Free Cold Hearted (Cold Justice Book 6) by Toni Anderson Page A

her so badly.”
    Sometimes people didn’t fight at all. They shut down and waited for it to be over. It was probably the strongest survival instinct when faced with someone stronger, and more violent. Survival involved many things—fight, flight, endurance, and chance. Many rape victims froze and berated themselves for it. Many acted in ways that made no sense to observers dissecting events afterwards. Often victims couldn’t remember the details of the attack because their brain shut down so they could get through the experience alive. Losing the battle to win the war? Maybe. Whatever it was, defense attorneys loved it.
    Erin checked her wristwatch. “Time to head to the team meeting.”
    Darsh needed to set up a detailed timeline of the crime but in the meantime, he jotted notes to himself. The rookie scooped up the laptop with the recording.
    He pointed to it with his pen. “Cathy, I’d like a copy of that call sent to me, please.” He fished a card from his wallet. “I’m going to submit it to our lab for analysis. In fact, I’d like all the evidence shipped to Quantico ASAP. I’ve been promised it will get maximum priority.”
    “How long before we get results?” asked Erin.
    “Possibly by the end of the week.” Brennan had promised Darsh he’d put the burners under the lab techs and jump the queue.
    “Well, thank God for the FBI. I might start a cheer club.” Erin flashed him a quick smile, momentarily forgetting she didn’t like him very much.
    “We aim to please.”
    Erin’s pupils flared. And suddenly there was that awareness arcing between them like lightning in a storm.
    Bickham cleared her throat, oblivious to the sexual undertones simmering between him and Donovan. “That’ll be great, Agent Singh, thanks.”
    “Call me Darsh.” He gave the officer his best smile.
    “Yes, sir.” Bickham nodded and quickly left.
    “Why’s she so nervous?” he asked Erin after the rookie was gone, grateful to have something other than them or the case to discuss.
    Erin tapped her pen on the table as she read some notes she’d made in her book. “I think she’s a little in awe of the fact you’re FBI,” she said absently. “She told me once it’s her ultimate dream to become an agent.”
    “I can give her some advice about the application process when she’s ready. If she wants.”
    Erin smiled and Darsh stared like a fool. He kept forgetting how incredibly pretty she was when she wasn’t spitting mad at him.
    “I’m sure she’d appreciate that.” She stood, leaning a hip against the table, crossing her arms, revealing cleavage, badge, and sidearm. His skin got tight. His neck hot. “She also tends to be swayed by pretty faces.”
    He stilled. Raised his chin. “You think I have a pretty face?”
    “No.” Erin gave him a smirk that told him she knew exactly what he was thinking before she gathered up her notes. “But she does.” With that she left the room with an arrogant swagger to her hips.
    He found himself grinning. Then he stopped smiling and climbed slowly to his feet. He was in danger of starting to like her all over again. And you’re investigating whether or not she screwed up badly enough to send an innocent kid to prison, not to mention get two girls killed.
    Yeah. And that.
    *     *     *
    The crushing weight that had settled on Erin’s chest when she’d first seen the two murdered girls had lifted a little at the knowledge they were probably already dead by the time the 911 call came in. But ten hours later, she came out of the team meeting no closer to finding this killer than when she’d first rolled up to the girls’ front door.
    The TV news blared in the background, rerunning the footage of black body bags being loaded into the Medical Examiner’s wagon. Reporters had flocked back to town like vultures circling a kill. The smart money was on her for being the number one carcass of choice.
    So much for that vacation.
    Harry Compton, her fellow