the coffee shop.

In the end, this was between her and Kingsley. One sociopath to another.

For a brief period in that house in Wyoming, Katarina had imagined a new life for her and Bethany, one where Kingsley still existed, just not in her orbit. The moment he’d kidnapped Bethany, though, she’d accepted the truth.

This would never end. Not until one of them was dead.

I’m coming for you, Papa.

33

Crumpled napkins piled up in front of Ellie like discarded tissues in a melodramatic movie scene after the heroine suffered a heartbreak. The numbers on her latest attempt at deciphering the code swam before her eyes, and a knifelike pain stabbed her