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Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set

Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set

Titel: Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Tess Gerritsen
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stinking of sweat and smoke, no more civilized than the dog. Her wrists were raw from the rope bindings, and her hair was matted and infested with fleas. For days she had been wheezing and coughing in the smoke that hung thick in their shelter. She was suffocating in here, while that filthy creature sat calmly stuffing food into his mouth, not caring if she lived or died.
    “Goddamn you,” she said. “Let. Me. Go.”
    The dog gave a low growl and moved beside his master.
    The figure squatting by the fire slowly turned to her, and in the featureless shadow that was his face, she imagined evils that were all the more frightening because she could not see them. In silence, he reached into his backpack. When she saw what he brought out, she froze. The firelight’s reflection gleamed in the blade and cast ripples of shadow along the serrations. A hunter’s knife. She had seen, at the autopsy table, what such a knife could do to human flesh. She had probed incised skin, used a ruler to measure the wounds thatsplit apart muscle and tendon and sometimes even bone. She stared at the blade poised above her, and cringed as he brought the knife down.
    With a sharp flick, he cut the rope binding her wrists, then freed her ankles. Blood rushed into her hands. She scrabbled away, retreating into a shadowy corner. There she huddled, breathing hard, her heart pounding from the unaccustomed exertion. For days she had been restrained, allowed up only when she needed to use the bucket. Now she felt light-headed and weak, and the shelter seemed to rock like a ship on the high seas.
    He moved closer, until he was right in front of her and she could smell the stink of damp wool. Up till now his face had been obscured by shadow. Now she could make out thin cheeks smeared with soot, a beardless jaw. Hungry, deep-set eyes. Maura stared at that gaunt face and came to a stunning realization: He was just a boy, sixteen at the oldest. But a boy with the size and strength to cut her down with one stroke of his knife.
    The dog moved close beside its master, and was rewarded with a pat on the head. Boy and dog both stared at her, contemplating the strange creature that they had captured on the road.
    “You have to let me go,” said Maura. “They’ll be looking for me.”
    “Not anymore.” The boy slid the knife into his belt and went back to the fire. It was dying, and already the chill had started to penetrate their shelter. He threw on another log, and the flames danced to life in the ring of stones. As the fire brightened, she could make out more details of the hovel in which she had been imprisoned.
How many days have I been here?
She didn’t know. There were no windows, and she could not see whether it was day or night outside. The walls were rough-hewn logs sealed with dried mud. A pallet of twigs covered with blankets served as his bed. By the fire was a single cooking pot and cans of food, stacked into a neat pyramid. She spotted a familiar-looking jar of peanut butter; it was the same jar that she had been carrying in her backpack.
    “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “What do you want from me?”
    “I’m trying to help you.”
    “By dragging me here? Keeping me a prisoner?” She could not hold back a disdainful laugh. “Are you
insane?

    His gaze narrowed, a look so dark, so intent, that she wondered if she had just pushed him too far. “I saved your life,” he said.
    “People will look for me. And they’ll keep searching, for as long as it takes. If you don’t let me go—”
    “No one’s looking for you, ma’am. Because you’re dead.”
    His words, spoken so calmly, chilled her to the marrow.
You’re dead
. For one wild, disorienting moment she thought that maybe it was true, that she
was
dead. That this was her hell, her punishment, trapped forever in a dark and frigid wilderness of her own creation with this strange companion who was half boy, half man. He watched her confusion with an eerie stillness, saying nothing.
    “What do you mean?” she whispered.
    “They found your body.”
    “But I’m right here. I’m
alive.

    “That’s not what the radio said.” He threw another log on the fire and the flames leaped up, filling the shelter with smoke that made her eyes water, her throat burn. Then he went to the corner where he crouched over a dark jumble of clothes and backpacks. Rummaging through the pile, he produced a small radio. He clicked it on and tinny music played, shot through with

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