Sweet Spot. Susan Mallery

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ the only reason you’re here, Rees. Believe me. If I could, I’d toss you over my shoulder, haul you back to the car and hog-tie you so fast it would make your head spin.”

      She shot him a hard look. “If you did, there would be hell to pay.”

      He tore his gaze from her and strode down the corridor behind the guard’s hulking shoulders. “There’s always hell to pay. Believe me.”

      After walking for what seemed like an eternity, Duane stopped to turn his key in the control panel and opened the last set of barred doors at the entrance of the first cell block. They stepped through, and the doors clanged shut behind them. The sound echoed through the vast two-story structure like the slamming of the doors of Hades.

      Trent had never visited this particular prison before, but it was much the same as the countless others he had. A long hallway stretched on either side of them, barred windows black with night on one side and two stories of cells on the other. The scarred bars and dingy beige walls and floors looked like something out of a nightmare. A smattering of murmurs, shouts and catcalls erupted as they stepped forward into the cell block. Thankfully, it was the middle of the night. Otherwise the jeers and obscenities would be worse. Much worse.

      Rees tensed beside him. He longed to slip a comforting arm around her, to press her body against his side, to protect her from the scum leering at her from behind barred doors. But this was not the time or the place. That time and place didn’t exist. Not anymore.

      Between the open shower rooms in the center of the structure, a steel staircase rose to the second floor. They followed Duane up the stairs, their footfalls making the metal hum like a tuning fork.

      When they reached the second tier, Duane led them past two uniformed police officers and down the walkway overlooking the floor below. The cells in this section stood unoccupied, evacuated, their doors yawning wide and cavernous. Trent exhaled with relief. At least Rees wouldn’t have to face the prisoners’ jeers up close and personal.

      Two men in suits stood outside Kane’s cell. The taller of the two wore a double-breasted Armani suit and French cuffs with the pomposity of a man eager for people to think more of him than he thought of himself. If Trent had to hazard a guess, he’d peg the man as the prison’s warden. Though where he’d come up with the cash to dress in designer suits on a prison warden’s salary, Trent couldn’t answer.

      The other man he knew, though not well. Pete Wiley had been one of the senior detectives on the case the last time they’d met—back when Kane was still an unknown subject, or “unsub” as they were usually called. Unfortunately, the detective had been one of many local law enforcement officers that Trent ran into in his work who were resentful of the FBI. To put it mildly, Wiley hadn’t been the model of cooperation between agencies.

      Now the blond mop-topped detective shifted from scuffed loafer to scuffed loafer like a little kid itching to go out and play. Or, if Trent remembered the squirrely cop correctly, an adult suffering from nervous tension and too much strong coffee.

      The warden shook his balding head dramatically. Though he was talking to Wiley, his voice carried down the row of empty cells. “…and maybe this is for the best. Maybe now the Department of Corrections will give us money for improvements and extra guards instead of funneling all the state’s resources into the new Supermax and into shipping prisoners to Tennessee and Oklahoma prisons.”

      For the best? He hoped the warden was referring to something trivial like the boiler failing or the maintenance crew running out of wax for the dingy floors. He surely couldn’t be talking about the escape of a serial killer as being for the best, could he? Trent eyed Rees. The last thing she needed to hear was that some jackass in a fancy suit thought the danger Dixie faced was for the best.

      Hands balled into fists by her sides, she glowered at the warden’s back. A muscle worked in the smooth column of her throat, as if she was doing her best to swallow the damn fool’s words.

      Anger churned in Trent’s gut. She shouldn’t have to swallow this garbage. Any of it. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to just stand by and watch it happen. “What the hell is for the best?”

      The men spun around as if to pinpoint the question’s source. A wary smile broke across Wiley’s face. “Special Agent Burnell.” He nodded in Trent’s direction then turned his baby blues on Rees. His brows lifted in surprise and then lowered, as if he recognized her and disapproved of her presence.

      “This is Risa. Risa Madsen,” Trent informed him.

      “I know who she is.”

      Trent raised his brows at the detective’s hostile tone. Strange. As far as he knew, the two had never met, and yet Wiley behaved as though he held something against her.

      After more introductions, the warden shook Trent’s hand and then grasped Rees’s. “I’m sorry your sister was involved in this, Ms. Madsen.”

      “Thank you, Warden Hanson. I appreciate it. Now I’m wondering the same thing as Trent. What were you talking about when we arrived? What is for the best?” She nailed him with a challenging stare.

      Trent almost smiled at her pluck.

      The warden’s face flushed pink. “Not for the best, exactly. That was an unfortunate choice of words. But something big had to happen to get the DOC to acknowledge our funding problem. Heaven knows, they haven’t been listening to me.”

      He gestured widely with his bony hands, his face animated. “I hold the lack of funding responsible for Kane’s escape. I warned our state representative just last week we were short money for overtime and to update security.”

      He frowned and shook his head sadly, but no amount of acting could hide the I-told-you-so gleam in his eye. “The state legislature can’t ignore the problem any longer.”

      Anger rumbled in Trent’s chest. What a pompous fool. How could he be so insensitive as to even hint he was celebrating the extra funding Kane’s escape would bring? He glowered at the warden. “With Kane on the loose, more innocent people will die. In comparison, I can’t dredge up much sympathy for your prison’s funding problems, Warden.”

      At least the pompous money grubber had the decency to appear ashamed. “Yes, of course. I was just looking for the silver lining.”

      “There is no silver lining that I can see.” Trent glanced down at his watch. They had already wasted enough time on the warden. Time they didn’t have. “Let’s get on with this, Wiley.”

      The warden shot Trent an annoyed look and smoothed a hand over the front of his suit coat. “Yes. You’ll have to excuse me. I have some administrative details to attend to. Good luck, Special Agent Burnell. Professor Madsen.”

      “Thank you,” Trent said pointedly. He turned from the retreating warden and toward the cell.

      Wiley stood in the cell’s open doorway, glaring at Rees. “Why is she here, Burnell?”

      He leveled Wiley with a no-nonsense stare. “Do you have a problem with Ms. Madsen, Wiley? As a professor of psychology—someone who has studied Kane intensely—and the sister of Kane’s accomplice, she will provide insights that will be valuable. Now let’s get on with this.”

      Trent couldn’t help catch the grateful look Rees shot him. A grateful look he hardly deserved. Some nice guy he was, letting her in to СКАЧАТЬ