Read Online Web of Secrets (Agents Under Fire) by Susan Sleeman - Free Book Online

back to the floor and rinsed it with buckets of water, swishing it toward the floor drain with a rubber squeegee. He repeated the action with bleach again, then scoured the drain and turned on a large fan.
    “Perfect.” He was finished.
    Now, he needed to go home and do the same thing, just in case the police learned his name and came calling. He took the empty crate and carefully packed his mason jars, then carried it and the supplies to his car before heading home.
    On the drive, his thoughts went to his home basement—or his workshop, as he liked to think of it. He’d brought the first five girls there. Mother hadn’t minded. She’d liked knowing he was getting on with his work, but when Molly and Lauren had gotten away . . . oh my . . . Mother had totally shut him down.
    As a memento, he’d used each girl’s blood to scrawl their name, along with the date of their cleansing, on the wall. Mother had ended that, too, when she’d made him paint over it.
    Ah, the girls. Each special in their own right. They’d once made him feel powerful. Useful. But now, now he felt nothing but emptiness except on cleansing day. So what if Mother hadn’t approved of him resuming his work before he’d found Molly and Lauren? Mother was dead and gone in physical form. He hadn’t waited even a day before starting his cleansing again. Sure, she continued to speak to him but she could do nothing to interfere except scold him. No more ear-pulling or pinching. No more closet.
    Now he was his own boss. The master of his destiny. And tomorrow, oh, tomorrow. . . . That would be his big day. The day of expectation.
    He’d pull out the burner phone and voice scrambler he’d ordered on the Internet and dial 911. He’d tell them, quickly, but succinctly—no point in lingering—where to find Molly.
    Oh, yes, he could see it already. See the police scramble out of their building, running for their cars. They’d race out to the river, break down the building door. Then they’d come out with admiration on their faces, impressed with Molly’s sacrifice for purity’s sake.
    And then . . . then and only then . . . would his real search for Lauren begin.

Chapter Seven
    “THE NUMBER ISN’T NINE,” Becca said matter-of-factly, though her expression remained horrified.
    “Explain, please.” Connor didn’t want to make Becca rehash her knowledge of this madman, this creep who carved numbers into girls’ bodies and took their ears, but that was the reason she was here.
    “One girl . . . a young girl . . . fifteen . . . Lauren Nichols,” Becca started haltingly. “She was abducted by Van Gogh in the nineties but got away.”
    “Tell me about her,” Connor probed.
    Becca’s eyes went blank, all signs of earlier emotion gone. “She . . . Lauren . . . escaped. This happened before Van Gogh’s first victim was found. She saw three jars with ears in them, labeled one through three. Lauren had the number five carved into her stomach, Molly number four.” Becca paused, and a shudder claimed her body. “So that means there could only be eight murdered girls. And of course, I’m hoping Molly escaped, too. If she did, we’d only be looking for seven bodies out of nine girls abducted.” Becca drew her shoulders into a straight line, and her expression filled with resolve.
    Connor was impressed that she could hold it together, much less call up the determination he saw on her face. She was a tough woman. Stronger than most. After what had happened to Molly, seeing a foster girl treated with such disrespect today had to be tearing Becca up inside. Not that she wanted him or anyone else to see how badly it was affecting her, hence the squared shoulders and resolved look. But his training taught him to look deeper. That’s when he noticed that the color hadn’t returned to her face, making her large brown eyes stand out. She could be in shock.
    And she’d definitely be, if he told her about the second body.