"Linnea Sinclair - Rhapsody In The Key of Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sinclair Linnea)

wake, safe in his dreams of financial success while I chased a killer, and a personal
nightmare.
I went back to TruedellтАЩs bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, the same way
he had when the murderer had grabbed him. Realized I may not have a description,
but I did have some usable information about his assailant. Height. Shorter than
Kieran, who was well over six feet. Broader in build than Pavin Truedell himself.
Large, strong hands, rough textured. And an odd, pungent odor when he spoke.
And he had spoken. Right before heтАЩd killed Truedell. I clutched the edge of
the bed as he had and listened.
тАжтАЬI donтАЩt carry much money,тАЭ I whispered harshly. тАЬBut take what I have.
ItтАЩs in the top drawer of the dresser.тАЭ
тАЬIтАЩm not here for the money.тАЭ He paused, then hissed out my name. тАЬSnake
Eyes.тАЭ
тАЬI donтАЩt understand.тАЭ But I did. His use of my name told me this wasnтАЩt a
robbery. My visitor was a professional assassin. Question was, who or rather
which Syndicate had sent him?
тАЬLiar. You were warned.тАЭ He shoved me away from the bed. тАЬYou freaks
think youтАЩre so smart, so special. YouтАЩre just freaks.тАЭтАж
The EII collapsed at that point, because Truedell had been forced out of the
room, into the living room, and shot at point blank range. I knew it all because that
was the first EII IтАЩd taken in when I touched his body. HeтАЩd been murdered, no,
assassinated. Because of something heтАЩd been warned about. Because of something
he was. A freak. Which meant nothing and everything. It was a common term,
ingrained in the vernacular of so many strata, from theater to crime to music to
sports. It wasnтАЩt the term I listened for again, but the murdererтАЩs voice.
If living inside TruedellтАЩs memories for the past three hours had taught me
anything, it was that each voice had itтАЩs own unique intonation, inflection, cadence. It
was something IтАЩd known but not paid much attention to before. But Truedell had
been fascinated by voices, just as heтАЩd been fascinated by the music of the piano. If
he were a freak at all, he was a sound freak, I realized. HeтАЩd loved sounds.
With no images to go on, no images to distract me, it was all I had to work
with. The sound of his murdererтАЩs voice.
I would know it if I heard it again. Revenant Regression Syndrome might try
to claim my mind. But IтАЩd solve this case first.
I padded softly into the suiteтАЩs main room so as not to wake Kieran. I didnтАЩt
want to hear again how overworked I was, how I needed to refocus, reset my
priorities. But stealth was unnecessary. The room was empty, a hastily scrawled note
in KieranтАЩs distinctive bold writing on the bar top: In our room waiting for follow up
on some information. See me before you go looking for Iago.
I shoved the note in my waistband with no intention of complying, and slipped
out the door. I didnтАЩt want to face the pity in his eyes, again.
The leathery-faced man in the Taythis District Police Department uniform
stepped back as I headed for the lifts. тАЬMaтАЩam. Guests are required to wait in the
main dining room.тАЭ
IagoтАЩs detectives were evidently engaged in a room-to-room search, doing
what they did best. My field work was usually conducted over a different kind of
ground. I no more felt at home in their physical territory than they did in my psychic
one. But I didnтАЩt know how much time I had to solve this. Plus, if I sat in TruedellтАЩs
suite any longer, seeing only darkness, IтАЩd lose my mind before RRS had a chance
to claim it. I flashed my badge briefly at him as I passed. тАЬGood idea. But IтАЩm not a