Read Online The Profiler by Chris Taylor - Free Book Online

the sidewalk.
    The house was an old weatherboard that had seen better days. The lawn had yellowed from the frosts and a lack of water and was half overgrown. Incongruously, bright pots of colorful geraniums lined the concrete walkway, flowering bravely in the crisp winter air.
    She climbed the steps with Clayton and looked for a doorbell. There was none. The Fed rapped loudly on the cracked timber beside the rusted screen door that led into the house.
    She tensed when footsteps made their way toward them. The silhouette of a woman came into view. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage.
    “Mrs Caruso?”
    The woman peered apprehensively out at them.
    “Yes, I’m Jacqueline Caruso. Who wants to know?”
    Ellie’s lips tightened. There was no easy way to do this.
    “Mrs Caruso, I’m Detective Cooper. This is Federal Agent Munro. We’re here about Angelina.”
    The woman’s eyes widened and her face paled. With a shaking hand, she pushed a heavy, dark fringe of hair off her forehead and struggled to open the door.
    “I-I think you’d better come in.”
    They stepped into a narrow corridor that ran the length of the house. A tired hall runner in muted colors of navy and red softened their footsteps as they followed Mrs Caruso toward the back of the house.
    A modest kitchen opened up at the end of the hall. Like the rest of the house, it was scrupulously clean. The Formica counter-tops sparkled. Not a single cup or dish sat on the dish drainer. The tea towel had been left to hang on the oven door in perfect alignment.
    “Can I get you something to drink, Detectives? A cup of tea, perhaps?
    Ellie admired her self-control. The woman had to know they weren’t there to bring good news. Her restless fingers that played with the ends of the black-and-white checked apron that was tied around her waist, were the only giveaways.
    “Thank you,” Ellie replied with a quick peek in Clayton’s direction, “but we’re both fine. Is there somewhere we could sit? We need to talk.”
    “Of course.” The woman touched her head, almost reflexively, patting down a non-existent stray hair. Apart from her bangs, the thick darkness of it was pulled off her face and fixed at the nape of her neck in a tight bun. The look would have been severe on a woman less attractive.
    Her olive skin and chocolate-brown eyes hinted at European heritage. Ellie guessed her age to be mid-fifties, but it was tough to tell on a woman time had treated kindly. The dyed hair made it even more difficult.
    They followed her out of the kitchen and back down the hallway into a small sitting room. Solid, well-constructed furniture that showed its age filled the room. A small, old-fashioned television sat in a corner unit. Family photographs crowded the mantelpiece above the roaring fire.
    Ellie sidled over for a closer look. Her heart clenched as she recognized Angelina Caruso. She caught Clayton’s eye and moved her head imperceptibly toward the photographs. His lips tightened.
    “Please, Detectives. Take a seat.” Jacqueline Caruso’s hand shook as she indicated the worn blue two-seater sofa. Orange and yellow cushions nestled in each corner.
    Ellie clenched her teeth and perched on the edge of it. Clayton remained standing.
    She drew in a deep breath and waited for the woman to seat herself in the matching wing chair.
    “Mrs Caruso, I’m afraid we have some bad news.”
    The woman’s hands fluttered nervously. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything? A biscuit, perhaps?”
    Ellie swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry, Mrs Caruso. There just isn’t an easy way to tell you this.”
    A high keening wail erupted from the woman sitting opposite her. She began to rock back and forth on her seat. “Please, not my Angelina. Please, Detective. Please don’t tell me you’ve found my Angelina.”
    Drawing air into her suddenly depleted lungs, Ellie prayed silently for the right words—and failed. The woman’s daughter had been