All the Pretty Faces Read Online Free Page B

did.
    He was also handsome and tough, all male sex appeal, but she didn’t want to think about that. Even if he had been interested, she certainly was in no shape for a relationship.
    She would trust him to get to the bottom of this text.
    He didn’t answer, so she left a message that it was urgent that he call her.
    Horror flooded her as she studied the photograph again. The woman looked so young, so pale. Her lips were devoid of lipstick, her nails bare. She was naked, her eyes staring wide in death. Worse, those marks on her face had been carved by something sharp. A knife or scalpel?
    Memories of Billy Linder holding that knife to her throat made her tremble. If she hadn’t noticed that photograph of Johnny on the mantel and used it to stall until Cal and Mona arrived, he would have choked her with that garter.
    She’d been so terrified.
    This woman must have been, too.
    Fighting another panic attack, she relied on her criminology training to analyze the details.
    In one hand, the poor woman held a broken compact mirror.
    In the other, she held a Mitzi doll, also naked, the face mangled.
    Her breath quickened. The Mitzi doll, a Barbie knockoff, had been popular when she was a kid, and it still was. She’d collected the fashion doll along with all her clothes and accessories, just like most of the little girls her age.
    Her nerves prickling, she scanned the crowd and sidewalk, the sense that someone was watching her mounting. If the person who’d sent the photograph wanted a reaction, she didn’t intend to give him the satisfaction.
    Of course it would be easy to hide among all the people. The town square was packed with locals, reporters, and tourists who’d come to catch a glimpse of the filming.
    More voices shouted questions at the mayor, and a few protestors waved signs and yelled for the crew to go back to LA.
    Growing more nervous about the text, she decided to go to the sheriff’s office. If this picture was real, a woman’s life had been taken. It was imperative the police know immediately.
    She reached the corner to cross the street to the parking lot, but the sidewalk was clogged with people leaving the press conference.
    The streetlight changed, and she blended in with the throng, hoping no one noticed her.
    As she stepped into the road, someone shoved her from behind.
    She stumbled forward and fell into the street, knees and hands hitting the pavement.
    The sound of tires screeching reverberated in Josie’s ears. Then she looked up in horror.
    A car careened toward her.
    A prayer floated off her tongue as she tried to push herself up. Her life flashed in front of her.
    She couldn’t have survived Billy Linder to die like this.
    Tires screeched. People shouted. The car roared to stop an inch from her just as someone helped her up.
    A pudgy man jumped from the vehicle and ran toward her. “My God, lady, are you all right?”
    Her head spun, the world blurring as she struggled to focus. A woman from the sidewalk rushed toward her. She leaned on the man who’d helped her to stand.
    “Are you okay, Miss DuKane?”
    Doyle Yonkers.
    Josie’s legs wobbled as she recognized the voice. How could she forget him? His voice was deep and gravelly. His beady dark eyes made chill bumps skate up her arms. She’d visited that pet crematorium to decide for herself if Dane had pegged the man correctly.
    Yonkers might not have been the Bride Killer, but a creepiness emanated from him. He could be dangerous.
    The driver of the car halted in front of her. “I’m so sorry, I almost hit you,” he said, sweat beading on his face.
    “Do you need a doctor?” the woman asked.
    Josie shook herself from the shock of the fall. Her hands and knees were scraped, but she hadn’t hit her head. “No, I’m okay.”
    Yonkers and the woman ushered her to the sidewalk.
    “Do you want me to call nine-one-one?” the woman asked.
    Josie shook her head and stepped away from Yonkers. His touch made her skin crawl.
    Other cars