Hearts of the Hunted Read Online Free Page A

that, another
woman apparently called her boyfriend and told him that she thought
she’d been raped, but she wasn't sure. He was pissed and broke it
off with her," Hannah made a sound of disgust and he raised his
eyebrows at her. "So anyway, she killed herself. Seemed pretty cut
and dried, no sign of foul play, and there wasn't much
investigation.
    "But her mom brought a
diary in and I caught a look at it. In the last few pages she
talked about strange things happening, like thinking she could hear
what people think. She killed herself because she was
Infected."
    Though he said it quietly,
we all glanced around to be sure that no one else heard. I sat back
in my seat, suddenly aware of how I'd been crouched over the table
in secret conference with a cop. He glanced toward my cleavage,
noticed the lack, and shifted his eyes to Hannah's breasts. I
banged my elbows on the table and startled him back to me. "Where
was she attacked?"
    "Same area as your friend
here. Here's her address, but the place has already been cleared
out." He pulled a notebook from his breast pocket and scribbled a
downtown apartment address from memory, and then he stood. "Look,
there's really nothing else I can do for you. I hope you find the
bastard before he hurts anyone else, because if you don't, the city
is going to go crazy real soon." He ripped the page free and
dropped it on the table.
    "Not much of a blessing,"
Hannah muttered as he left. She took a long swallow of coffee and
toyed with the piece of paper.
    "Are you okay?"
    She glanced up, surprised.
"I just—I never even thought about killing myself. I wanted to kill
the guy who hurt me, and then I was just angry with everyone when I
found out what had happened. I'm still angry with everyone. But to
hate what you are so much that you feel like you have to
die..."
    "We're lucky she did," I
said, and earned a hot glare from Hannah. I glared right back. "She
hated us so much that she thought she deserved to die. It wouldn't
take much of a shift to convince someone like her that all of us need to die,
and that she should be the one to help accomplish it." I glanced
around again and found my face burning with embarrassed
frustration. I felt so conspicuous in the little dress that it was
hard to imagine anyone not paying us attention, but no one was.
    I snatched the paper from
her to make myself feel better. The address was not too far from
Hannah's apartment. "Where were you attacked?" I asked.
    "Downtown."
    "Fine. Let's go to her
place and then walk from there to the area where he got you. Maybe
we'll see something." I tossed back the rest of my coffee and
stood, remembering at the last moment that I was wearing heels and
couldn't rock back like I sometimes do when I'm thinking. Hannah
saw me wobble and smiled sweetly before throwing out her own coffee
cup and leading the way out of the café. I rolled my eyes and
followed after.
    The walk was short, and
the heels weren't so high that my feet hated me yet. I drifted
close to Hannah and allowed my arm to brush against hers. She
glanced over at me, and the sadness in her eyes made my heart
stutter. "I'm sorry," I said, not sure what I was sorry for. But
she took my hand, and the weave of her fingers in between mine made
it well worth the small cost to my pride.
    "Here's the address," she
said, gesturing to an apartment building. "Should we go
in?"
    "No, I don't think we'll
really be able to find anything. She died there, but he wasn't ever
in there as far as we know, and Jack said that her parents took
everything. Show me where you—where he—"
    "This way," she said,
sparing me the need to say it. I squeezed her hand, and she
squeezed back, acknowledging.
    Apartments soon gave way
to businesses selling everything from books to boutique clothing,
and Hannah slowed at some of these, her eyes moving over girly
blouses and flowing skirts. "Seriously, you're thinking of shopping
right now?" I asked her.
    I lost her hand for my
attitude, but when she