Capturing Fate (Fatal Truth #2) - Abbie Roads Page 0,1

searching for a better view. I think you found your leak.

“Yep.” Dolan kept his gaze locked on the men.

Ever since Adam Killion’s arrest eighteen years ago, his disciples had started clubs and organizations all over the world in his name. They were drawn to his good looks, his charisma, and most of all his lack of conscience. To those groups, the absence of a conscience was considered the ultimate survival skill, a sign of a superior being that would one day rule the world. Survival of the fittest at its foulest.

The FBI had been monitoring all the groups, but still hundreds of copycat murders had taken place. Too many of the murders were identical to Killion’s, which meant Killion was talking to someone, but no one had figured out how. Until now, when the answer was strolling across the yard in his three-piece suit that looked more fitting for a Wall Street tycoon than a prison doctor. A prison doctor who had unlimited, unmonitored, access to Adam Killion.

“Gotcha,” Dolan whispered to the psychiatrist. He reached for his contraband cell phone to call his supervisor, SSA Coleman, but then he realized the men were heading straight toward the staff gate at the back of the prison, which led to the creepy old administration building. A building that no inmate should ever enter. It wasn’t part of the prison. It wasn’t secure.

The admin building might look like a horror show reject, but they used it solely for all the organizational duties that were more easily conducted outside a maximum-security facility.

“There’s no way they can take him outside the prison. There should be more than one CO. There should be a convoy. There should’ve been days of planning, practice and preparation.”

This is bad. Terrible. Snake slid in half circles around Dolan’s neck.

Dolan grabbed his radio and hit the call button. Nothing happened. No beep. No static. He pressed it again. Nothing. After he banged it against his leg, he tried again, but the thing was deader than a corpse when it should’ve been charged. His shoulders tensed and his hands on the rifle began to sweat.

He picked up the receiver to the ancient, corded phone hanging on the wall and punched in the prison’s lockdown code. Nothing.

He punched the panic device on his belt. Nothing.

He lay down on the floor. All the COs wore the panic device because it was supposed to trigger if a guard went down. But as he lay there waiting to hear the sirens, he knew nothing was going to happen.

Without getting up, he pulled his cell out of his pocket and tapped the screen. But the device froze and wouldn’t open no matter how many times he jammed his thumb against the fingerprint reader. “Piece of shit.”

He jumped to his feet and beat the glass of the tower with his fist, hoping to get someone’s attention.

“Stop him! Don’t let him out!” He yelled the words so loud, his voice cracked and his throat stung. No one down there heard him.

The men walked up to the staff gate as if it were normal for one of the world’s most dangerous serial killers to be only a few feet from freedom. “Why haven’t the COs down there started the lockdown protocol? Why aren’t the sirens blaring?”

They’re in on it. Snake’s scales gripped onto Dolan’s skin so tight it was almost painful.

The first set of gates shuddered and rolled open.

“No.” A blade of fear speared Dolan’s chest. Not for himself. No. He was terrified of the guilt he’d feel when Killion started killing again. That would be his fault. That he—an undercover FBI agent—stood there watching with his thumb jammed up his ass as Adam Killion strolled out of prison. Un-fucking-forgivable.

Dolan ran toward the tower stairs. He didn’t remember going down the flights, he was just suddenly at the bottom, bursting out onto the grounds, sprinting with his rifle to the staff gate.

When he got within hearing range, he started shouting, “Open the gate! Open the goddamned gate!” The COs stared at him like he’d grown a nipple in the middle of his forehead. They didn’t move.

Dolan ran up. “Open the goddamned gates. Now! You just let Adam Killion out.”

CO Blanton looked at him and blinked like he was innocent, while CO Havers perfected a look of ignorance. Neither of them moved.

Dolan pulled his rifle up to his shoulder and aimed the weapon at them. “My name isn’t Owen Jenkins. It’s Dolan Watts. I’m undercover FBI.” He rattled off his badge