Read Online Kill Switch: A Vigilante Serial Killer Action Thriller (Angel of Darkness Suspense Thriller Series Book 1) by Steve N. Lee - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Steve N. Lee
Tags: Action Suspense Thriller
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even though she knew it hadn’t.
Maybe the reason they couldn’t find Elena’s daughter was that she’d either never come to Krakow with her mother or that she’d never even existed. Elena might be a kind old soul, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t completely whacko, living in her own drug-fueled reality.
“Oh, God, no,” Tess said under her breath. That was it. That explained everything. Elena was a nutjob who’d dragged Tess into her fantasy. A kindly old thing, but completely cracked.
Tess slumped down onto a beech stool formed from a single piece of wood cut and bent into a Z shape. It was stylish, but uncomfortable. Tess didn’t care. She had bigger problems than on what she was sitting.
She groaned quietly, long and slow. This was what happened when you felt sorry for people and tried to help them. That was why she had her rule. Why the hell was it so goddamn difficult to stick to it? No feelings. Ever. For anyone. It was simple enough.
Turning to the reception, Tess watched Elena gabbling on in Polish. Tess could imagine the stories she was telling the poor man in the white shirt and black tie. He’d probably been having a decent day up until now.
Tess slumped forward, dropping her head into her hands.
So what was the story this time? Maybe Catalina was a scientist who’d discovered how to turn water into gasoline and the Saudis had kidnapped her to retain their power through the world’s dependence on oil.
From what appeared faraway in the distance, Tess heard a voice, but she was too deep in thought to register what was actually being said.
“Oh, Christ.” Tess shook her head. What was she going to do? Okay, she’d feign a migraine. Excuse herself and head back to her hotel. By tomorrow, Elena would have dreamed up another crisis and roped in another stranger to help her solve the mystery.
That faraway voice spoke again. But this time, something clicked and Tess looked up.
Bright-eyed, Elena beckoned her.
Tess trudged over. She did not want to be dragged any deeper into this whacko’s fantasyland.
Elena beamed. “Marek saw Cat.”
Just like a cartoon character’s, Tess’s jaw all but hit the floor.
Elena continued, “Around nine twenty yesterday.”
Tess heard the words, understood them perfectly, but still couldn’t grasp their meaning.
“What?” Maybe she’d misheard.
Marek spoke reasonable English, but with the usual Eastern European accent which meant a lot of R rolling and guttural consonants.
“Yes,” he said, “she come asking for work, but we have no work, so she go.”
Tess pointed to the photo on the ebony-colored counter in front of them. “This woman? You saw this woman? Yesterday?”
“Yes, I remember because, er, well, she very pretty girl, you know.”
“At nine twenty?”
“About.” Marek shrugged. “I cannot be certain. Maybe, er, nine thirty.”
Tess looked at Elena. The woman’s drawn, gray face suddenly burst with more life, more color than Tess had ever seen.
Just as emotional involvement created problems, so too did detachment. While detachment was necessary to a degree, it had to be tempered by compassion. If Tess couldn’t temper hers, she’d be just one more asshole blundering through the world, blaming everyone else for everything that was going wrong, while not contributing one damn thing to making it any better. And if there was one thing which was certain it was that the world didn’t need one more asshole.
They thanked Marek and headed for the exit, Tess ambling slowly as the revelation sank in, Elena striding out as if she’d had a shot of adrenaline.
But Tess turned back. “Excuse me.”
Marek looked up.
“Do you know Jacek Grabowski?”
“No. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Thanks.”
Outside, while Elena bounced along as if going on a first date with a man she’d had a secret crush on for years, Tess struggled with how she’d condemned Elena so easily. Guilt gnawed in her gut. Her instincts had told her Elena was
Maybe the reason they couldn’t find Elena’s daughter was that she’d either never come to Krakow with her mother or that she’d never even existed. Elena might be a kind old soul, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t completely whacko, living in her own drug-fueled reality.
“Oh, God, no,” Tess said under her breath. That was it. That explained everything. Elena was a nutjob who’d dragged Tess into her fantasy. A kindly old thing, but completely cracked.
Tess slumped down onto a beech stool formed from a single piece of wood cut and bent into a Z shape. It was stylish, but uncomfortable. Tess didn’t care. She had bigger problems than on what she was sitting.
She groaned quietly, long and slow. This was what happened when you felt sorry for people and tried to help them. That was why she had her rule. Why the hell was it so goddamn difficult to stick to it? No feelings. Ever. For anyone. It was simple enough.
Turning to the reception, Tess watched Elena gabbling on in Polish. Tess could imagine the stories she was telling the poor man in the white shirt and black tie. He’d probably been having a decent day up until now.
Tess slumped forward, dropping her head into her hands.
So what was the story this time? Maybe Catalina was a scientist who’d discovered how to turn water into gasoline and the Saudis had kidnapped her to retain their power through the world’s dependence on oil.
From what appeared faraway in the distance, Tess heard a voice, but she was too deep in thought to register what was actually being said.
“Oh, Christ.” Tess shook her head. What was she going to do? Okay, she’d feign a migraine. Excuse herself and head back to her hotel. By tomorrow, Elena would have dreamed up another crisis and roped in another stranger to help her solve the mystery.
That faraway voice spoke again. But this time, something clicked and Tess looked up.
Bright-eyed, Elena beckoned her.
Tess trudged over. She did not want to be dragged any deeper into this whacko’s fantasyland.
Elena beamed. “Marek saw Cat.”
Just like a cartoon character’s, Tess’s jaw all but hit the floor.
Elena continued, “Around nine twenty yesterday.”
Tess heard the words, understood them perfectly, but still couldn’t grasp their meaning.
“What?” Maybe she’d misheard.
Marek spoke reasonable English, but with the usual Eastern European accent which meant a lot of R rolling and guttural consonants.
“Yes,” he said, “she come asking for work, but we have no work, so she go.”
Tess pointed to the photo on the ebony-colored counter in front of them. “This woman? You saw this woman? Yesterday?”
“Yes, I remember because, er, well, she very pretty girl, you know.”
“At nine twenty?”
“About.” Marek shrugged. “I cannot be certain. Maybe, er, nine thirty.”
Tess looked at Elena. The woman’s drawn, gray face suddenly burst with more life, more color than Tess had ever seen.
Just as emotional involvement created problems, so too did detachment. While detachment was necessary to a degree, it had to be tempered by compassion. If Tess couldn’t temper hers, she’d be just one more asshole blundering through the world, blaming everyone else for everything that was going wrong, while not contributing one damn thing to making it any better. And if there was one thing which was certain it was that the world didn’t need one more asshole.
They thanked Marek and headed for the exit, Tess ambling slowly as the revelation sank in, Elena striding out as if she’d had a shot of adrenaline.
But Tess turned back. “Excuse me.”
Marek looked up.
“Do you know Jacek Grabowski?”
“No. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Thanks.”
Outside, while Elena bounced along as if going on a first date with a man she’d had a secret crush on for years, Tess struggled with how she’d condemned Elena so easily. Guilt gnawed in her gut. Her instincts had told her Elena was
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