What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)
Alexandra Ivy
DEAD RINGER
“If you read my book, then you know that I thoroughly researched the victims,” Carmen said. “There was no obvious connection. As far as I could tell they’d never met one another.”
“So if there is a copycat killer out there who is following Scott’s pattern, then his victims should look like this.” He tapped the tip of his finger on each picture of a dead woman. “Young, old, black, brown, and white.”
He tossed the book on the rumpled bed and returned to his backpack. Reaching in, he pulled out the photocopies of Polaroids she’d left on his desk.
“Look at the newest victims,” he said, moving back to stand at her side.
Reluctantly accepting the papers he shoved in her hand, she glanced down at the pictures. “I’m not sure what I’m looking for.”
He once again pointed to each picture. “They’re all young, they’re all white, and they’re all blond.”
She stilled, her gaze locked on the pictures. Even in the dim light Griff could see her face lose a shade of color.
“Carmen.” Before he could halt the impulsive gesture, he reached to cup her chin in his palm, tilting back her head to meet his worried gaze. “They all look like you. . . .”
Prologue
A voice in the back of Jeannie Smith’s mind whispered that she should be resigned to her ugly fate.
She’d always known that she was going to come to a bad end. Everyone had said so. Her mother said it just before the older woman had run off with her latest lover. Her grandparents said it when they’d kicked her out of their house when she was just sixteen. And even her pimp said it when he’d caught sight of the infected track marks on her inner arms.
A bad end was what happened to girls like her.
And it wasn’t like she hadn’t had any warning. Since she’d started working as a whore she’d been beaten, robbed, and dumped in the gutter. It’d only gotten worse when she’d left the streets of Kansas City to become a lot lizard.
Trolling the truck stops and rest areas along the interstate was considered the lowest of the lowest, even for whores. Which meant that it was only for the most desperate women.
But even after all the beatings and rough sex she’d been forced to endure, nothing had taught her the true meaning of horror until the john who’d picked her tonight.
Which was weird, really.
He was so handsome.
Dark skin, glossy black hair, and rich brown eyes.
The sort of dude who could have any woman he wanted.
Of course, that might explain why she hadn’t instantly been wary when he’d urged her into the long trailer attached to his semitruck. Not even when she realized it was equipped with a freezer. It was better than doing the john against the wall of the diner. Or on the hard gravel of the lot.
But as she climbed into the back of the trailer, she caught sight of the other men already waiting for her. Shit, she was in trouble.
She jerked her arm, struggling to free herself from her companion’s grip.
“Hey, there was nothing said about this being a party,” she protested.
One of the men stepped forward, his face wrapped in shadows.
“It took you long enough,” he snapped. “There’s a half dozen whores out there. What were you doing?”
The john holding her arm flinched. Clearly, the other dude was in charge.
“You said she had to be a blond. This was the first one I could find.”
The man in charge snorted. “Well, while you were dillydallying the rest of us nearly froze off our balls.”
There was a grumble of agreement from the shadows at the back of the trailer. Jeannie hissed in fear. How many were there? Four? Five? Maybe even more?
“You cleaned up from the last one?” the man holding her rasped, clearly attempting to hide his nerves behind an air of bluster.
“Of course,” the other stranger drawled. “Our previous guest is hidden with the others. Now it’s time for some more fun.”
The numbing sense of resignation was abruptly replaced with a savage need to fight back.
Maybe her destiny had been decided on the dismal day she’d been born. Maybe her fate was to die in a bad way.
But by God, she’d spent twenty years fighting to survive.
She wasn’t going down easily.
She struggled against the bastards as they strapped her down and ripped off her clothes. And even when they took turns raping her.
She struggled until her original john was standing over her bruised and bloody body, a crowbar in his hand.
There was a brief hesitation as he gazed down at her. Almost as if the man wasn’t certain he was prepared to commit the ultimate sin. Then, with the shadowed man whispering in his ear, he at last lifted the crowbar, swinging it with desperate power. There was an odd whistling sound as the metal cut through the icy air. Jeannie was strangely mesmerized by the sheer horror of what was happening. At least until she felt a blast of pain as it connected with the side of her face.
Then she felt nothing.
A bad end . . .
Chapter One
December 20, Rocky Mountains
The large overnight envelope was waiting for Carmen Jacobs on the porch.
She grimaced as she glanced through the frosty window of the front door. Her first instinct was to ignore the unwelcome reminder of the outside world.
She’d rented the isolated cabin in the Rocky Mountains precisely to forget the demands of her high-profile career. Or at least, that’s what she’d told her literary agent. And in part, it was true. She’d spent the past twelve months flying from city to city to sign copies of her blockbuster book, The Heart of a Predator. Her hectic schedule had also included TV and radio interviews as well as speaking engagements. She’d even spent a month in California, teaching a creative writing class.
Soon it would all start again when the paperback version of the book was released.
She deserved a break.
But the deeper need to retreat to this cabin in the dead of winter was to avoid the yearly madness that was a mandatory part of the Christmas season. She wasn’t a grinch. Okay, maybe she was a little bit of a grinch. But it wasn’t her fault. She was a woman without a family. And, if she was honest, without any close friends.
Usually it didn’t bother her to be alone. In fact, she preferred to concentrate on her career without being encumbered by people who would be a constant distraction.
At this time of year, however, she couldn’t help but feel the lack of intimate companionships. Maybe it was the sappy commercials. Or the sight of giggling children who darted through the stores. Or the distant memories of when she hadn’t been alone.
Whatever the reason, she always felt the urge to retreat from the world during this time of year. And despite the fact she’d just celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday, she had the necessary funds to grant her wish.
Sipping her morning cup of hot chocolate, she watched as the snow lazily drifted from the clouds, coating the porch in a pristine layer of white.
In a few more minutes the envelope would be hidden.
Problem solved.
She took another sip. And then another. The snow continued to float in the air. Silent. Hypnotic.
A swirling cloud of peace.
She tried to force herself to turn away. Her plans for the day included a long, hot bath. A leisurely lunch. Some prime-time romance in the form of a paperback novel. And later, a bottle of wine in front of the fire.
Nowhere in her schedule was a mysterious envelope.
Unfortunately, Carmen had one deeply imbedded character flaw.
Curiosity.