Reading books romantic stories you will plunge into the world of feelings and love. Most of the time the story ends happily. Very interesting and informative to read books historical romance novels to feel the atmosphere of that time.Famished by Meghan O'Flynn (most popular novels txt) đź“–
- Author: Meghan O'Flynn
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Book online «Famished by Meghan O'Flynn (most popular novels txt) 📖». Author Meghan O'Flynn
Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.
Graves stood at the front of the conference room, his eyes much too cool for the occasion. Prick.
“As most of you know, Alice Putrus was discovered this morning on the eastside, hidden under a manhole,” Graves said. “Preliminary data indicates that she died around November eighteenth. Our killer is moving faster. That means more chances he’ll make a mistake.”
Graves looked out the window as if he expected to see the killer grinning up at him from the parking lot, holding a dead hooker and waving a bloody Q-tip. But their killer wasn’t going to trip himself up. Not this guy. Petrosky pushed his coffee away as his stomach soured.
Graves turned back to the boards and pointed at Campbell’s picture. “At the Campbell crime scene, a note was recently found underneath the table. It appears to have been placed there using a dolly to lift the blocks after the killing. Like the others, it was written in the victim’s blood.”
Petrosky bristled. Was recently found. No recognition for his discovery, not even a nod in his direction. Looked like Graves didn’t want everyone to know his guys were goddamn useless.
“Why it was hidden is still uncertain. He may have been trying to lure authorities into thinking we had a copycat, at least until the writing was discovered. The different restraints may have been a part of this. Officers are looking into the November second press leak, in the off chance the information was leaked by our suspect to encourage the confusion.”
The off chance. It wasn’t an off chance. The killer was fucking with them. Bloody words smeared themselves across Petrosky’s brain. There was a reason for everything. There was a reason for Campbell. And if there was a reason for Campbell—
She’s in danger. It was a gut feeling he couldn’t shake.
Maybe she knows more than she thinks.
Don’t focus on her, or you’ll blow the whole thing.
Graves was still talking, but Petrosky was no longer listening.
One last visit can’t hurt.
Hannah sat waiting for him at the picnic table, her face as placid as the glass pond. He crunched toward her over frost-streaked grass and the occasional frozen leaf.
“Ms. Montgomery.”
“Detective Petrosky.”
He stopped walking, his back stiffening, but not with cold. Her squared shoulders and erect posture were a far cry from the skittish demeanor she’d had at the shelter. Something was different. She was different.
He sat across from her, tense and wary.
“What did you need to see me about? Did something else happen?”
He shook his head and watched her, gauging her reaction. Her features stayed even. Detachment, maybe? Had everything become too much to bear? “I understand you’ve been cooperative with the FBI, answering their questions about the other victims. I thank you for that.”
She nodded. Not speechless, not nervous, just matter-of-fact.
Muscles along the back of his neck tightened and cramped. “We have recently come across new information. I was wondering if you might have some insight.”
“I’ll help any way I can.” She looked him straight in the eye, not past him or at the lake like she had before.
“What I am showing you has to remain confidential.”
“Of course.”
He pulled out the list of poems, watching her face for a hint of recognition or understanding. “Do these words mean anything to you?”
She took the page, scanned it, and met his eyes again. “No.”
Not a single anxious twitch.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
He appraised the calm of her face, the evenness of her mouth. “If you happen to think of anything else—”
“I’ll call you.”
Maybe she didn’t need help after all.
He felt her eyes on his back as he walked away. Her boyfriend was gone, but as both LaPorte and Plumber the apartment manager had said, she certainly didn’t seem worse off having lost him.
The very air I breathed was different, lighter somehow, as if a suffocating fog that had always been wrapped around my face had suddenly lifted. Even the snow on the pond seemed to sparkle through the detective’s questions about a poem. A poem he insisted was connected to the killings. My father didn’t know anything about poetry, but that wasn’t what made my heart soar.
It was all because of Dominic. He knew my secrets now, and he still accepted each and every part of me, even the parts I had once thought appalling. I felt like a whole new person.
A better person.
I practically floated to the filing room to finish up a few things before our monthly staff meeting. If I could find a way to float to the meeting, Dominic and I could giggle all night about the shocked looks from his other employees. Oh no! It’s a ghost! In my current state, I’d make the least terrifying apparition ever. Which was kind of okay.
Noelle crouched by the bottom file drawer and squeezed a folder into place. “Morning!”
A twinge of guilt pricked my stomach. I’d been awful to suspect her, to avoid her the way I had. But that was in the past. It was all in the past.
“You getting a jump on the filing, too?” I asked.
“Yeah, I want to make sure I get out of here on time tonight. Got a hot date.” She closed the drawer.
“With Thomas?”
“Yep.” Her cheeks flushed. “Though I must admit, I don’t usually let myself get carried away like this.”
I knew what she meant. It was both exhilarating and terrifying when a guy could make you feel drunk and giddy at the mere thought of him. I opened my mouth to tell her how I felt about Dominic, how fast I’d gone from a crush to adoration, but there was no way Noelle would trust my judgment about relationships—after all, I had chosen Jake and professed my love for him even when he was causing me pain. “Looks like you’re falling for Thomas,” I said instead.
“Yeah, I know.” Noelle squinted at me. “Hey, you’ve got something on your—” She gestured to my chest.
I looked down and brushed off a few dark hairs. “Duke, Dominic’s dog. He’s almost always just wandering around the backyard, but we were wrestling this morning before work.” I closed the drawer, and it latched with a soft click.
“Quite the happy family over there, aren’t you?”
“It could be worse.” She had no idea.
Noelle stared past me at the wall. “Yeah, it could definitely be worse,” she muttered.
We both turned as Ralph entered through the open door. Noelle coughed and slid past him out into the hallway. He watched her go, shoulders slumped.
Ralph always looked so…hurt. Sad. Maybe I could talk to her about making amends with Ralph. Maybe she’d trust me about him. No one could say I didn’t understand what it was like to be hurt.
I followed Noelle, trying to ignore the tightness in Ralph’s eyes as I passed him. Looked like he wasn’t taking nearly enough Xanax.
By the time our staff meeting was over, I had almost forgotten about Ralph and his agitated gaze. Perhaps it was the conference table loaded with coffee and pastries. Maybe it was the banner behind the podium that demanded Imagine! in rainbow colors. Or maybe there was simply nothing as relaxing as listening to your supervisors drone on about teamwork for an hour.
Well…almost nothing.
The phone on my desk was ringing when we got back to the office. I raced over and snatched up the receiver, glad my hands had finally steadied.
“Harwick Technologies, Human Resources, this is Hannah,” I said in the higher pitch that I hoped screamed customer service.
“Good afternoon.” Even on the phone, his mellow baritone gave me chills.
“What are you doing calling me at work? My boss will be terribly irritated.” I couldn’t keep the amusement out of my voice. I hoped he could hear it.
Dominic laughed on the other end of the line. “I won’t keep you. I just wanted to know if you were free Saturday evening. I have tickets to the symphony downtown. I thought we could go to La Roseo right down the street first.”
“I would love to. But…I’m not sure about the symphony.”
He was silent for a moment. “Do you have other plans? Maybe another kitchen reorganization?”
“I thought you liked my mad organizing skills!” I wondered if anyone else in the office could feel my happiness radiating out at them, tickling their backs.
“I do. Just
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