+18 - FEATURED - #1 Thriller
A unique city. A unique police team led by a unique woman. And an uptight fed set on a collision course.
Declan Brockner is a sullen FBI agent. Once an outstanding profiler, now fallen from grace and office, his...
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The warrants hadn't arrived when they went back to the principal's office, where Fred still guarded the door like he'd been there only a few minutes—go beat a sniper's patience. Gillian strode out of the school and called Tanya for an update. Next she called her father, who didn't take the call, what a surprise. So she called his secretary.
"Look, Fran, I know he's pissed, but I really need him to know about this," she said, before the secretary could come up with any lame excuse. "So write this down and give it to him asap."
Francine had been King Gillian's secretary for ten years, and his in-and-out mistress for the last six, and she knew when he or his daughter were serious. So she grabbed pen and paper and just said, "Shoot."
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King Gillian strode into the SCU office hardly a minute later. Sixty-five, tall and slim, his light hair specked with white, he always wore classy tailored suits. He didn't knock. He never knocked on any door. And he didn't ask questions: he commanded. There was a poise to him that made it impossible not to notice him wherever he was, and he always behaved as if he owned the place. He was used to people making way for him.
Tanya and Kurt looked up, startled, and felt a chill at the glare of his dark blue eyes in his hardened face. Everybody with a healthy self-preservation instinct felt a chill when he glared like that.
He was about to speak when he saw the two long boards at one of the side walls, resting on piles of old files from other departments. His glare moved over the pictures of girls. Below them, there were names, dates, places, and another word: roofied, forced, con.
The other two heard him murmur, "So many!"
On a third board, there were pictures of boys and grownups: Johnson's buddies and adults suspected of covering up for him—the principal, teachers, parents, doctors.
"Jesus Christ!" muttered King Gillian, and turned to Tanya. "Give me the full list of names. Those too," he added, pointing at the third board.
He stared at the boards for a long moment, then produced his phone, dialed and barked, "Get Cook to my office in five minutes." He snatched the page Tanya handed him and strode out, back on the phone. "With Judge Stallard. It's Gillian and it's urgent."
