Download Red Mist (Kay Scarpetta, Book 19) by Patricia Cornwell PDF
By Patricia Cornwell
The hot Kay Scarpetta novel from the world's no 1 bestselling crime author.
Determined to determine what occurred to her former deputy leader, Jack Fielding, murdered six months past, Kay Scarpetta travels to the Georgia legal for girls, the place an inmate has details not just on Fielding, but in addition on a string of grisly killings. The homicide of an Atlanta kinfolk years in the past, a tender lady on demise row, and the inexplicable deaths of homeless humans as distant as California look unrelated. yet Scarpetta discovers connections that compel her to finish that what she notion ended with Fielding's loss of life and an test on her personal lifestyles is simply the start of anything way more harmful: a terrifying terrain of conspiracy and power terrorism on a world scale. and he or she is the single person who can cease it.
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Additional resources for Red Mist (Kay Scarpetta, Book 19)
Example text
How about you? ’ ‘No one settles in London. ’ I smiled at that, just about stopped a blush. That’s how I had met Laura, trying to build up police sources, drinking in the pubs where the police hung out. I’d spotted Laura on the edge of a group of detectives. When it was her turn to buy the drinks, I got talking. I’d tried the flirt at first, we were around the same age, but I got nowhere. She had a husband and a child, and she wasn’t going to risk any of that. So I gave it to her straight. If she wanted her cases to make the news, if she wanted to have some control over how they were told, she ought to use me.
She put her head back, began to moan. She glanced over at Ben. His eyes were wild, his breaths trying hard to keep up, the gag making his face go red. Her ears still rang from the shots. The first shot had bounced around the room until it seemed to come back at itself. Then the second shot had filled her head, and she knew from the way the buyer relaxed that what had needed doing was done. Sophie began to sob, could feel herself shaking, her head back. All she could see now was the ceiling, brilliant white, flashes of blue getting brighter as the noise of sirens came in through the open window.
Henri Dumas looked around and checked his watch, a TAG Heuer. Five more minutes and then he was gone. He saw people looking at him. He shuffled nervously. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. Some kids across the road were staring at him, pushing each other, egging on one of their number to speak to him. He checked his watch again. The kids started walking over the road, one of them being pushed to the front, camera in hand. Shit. Not what he needed. He pulled out his phone. The crowds didn’t hear the crack of the rifle.