Chapters (66)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- France / 1666
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Massachusetts / 1892
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- San Francisco / 1927
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Cleveland / 1938
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Edinburgh / 1962
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Epilogue
- About the Author
- Preview of Broken
- Also by Kelley Armstrong
- Praise for Kelley Armstrong
- Copyright
I glanced over my shoulder at Kristof, and saw his mouth tighten as he read the same line.
“Guess I should move her to the top of my short list,” I said.
“Definitely. I’ve found one or two other possibilities over here.”
We finished the last few cases. When we were done, I had a list of six possibilities plus three very good candidates.
“I think I’ll get Medea out of the way first,” I said. “All three are in jail, and I have transportation codes for those cities. So it’s just a matter of getting to the prisons from there.”
“Do you want me to come along?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Then why don’t you get Jaime to help you locate the first one, and while you’re gone, I’ll dig up directions for the other two.”
“Thanks.”
We agreed to meet up back at my house, and I left in search of Jaime.
Chapter 14
14
I MET JAIME IN THE LOBBY AS SHE WAS RETURNING from her show. The business lounge was open around the clock, so she found directions for the prison easily. I took them and left.
To get to Amanda Sullivan’s prison, I had to walk fifteen miles beyond the city drop-off point. Most of the way, I jogged. I needed to stretch my muscles and shuck the faint sense of claustrophobia that settles in me after spending too long in any one place. After reading those articles, inactivity wasn’t the only thing that got my legs moving. The Fates said the Nix struck every few years, and that left the illusion that I had plenty of time. Maybe they’d done that intentionally, so I wouldn’t feel pressured into rushing, but those articles had made me painfully aware that just because the Nix struck on average every two years didn’t mean she wasn’t out there right now, lining up her next partner.
By the time I reached the prison, it was morning. I entered through the visitors’ door. Got to skip the security check, though. Good thing, too, because there was quite a lineup.
I slid through the metal detector, past the two women at the front of the line. Both were older than me, one maybe in her late forties, the other fiftyish. Mothers of inmates; I could tell that by looking at them.