Double Jeopardy Read Online Free Page B

take a break sometime tonight.”
    “That I can do. I promised Staci I’d visit.”
    “I’ll let you get back to work then. But seriously, Travis, don’t ruin yourself. You’ve got a loser here, and you’re tackling it under extremely adverse circumstances. Every now and then it’s all right to let the scum sink.”
    After Dan left, Travis returned his attention to Exhibit A, the first color photograph of Mary Ann McKenzie taken after her attack.
    He drew the photo closer to the light. His eyes were drawn to her shattered rib cage, her scraped, bloody face, her bruised breasts. He choked; his eyes began to sting.
    “My God,” he whispered to himself.
    She was a redhead. Just like Angela.

6
8:45 P.M.
    M ARIO SAT BEHIND THE large oak desk in his downtown office, his hands resting atop a green blotter. A gooseneck lamp illuminated his two visitors, but left Mario in shadow. He liked it that way.
    He gazed across the desk at Kramer, Mario’s most dependable enforcer, and Donny, Mario’s idiot nephew. Mario and his nephew wore sport coats, Ban-Lon shirts, and patent-leather oxfords. Kramer tried to dress like them, but, as always, it didn’t quite ring true. And what was that jacket made of anyway— polyester, for God’s sake? Christ, it wasn’t as if the man didn’t have enough money. He’d been drawing sizable chunks of change for years.
    Mario and Donny both wore gold, too—Donny around his neck and Mario on his pinky. But Kramer put them to shame; he wore three chain necklaces and two nugget-size rings. He even had a gold tooth. That was so like Kramer—always trying to look like a member of the family. Trying too goddamn hard. Mario should’ve dumped him years ago, and he would’ve, too—if the man didn’t scare him shitless.
    Kramer had come in to report. He was pacing alongside Mario’s desk. Donny lounged on the sofa by the door, biting his nails like a five-year-old. Jesus T. Christ, Mario thought. Donny wants to be a made man, and he sits there biting his nails, barely paying attention. What a worthless piece of crap. Donny would never learn the business. Or anything else.
    “You have news to report, Mr. Kramer?” Mario asked.
    “Yeah. Matter of fact, I do.” Kramer was a thin man—quick, wiry, elusive. Like a snake. His most prominent feature was a long ugly scar that stretched down the left side of his face. “The job was completed accordin’ to plan.”
    “Can you provide a few more details?”
    “You really wanna know?”
    Mario considered for a moment. “No. I suppose it’s best if I don’t.” It didn’t matter how much he worked with Kramer; the man made his skin crawl. Always had, always would. He was so much more than just an enforcer; he was capable of planning, equipping, staffing, and executing an entire operation, from start to finish, no matter how complex or clandestine. He was effective and efficient—he always got the job done. He was creative and innovative—he didn’t have to be led by the hand. He had connections everywhere—the press, the police, the government. He could obtain valuable information or plant false information anywhere he wanted. He had countless assistants, all of them willing to do anything, go anywhere.
    But he was also a sadist. Most hit men fell into their jobs because there was nothing else they were capable of doing. Not so Kramer. He was in this line of work because he enjoyed it. He was a sociopath who derived inordinate pleasure from cruelty to other people. And his fondness for fire was legendary. Just thinking about it was enough to make Mario grind out his cigarette. Life was safest when Kramer had no access to anything burning, no matter how small.
    Donny leaned off the edge of the sofa. His voice was high-pitched and tended to squeal. “Has anyone noticed he’s missing yet?”
    “Oh yeah,” Kramer said. “But they don’t know what happened to him.”
    “Then he hasn’t been found. Officially,” Mario said.
    “No. Not