Perry's Killer Playlist by Joe Schreiber

Author:Joe Schreiber [Schreiber, Joe]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Romance, Young Adult, Adventure, Mystery, Humour, Thriller, cookie429, Kat, Extratorrents
ISBN: 9780547927763
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 2012-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

At the far end of the main street, past all the other inns and shops, the taxi pulled up in front of a small wooden storefront that seemed to be built directly into the side of the mountain itself. The shop window was full of dusty wine bottles. The hand-carved sign above the low arched door read VINOTHEKE—WEINE—SPIRITUOSEN.

“Looks like a liquor store,” I said. With its low, cavelike entrance and folksy décor, it looked like where Bilbo Baggins might drop by for a bottle of eiswein. “Are you sure this is it?”

The driver grunted and pointed above it, to an even smaller row of windows above the wine and spirits shop. A tiny hand-carved shingle no bigger than a license plate was creaking back and forth in the breeze: SCHOENEWEISS.

I looked at the darkened front door. “Where do we check in?”

“The Hotel Schoeneweiss never has any guests.”

“Sounds like a great place,” I muttered, and when I opened the back door to help Gobi out of the cab, she slouched over sideways and tumbled forward into my arms. I barely managed to catch her, and when I did, I saw how much worse she’d gotten.

Her half-lidded eyes were glazed and glassy, like she’d forgotten how to blink. Her cracked lips hung slightly parted, and at that point I honestly couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. Her nose and mouth had started to bleed again, not much, but enough to drizzle down over her chin. I knelt down over her and glanced back up at the driver.

“Is there a hospital around here?”

The driver took one glance at Gobi, decided that he’d done his part for the cause, and hit the gas and sped off, leaving us there at the end of the street. The enormity of my bad decision-making—my misplaced trust in others and myself—settled over me like one of those smallpox-infected blankets that the U.S. Cavalry supposedly handed out to the Plains Indians. Why hadn’t I just taken my chances with the Italian police?

Some bleak inner-Perry gave voice to my darkest suspicions: Because they would have arrested you, and she would have died, and your family would never have been found.

The cold reality of it shot through me, a steel instrument tapping a raw nerve. Every second that I hesitated, every moment that I let slip away, meant that my dad and mom and Annie were getting that much closer to—

To death. You know it. That’s exactly the word.

I was trying to decide if I should just start looking around for some kind of emergency clinic somewhere when a cold hand gripped the back of my neck, thumb and forefingers pinching the tendons there, and a sharp bolt of pain shot down both arms just before they went completely numb.

The German voice in my ear was calm, almost a whisper.

“Let me see her.”

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