Excerpts

Chapter One The homeless man's murder had been ritualistic, brutal, and efficient. Megan Elliott swatted flies that swarmed near the body next to the Dumpster as she squatted beside the victim. It was midmorning and the temperature was already eighty degrees. The bullet had gone in clean, execution style, behind the ear. All signs suggested that he'd been killed right here, in a narrow alley separating a parking garage from the historic Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament. There didn't appear to be signs of struggle, but here in the decrepit underside of Sacramento, that was difficult to determine. While the city did a fairly good job at keeping most of the streets clean, on the north side of downtown, away from the Capitol building and closer to the soup kitchen, the grime and unwanted bred. Here, homeless weeded through the garbage off K Street for something edible when the city rolled up the sidewalks; or they slept against brick walls, clutching their meager possessions in a desperate grip. No sign of struggle, and based on the lack of blood spatter, the victim had been prone when shot at close range. But he had the same outward injuries as the other two known victims. His hamstrings had been cut clean through, incapacitating him. His wrists had been duct-taped to something, as evidenced from the chafing and band of missing arm hair. And he was barefoot. "What are you thinking?" Megan stood and, though she was five foot eight, she had to look up at Detective John Black, who had to be close to six and a half feet tall. "All the appearances of an execution, but you're absolutely right. The M.O. matches the murders on the recent FBI hot sheet." And to maintain good relations with local law enforcement, she added, "You were right on the money there. Thanks." "His hamstrings weren't cut here. Not enough blood. No spray or cast-off." Megan glanced around, but there was no blood on the brick wall or in the alleyway. Where had he been attacked? Without touching the filthily clad victim, she inspected the deep gash in the back of his legs. She mim?icked a slicing motion with her hand and then said, "I'll need the coroner's report, but it appears that the killer sliced right to left, cutting both legs with an even, fluid motion." She stood and said, "Turn around." Black did, looking over his shoulder. She said, "You're much taller than the victim. If the victim was walking, the killer would have had to have walked up behind him and--slice--cut the hamstrings." She mim-icked the motion against the back of Black's knees. "It's the only thing that makes sense. If the vic was lying down, why would the killer slice his legs across?" "It would help if we could locate where he was attacked." Megan agreed. "If the vic went down on his knees, that should be obvious at the autopsy with bruising or evidence on his pants. But why shoot him here? Why did the killer move him at all after the inital attack?" Wearing latex gloves and plastic booties over her shoes, an attractive, well-dressed woman who may have been thirty on her last birthday approached. "Nice theory, but maybe you should wait for crime scene analysis." Black's lips twitched. "Simone, FBI Supervisory Agent Megan Elliott. Agent Elliott, Simone Charles, CSU Supervisor." Megan nodded. She'd worked with the prickly perfectionist before. "We've met. So, what does the evidence show, Simone?" "My team just came off a triple murder in the Pocket. Sorry for being late." She didn't sound sorry, but Megan noticed the red eyes and tight expression. She'd heard about the murder-suicide before she'd Excerpted from Sudden Death: A Novel of Suspense by Allison Brennan All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.