Ilona Andrews -White Hot (Hidden Legacy 2).pdf

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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
An Excerpt from Wildfire
Wildfire
About the Author
By Ilona Andrews
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue
A
wise man once said, “A human mind is the place where emotion and reason
are locked in perpetual combat. Sadly for our species, emotion always wins.” I
really liked that quote. It explained why, even though I was reasonably
intelligent, I kept finding myself doing something really stupid. And it sounded
much better than “Nevada Baylor, Total Idiot.”
“Don’t do this,” Augustine said behind me.
I looked at the monitor showing Jeff Caldwell. He sat shackled to a chair that
was bolted to the floor. He wore prison orange. He didn’t seem like much: an
unremarkable man in his fifties, balding, average height, average build,
average face. I read a news article about him this morning. He had a job with
the city; a wife, who was a schoolteacher; and two children, both in college. He
had no magic and wasn’t affiliated with any of the Houses, powerful magic
families that ran Houston. His friends described him as a kind, considerate
man.
In his spare time, Jeff Caldwell kidnapped little girls. He kept them alive for
up to a week at a time, then he strangled them to death and left their remains in
parks surrounded by flowers. His victims were between the ages of five and
seven, and the stories their bodies told made you wish that hell existed just so
Jeff Caldwell could be sent there after he died. The night before last he had
been caught in the act of depositing the tiny corpse of his latest victim in her
flower grave and was apprehended. The reign of terror that had gripped
Houston for the past year was finally over.
There was just one problem. Seven-year-old Amy Madrid was still missing.
She had been kidnapped two days ago from her school bus stop, less than
twenty-five yards from her house. The MO was too similar to Jeff Caldwell’s

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