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Home > Mystery & Detective > Women Sleuths > Trap Door-eBook
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Trap Door
Chapter One



Over a long, successful career of killing people for money, Walter Henderson had never before snuffed out a personal enemy. He'd made a habit of keeping his private life and his business affairs separate, and planning to break that habit now aroused a variety of new emotions in him, none of them pleasant.

Anxiety, resentment, and the kind of bone-deep reluctance a lazy schoolboy might feel, facing a pile of homework . . . these were not sentiments with which Walter Henderson, a paid assassin, had any significant experience.

Thus as he sat waiting in his comfortable leather armchair for the inevitable to occur, he tried yet again to come up with some other way out of the situation in which he found himself. But he'd been over it all a hundred times in his head already and he'd found none.

Because there weren't any. So now here he was. I'm not even supposed to be doing this anymore, he thought irritably. With one exception–a loose end he meant to tie up very soon–he'd decided that his death-dealing days were history.

But apparently resolutions really were made to be broken, he thought. Then came the sound he'd been waiting to hear: stealthy footsteps on the gravel driveway outside, not far from his open window.

Walter looked up from the book he'd been pretending to read, in the warm pool of light in the den of his large, luxuriously appointed house in Eastport, Maine. It was late. The housekeeper had gone home to her own house, and his teenaged daughter Jen was already in bed.

Or so she'd tried hard to convince him as she'd headed upstairs an hour earlier: clad in pajamas, carrying a glass of milk and a handful of cookies, and yawning elaborately.

Smiling with affection, thinking how pretty she was with her golden tan, strong athlete's body, and sun-bleached blonde hair, Walter had bid his daughter a fond good night. Then he'd built a fire in the enormous granite fireplace that formed one whole wall of the room, piling it with chunks of aged driftwood so it flamed extravagantly before settling to a fierce red glow.

After that, with a scant two fingers of Laphroaig in a chunky cut-crystal lowball glass to keep him company, he'd sat down with his book to wait. Despite the chilly spring evening the fire let him keep the window open, admitting salt air and whiffs of wood smoke along with the distant, varied hoots and moans of the foghorns on the dark water a few hundred yards distant.

Now Walter sat very still, listening to the sound of cautious movement outside, a whispery crunching on stones that someone was trying to minimize.

To no avail. That you couldn't approach the house without traversing an expanse of pea gravel was not an accident, any more than the elaborate alarm system, heat-and-motion detectors, or closed-circuit TV cameras that Walter had installed when he'd had the house built.

All turned off now, of course. Walter didn't want any record, electronic or otherwise, of what transpired here tonight. Just to be sure, he'd had an old buddy of his run up from the city a week earlier to disarm the devices, taking care to make it appear that the central controller circuits had silently malfunctioned.

In the unlikely event that anyone checked. Walter listened a while longer to be certain it wasn't only a wild animal out there, a deer or raccoon or maybe even a moose. There were plenty of t
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Title of ebook: Trap Door
ISBN: 9780553903348
Publisher: Bantam Books
Internet download file size: 1136 kb
Pages: 320
Released online for download: 12-26-2006
Author of eBook: Graves, Sarah

Trap Door


Chapter One



Over a long, successful career of killing people for money, Walter Henderson had never before snuffed out a personal enemy. He'd made a habit of keeping his private life and his business affairs separate, and planning to break that habit now aroused a variety of new emotions in him, none of them pleasant.

Anxiety, resentment, and the kind of bone-deep reluctance a lazy schoolboy might feel, facing a pile of homework . . . these were not sentiments with which Walter Henderson, a paid assassin, had any significant experience.

Thus as he sat waiting in his comfortable leather armchair for the inevitable to occur, he tried yet again to come up with some other way out of the situation in which he found himself. But he'd been over it all a hundred times in his head already and he'd found none.

Because there weren't any. So now here he was. I'm ... read full excerpt from Trap Door ebook


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