Free 1st Case by James Patterson Page A

bitch slap in return. Keats’s open palm literally knocked Angeletti down to his knees.
    “I told you to calm down!” Keats said. “Now just stay there and don’t move.”
    That seemed to be the peak of it all. Angeletti’s shoulders slumped, and his groans had winnowed down to a soft whimper. He didn’t try to get up again.
    Meanwhile, I was standing there witha wad of wet paper towels in my hand, just starting to realize how close I’d come to a real disaster.
Who knew what Angeletti might have done?
I thought—just before it all came up and out of me. Literally. My gut heaved, and I turned back toward the bathroom,
almost
fast enough to get to the toilet. I ended up puking all over Pietro Angeletti’s studio floor instead.
    Sorry, Pietro.
    Not sorry.

CHAPTER 25
    AFTER THAT, ANGELETTI was arrested and taken in without incident. As for Billy, he wouldn’t even talk to me until we were outside on the sidewalk, getting ready to leave. I could tell the ball was in my court.
    “I’m sorry I disappointed you,” I said.
    “You didn’t disappoint me. You pissed me off,” he said. “If this guy’s dirty, you just set any federal prosecution back by a goddamnmile.”
    “I never told him I was FBI,” I said. It was déjà vu, with me grasping at straws all over again. Except this time instead of Mom, or Eve, or the disciplinary board at MIT, I was pleading my case to a federal agent. I’m not sure that counts as coming up in the world, but the comparison wasn’t lost on me.
    “Do you know what could have happened to you?” Keats asked, but then he held up ahand to stop me. “Sorry. Never mind. I know you know, but Jesus, Angela. You’re lucky I showed up when I did.”
    I wanted to say,
Well, kind of.
The truth was, I’d taken careof Angeletti by the time Keats had gotten there, but that didn’t seem worth pointing out just then. Especially considering the fact that I might have made things even worse if Billy hadn’t shown up when he did. Part of mestill wished I’d had the chance to get a look at Angeletti’s phone and hard drive, but mostly I knew it was best that I hadn’t.
    “Why were you here, anyway?” I asked.
    “Angeletti’s name came up with Gwen Petty’s friends, more than once,” he said. “He’s been on my list.”
    “Does that mean he’s a suspect?” I tried, but all it got me was another one of Keats’s tight-lipped glares. Not that I neededa verbal confirmation. Obviously, Angeletti was
some
kind of suspect.
    “Let me have your address,” Billy said. “I’ll follow you home and make sure you get there okay. Unless you’d rather go to your parents’.”
    “My parents?” I said.
    “You’ve just been through a lot. I’m not sure you should be alone tonight,” he said.
    At any other time I would have jumped on that double entendre.
    “I’m fine,” Itold him. “I don’t need anyone to hold my hand. And you don’t have to follow me all the way out to Somerville, either. I can make that drive in my sleep.”
    “I wasn’t asking,” he said, and gestured at my dirty Subaru with the bike still in the back.
    So I made like a good little intern, didn’t push it any further, and drove home with Keats riding my ass the whole way. He even waited in his carat the curb outside my building until I’d found a parking space and walked back over.
    “You sure you’re okay?” he asked from his car. “I can give you the number of someone to talk to, if you want.”
    “I appreciate it, Billy. I really do,” I said. “But I’m just going to open a bottle of wine and Netflix it until Monday morning. Go worry about someone else, okay?”
    He gave me one more skeptical lookafter that, and finally drove off without another word.
    As soon as he was gone, I ran upstairs. Then I took off every stitch of clothing I’d been wearing that day and threw it right in the trash. Then I took the world’s longest shower, packed a bag, and headed back out again. Straight to my