Fuzzy Navel Read Online Free

by sight, without needing to use acid etching to bring out the markings. A.338 Lapua Magnum. A caliber specifically designed for sniping, and hopefully unique enough to be able to track. I have a team doing just that.
    “And did you see his hide?” Herb shakes his head. “Can you imagine the guy, squatting in a bush, facing the sidewalk?”
    If you want someone dead, it’s relatively easy to ring his doorbell and shoot him in the chest when he answers. Much easier than shooting him from two hundred yards down the street at a scheduled time.
    “This isn’t just about the death,” I say. “This is a game. A bunch of knuckleheads playing soldier, getting their kicks shooting sex offenders long distance.”
    I leave the next part of my thought unspoken – that a knucklehead could kill you just as easily as a pro. In some cases, they’re even more dangerous. Soldiers are taught patience and discipline. An amateur takes unnecessary chances and makes big mistakes, exposing more people to risk. This TUHC group might be easier to track down than an expert hired gun, but they might also hurt a lot of innocents before that happens.
    My phone rings again. I find it on my seat without taking my eyes off the road.
    “Daniels.”
    “Is this Jacqueline Daniels?”
    A female voice, rote and professional.
    “Yes. Who is this?”
    “This is the Heathrow Facility, you’re on the list of people to inform.”
    The Heathrow Facility is a maximum security center for the criminally insane. I’ve sent a few people there over the years. The arresting officer is always called if one of the inmates dies. They’re also called when an inmate is released, or escapes.
    “Who is this regarding?” I ask.
    “Alexandra Kork.”
    A feeling overwhelms me, like the shower has gone from hot to cold. Kork is one of the most dangerous people alive. I’d met her under another name, and her entire family consisted of psychopathic killers. She almost murdered me, and several people I cared about, in horrible ways.
    “What about Kork?” The words are hard to get out, sticking in my throat like chicken bones. A dozen thoughts run through my mind at once, the most pressing being
Please don’t tell me she escaped.
    “Alexandra Kork died this morning.”
    I blow out air through my mouth, and my shoulders sag.
    “It appears to be a suicide,” the woman continues. “She set herself on fire with some aerosol spray.”
    That sounds like Kork. She’d kill herself in a horrible way like that.
    “Are you sure it’s her?” I ask. “One hundred percent sure?”
    “The body was badly burned, but we confirmed it with dental records.”
    I picture Alex’s face, pretty as a model’s when I met her. Not pretty at all after we tangled. She’d gotten close, fooled me completely, made me doubt myself unlike I ever had before.
    One of the things I’ve learned as a cop is that everyone considers themself the hero in the story of their life. Even bad guys who killed children and blew up hospitals believed they were good guys. Everyone can justify their actions. Everyone believes they’re in the right.
    Kork was different. She knew she was the bad guy, that her actions were evil. It didn’t bother her at all. Or maybe it did. Maybe she finally realized what an awful person she was, and couldn’t cope with it.
    “Ms. Daniels? Are you still there?”
    “Yeah.”
    “There’s no next of kin listed. Would you like us to release her remains to you?”
    “No. The state can bury her. Thank you for calling.”
    I hang up and pop a few more antacids.
    “Are those mint flavored?” Herb asks.
    “Alex Kork is dead,” I tell him. “Suicide at Heathrow.”
    “World is a better place without her in it. Gimme one of those antacids.”
    I pass the roll to Herb, thinking about the last words Alex had said to me.
    “You beat me this time. But it isn’t over.”
    It’s over now, Alex. You’ve haunted me in countless nightmares, but you won’t haunt me