By Patricia Cornwell

Investigating the disappearance of 2 sisters in Florida, Dr. Kay Scarpetta follows clues that twist and switch, top her into the psychopathic depths of a jailed serial killer's brain.

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Marino’s voice sounds within her complete face helmet. “What it should,” she replies, shedding again to 80, flippantly pushing the handlebars, swerving round small, bright-orange cones. “Damn it’s quiet. Can rarely listen it up here,” Marino says from the keep watch over tower. It’s speculated to be quiet, she thinks. The V-Rod is a Harley that’s quiet, a race motorcycle that appears like a street motorbike and doesn’t draw cognizance to itself. Leaning again within the seat, she eases her velocity to sixty and together with her thumb tightens the friction screw to carry the throttle in a free model of cruise keep watch over. She leans right into a curve and pulls a forty-caliber Glock pistol out of a holster outfitted into definitely the right thigh of her black ballistic pants. “Nobody down range,” she transmits. “You’re transparent. ” “Okay. Pop ’em. ” From the regulate tower, Marino watches Lucy sweep round the tight curve on the north finish of the mile-long song. He scans the excessive earthworks, scans the blue sky, the grassy firing levels, the line that cuts during the center of the grounds, then the hangar and runway approximately half of one mile away. He makes definite no team of workers, automobiles or plane are within the quarter. whilst the tune is sizzling, not anything is authorized inside of a mile of it. Even the airspace is particular. He studies a mix of feelings while he watches Lucy. Her fearlessness and plentiful talents provoke him. He loves her and resents her, and part of him would like to not care approximately her in any respect. in a single vital means, she’s like her aunt, makes him think unacceptable to this kind of girls he secretly likes yet doesn’t have the braveness to pursue. He watches Lucy velocity round the song, maneuvering her new hot-rod motorcycle as though it truly is a part of her and he thinks approximately Scarpetta on her method to the airport, on her method to see Benton. “Going scorching in five,” he says into the mic. past the glass, Lucy’s black determine at the modern, black motorcycle speeds easily, virtually silently. Marino detects her correct arm movement as she holds the pistol shut in, her elbow tucked in to her waist so the wind doesn’t rip the weapon out of her hand. He watches seconds tick off at the electronic clock equipped into the console and on the count number of 5 presses the button for sector . at the east facet of the song, small, around, steel objectives pop up and quick fall again in loud, flat clanks as forty-caliber rounds chew into them. Lucy doesn’t leave out. She makes it glance effortless. “Long variety on base,” her voice fills his headset. “Downwind? ” “Roger. ” His footsteps are loud and excited as he walks quick down the hallways. He can pay attention what he feels within the method his booted ft movement over the scarred previous wooden, and he consists of the shotgun. He contains the shoebox that holds the airbrush, the pink paint and the stencil. he's ready. “Now you’ll say you’re sorry,” he says to the open doorway on the finish of the corridor. “Now you get what you deserve,” he says as he walks quick and loudly. He walks into the stench. it truly is like a wall whilst he walks throughout the doorway, worse than out by means of the pit. contained in the room, the air doesn’t stir and the lifeless stench has nowhere to move and he stares, surprised.

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