Read Cuts Like a Knife: A Novel (A Kristen Conner Mystery Book 1) for Free Online Page B

All I know for sure is that I want to be the one to bring this guy in before he does any more damage. I won’t push his nose in the pavement, though.
    • • •
    I wrap one towel around my body and one around my hair after a thirty-minute shower. Got every last ounce of hot water there was. I’m fading fast now. I want to do my nails—a ten-minute job for me and an afternoon for media star Klarissa—but may not have the energy. I plop on my couch and pick up the remote. I’m debating between watching a TV show I recorded and just hitting the sack. Haven’t done a crossword in a week. My brain’s gonna turn to mashed potatoes.
    I grabbed an oven-roasted turkey sandwich at Subway on my way home and then did a workout in my living room on a foam mat to blow off steam. I started with eagle jumps, but they make too much noise and I didn’t know if the old guy who lives below me was home or not—he has complained about me to management regularly since I moved here—so I only did one set of thirty. I shadowboxed with weighted gloves for ten minutes, keeping my fists at chin level the whole time—my arms were on fire the last two minutes. Then I did a core workout that had my abs screaming.
    I look at the top of my left wrist. A thin line, dark rust down the middle and a few angry dots—from where the stitches got pulled—flank it on both sides. The doc said it will be almost impossible to see. My orthopod said the same thing about my right knee, which has a very noticeable road map of scars.
    I look at my cell phone. No new messages. Dell still hasn’t called back. I left him a pretty detailed explanation, leaving out crime scene details, of course, but I suspect he has had his fill of my explanations and is throwing some passive-aggressive payback in my direction.
    Good for him.
    Sometimes, no matter how long of a shower you take, you just can’t feel clean. I toss the remote on my couch and head to the bedroom. I pick up a Lee Child novel I got at the library. I only make it through ten pages before my eyes get too heavy to continue. I turn off the light and pray, but sleep and prayer elude me.
    He’s back keeps echoing over and over in my mind.

9
    The ChiTownVlogger
    April 2, 6:03 a.m.
    HE CLICKED REPLAY one more time before posting the video on his YouTube channel. From there it would travel seamlessly to his vlog site and over to more than a hundred thousand RSS feeds plus another couple hundred thousand direct subscribers.
    Axl Rose screeched out the words “Welcome to the jungle” as the title DEATH IN THE CITY: NEW IN A THEATER NEAR YOU! rolled on the screen.
    He was well-known in Chicagoland, having been news anchor at the city’s largest local TV station until he was fired. No reason was publically given, but a publicist for the station hinted that there had been “professional conduct issues.” There were rumors of a sexual harassment suit being settled quietly for big bucks. He would admit he drank a little too much in public—and maybe in private—but he knew he had never harassed a woman. Leave that for presidents and senators. He knew very well the real reason for his dismissal. He had packed on an extra thirty pounds. That coupled with a receding hairline, and long story short, he wasn’t as handsome as he used to be.
    No matter. It turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to him. Now he had his own news show—a couple of two- or three-minute reports most days—and he could say whatever he wanted. With a million hits every twenty-four hours, he was making more money off of Google advertising dollars and a few small sponsors—well, the city’s largest Harley dealer wasn’t that small—than he did when he was with the mainstream media.
    Go figure.
    He watched himself carefully. He had leaned back in his battered office swivel chair, and looked right into the miniature digital camera he had set up on a tripod. He could have wetted down his white hair and run a comb through it,