Read Online No Escape by Meredith Fletcher - Free Book Online Page A

reason, that lack of appreciation made her angrier and more confused. She had felt livid, surprised and excited to see him all at the same time. That was something she didn’t want to do. Her emotions were too confusing now.
    He cleaned up really well. The black suit was clean and pressed and fit him nicely. It made him look a lot different than he had in the casual business attire he’d worn while masquerading as a coroner. He was clean-shaven, his hair moussed and in place, and the pair of Oakley sunglasses would have gotten him on the cover of GQ. His tie was knotted perfectly.
    Lauren stopped in front of him and folded her arms, looking up at him.
    Heath gave her a small, crooked smile. “By the time I realized you had spotted me, it was too late to retreat.”
    “Do you feel the need to retreat, Detective Sawyer?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” His Southern accent was more pronounced now, or maybe she was so used to the native accents around her that something different really caught her attention.
    “What are you doing here?”
    “Miss Cooper.” He spoke calmly to her, and that infuriated her even more. She was burying her sister, and he was butting in, catching her off guard the same way he had down in Jamaica. “Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk about this.”
    “Did you have another time planned?”
    “No.”
    “You came here because you thought Gibson would be here, didn’t you?”
    He hesitated a moment before answering. “I did.”
    Lauren sipped her breath and made herself speak rationally. She glanced over her shoulder to check on her mother. Madeline Taylor was doing fine at the moment, having some final words with her brothers and sisters. The closeness of those family members had made Lauren feel the slightest bit out of place, something she hadn’t experienced in years.
    She looked back at Heath. “I read over the newspaper stories about the White Rabbit killings. All of them. They’re all different. Different women. Different ways they were killed. Different times of days, weather conditions, a lot of things are different. I’ve also done a lot of reading on serial killers the last few days.”
    Heath didn’t say anything to that.
    “Most serial killers kill the same kind of victim in the same way with the same kind of weapon. The killing is an orderly series of events.” Lauren couldn’t believe she was talking so nonchalantly about such a horrible subject. The reading had been hard, but she’d always been good at research.
    “There are different kinds of serial killers.” Heath’s voice was flat, no-nonsense. “What you’re describing? Those are ritualistic killers. Guys who have hang-ups about something or a particular kind of person. There are also compulsion killers. Guys who don’t know why they kill other than whatever satisfaction they derive out of it. Gibson is an organized killer, always in control of the victim, in control of the encounter area. He plans out his killings, but he doesn’t do the same thing over and over again.” He paused. “Magicians don’t always pull the same tricks over and over again, do they?”
    Lauren thought about that, surprised by the question.
    “I’ve seen some of those guys work when Janet and I first started looking into Gibson as our doer. Some magicians work the same patter and stunts. Some try to come up with new acts every time you see them. But it’s all about the magic, about the performance.”
    “Do you think that’s what Gibson is about? The performance?”
    “You know his magic better than I do. Which kind of magician is he?”
    It only took Lauren a moment to realize that Heath had a point. Gibson did a round of shows, then he dropped out of the public view. When he reappeared months later, he had a whole new elaborate production ready to go. Sometimes the show was intimate magic for a group or a pay-channel broadcast. Other times it was escapology, a feat that taunted human endurance or even death itself, such as when