Thriller 2: Stories You Just Can't Put Down (2009) Anthology by Clive Cussler

Author:Clive Cussler [Cussler, Clive]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: 0778328767
Published: 2010-12-03T22:00:00+00:00

He shifted in bed and, fighting the pain, levered himself up onto his elbows, but she was already gone.

“You look like hell,” Noah Kent said cordially.

“Don’t try to cheer me up.”

It had been less than three hours since Resa had left. Parker had tried and failed to get Dr. Woods to release him from the hospital. Still, Kent was a welcome sight, dressed in pressed slacks, a blazer and shirt and tie, as if he were on his way to court.

“They letting you out of this place?”

“Nah, but I’m going anyway.”

“Not a smart move.”

“One of many,” Parker said, wincing against the pain in his belly.

Kent cut to the chase. “She came to see you, didn’t she? She was here, earlier.”

“Who?”

“Don’t mess with me, okay? Theresa D’Amato was caught on camera in the parking lot. Hospital security has been on alert for her since you checked in.” When Parker didn’t respond, Kent went on. “Okay, two guns, both registered to you were found at the scene. One, the Glock, has your prints on it, the other, a.22, has Theresa’s.”

“I gave it to her years ago, but she wasn’t in the belfry that night,” Parker said.

“Who was?”

He frowned. “I-I’m not sure.”

“Think real hard.”

He’d been picturing that face all morning. He could see the shooter turning to him, a face so like Resa’s, but so different. “It’s a little blurry.”

Kent eyed him critically. “No more bullshit, Parker. I know you lied when the kid died. And I know you’re lying now. So stop yanking my chain and give it to me straight. Was Theresa D’Amato in the bell tower?”

“Not in the belfry, no.”

“Then who? Who shot you?”

“I…I think it was someone who was trying to look like her. I only saw the face for an instant and it was dark, but…” He swiped a hand over his forehead, a bead of sweat there. “I think it was Frankie D’Amato.”

“Her cousin.”

Parker knew it sounded nuts. “But he’s in a mental hospital.”

“Not anymore.” Something shifted in the hospital room-the tiniest drop in temperature. In that heartbeat, with his partner hesitating, Parker sensed what was coming and it scared the hell out of him. “I tried to call you about that,” Kent said.

“It was him?” Parker gaped. “Frankie D’Amato.”

Kent leaned forward in his chair. “Frankie D’Amato walked away from the hospital Friday sometime. No one knows exactly how it happened, but they think he slipped into scrubs, then pilfered some poor nurse’s locker. Probably walked out of there decked to the nines.”

Parker felt his entire life beginning to unravel. Frankie D’Amato, Theresa’s cousin, had been institutionalized in a mental facility for five years…ever since Ian’s death.

“And on the day of the escape, what happens? Frankie’s mother, Lorna, is found dead at the base of the stairs, a convenient accident, if you ask me. Then you’re shot in the belfry of the D’Amato Monastery Estates at a gala hosted by Frankie’s uncle. Coincidence?” Kent shook his head, clasped a hand over one knee. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re serious?”

“Dead.

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