Читать книгу A Deadly Game - Virginia Smith - Страница 9

Rich men died just as easily as poor men. As he looked down at the body before his feet, that fact disturbed the killer even more than the act he’d just committed. In the end, money bought no advantage. The wealthy, too, fell victim to the great equalizer of men—death.

Killer. A shudder rippled through his frame at the word. That was how he must now think of himself. He’d sunk to a new low, performed an act he had not considered himself capable of. Murder.

A fleeting wave of regret passed through him, but he dismissed it impatiently and returned his weapon, a computer laptop cord, to its place on the credenza. He’d had no choice. The man’s death was his own fault. He could have cooperated, made them both some money. Instead, he’d resorted to threats. Well, this was one rich man who would never threaten to expose anyone again, would he?

The killer glanced at his watch. Not much time. If he were caught here, everything would fall apart. They’d convict him of a whole list of crimes, a list that started with murder. Even if the police didn’t catch him, there were others who would, and he feared them even more. He may yet end up as dead as his victim. Adrenaline and fear in equal measures coursed through his body and his gaze slid around the office. So many possible hiding places. Where to start?

Ten minutes later, he could no longer ignore the compelling urge to flee. He hadn’t found a thing. But he wasn’t ready to give up yet, not by a long shot.

He let himself out of the office and hurried to the secretary’s desk out front. A quick search of the drawers paid off. From a file labeled Personal Receipts in neat block letters, he extracted a cell phone bill and copied down the name, address and phone number printed at the top. Then he slid the file back in place and closed the drawer. Two smiling faces peered into his from a framed photograph on the corner of the desk, a young woman and a child with golden curls.

A smile crept across his lips as he committed the faces to memory.