Free 4th of July by James Patterson, Maxine Paetro Page A

son?” the doctor asked, looking both startled and annoyed.
    “It’s my friend. Something’s happened. I don’t know if it’s a seizure or a heart attack or what!”
    “Where is he?”
    “Over there,” he said, pointing to the panel van fifty feet away. “Hurry, okay? Please?”
    The Watcher jogged ahead, looking back to make sure that the doctor was following. When he reached the van, he wrenched open the passenger-side door, stepping aside so the doctor could see the Seeker slumped across the front seat.
    The doctor peered into the interior, reached in, and lifted one of the Seeker’s eyelids. He jerked in surprise as he felt the sharp point of a blade piercing the nape of his neck.
    “Get in,” said the Watcher.
    “Don’t say a word,” said the Seeker, charming, disarming, unflappable, “or we’ll kill your whole family.”

Womans Murder Club 4 - 4th of July

Chapter 41
    THE WATCHER HEARD THE doctor’s bound body bump and roll in the back of the van as they climbed the steep road.
    “What about here?” he asked the Seeker. He checked the rearview mirror, then turned off the roadside into a niche between clumps of trees. He applied the brakes.
    The Seeker leaped out of the van, hauled back on the sliding door, and propped the doctor into a sitting position.
    “Okay, Doc, time to go,” he said, ripping the duct tape from his mouth. “Any last words? Or forever hold your peas.”
    “What do you want me to say?” Dr. O’Malley gasped. “Just tell me. Do you want money? I can get money for you. Drugs? Anything you want.”
    “That’s really stupid, Doc,” said the Seeker. “Even for you.”
    “Don’t do this. Help me,” he pleaded. “Help me, please.”
    “Help me, please,” mocked the Watcher.
    “What did I do to you?” Dr. O’Malley sobbed.
    A rough shove sent the doctor out of the van and into the grit on the side of the road.
    “It’s easier than you think,” the Seeker said kindly, leaning close to the doctor’s ear. “Just fill your mind with things you love . . . and say good-bye.”
    The doctor never saw the rock that caved in the back of his skull.
    The Seeker opened his knife and lifted the doctor’s head by a handful of salt-and-pepper hair. As neatly as if he were slicing a melon, he slit the man’s throat.
    Then the Watcher used his belt as a lash, striking hard, leaving brownish stripes on the bright white skin of O’Malley’s buttocks.
    “Feel that?” he said, panting over the dying man.
    The Seeker wiped his prints off the knife using the doctor’s shirttail. Then he hurled the knife and the rock far down the hillside, where they were swallowed by trees, brush, and tall rasping grasses.
    Together the two men lifted the doctor’s body by his arms and legs and carried him to the cliffside edge of the road. They swung the limp body and on the count of three launched it over the side. They listened as the body crashed into the underbrush, tumbling downhill to a place so remote it would lie hidden, they hoped, until coyotes dragged off the worthless carcass.

Womans Murder Club 4 - 4th of July

Chapter 42
    I WAS ON THE front porch picking out notes on my Seagull when a god-awful clanking mangled my concentration. It was a tow truck, of all things, rattling along the peaceful curves of Sea View Avenue. I scowled until I noticed that it was towing a 1981 Bonneville.
    My 1981 Bonneville.
    The driver waved when he saw me.
    “Hey, lady. I’ve got a special delivery for you.”
    Ah. The man in the moon. The gas station guy. I grinned as Keith worked the gears that let the car down. When it was on all fours, he got out of the cab and came toward me with a little swagger in his walk.
    “So what makes you think you can make this jalopy go?” he asked, taking a seat on the step.
    “I’ve tinkered around with a few engines,” I told him. “Patrol cars, mostly.”
    “You’re a mechanic?” He whistled through his teeth. “Holy shit. I knew there was something neat