15 Seconds by Andrew Gross Read Free Book Online Page B

not exactly close friends. I started thinking, What if he’d left, or even worse, notified the police. What if—
    No. I stopped myself. Jesus, Henry, you’re acting crazy . You’ve known the guy since college . You’re just being paranoid, which was kind of easy right now.
    I couldn’t say I liked the idea of sneaking around someone’s house with half the police in Jacksonville searching for me. Someone could just blow me away with a gun—and it would be entirely legal! I stepped into the foyer, trying to recall the layout, feeling a little edgy.
    â€œMike? ”
    I turned right and found myself in the kitchen. Some plates on the counter, recently used. A half-picked-over muffin. A jar of almond butter—which made me smile, remembering Mike was always kind of a health nut.
    Suddenly things began to feel a little odd to me. “Mike, where the hell are you . . . ?”
    I went back through the living room. The family room was just as I’d remembered, with pictures of the kids all over and a large Tarkay watercolor of a Parisian sidewalk café.
    Mike’s office was just down a hallway. He had taken me in there on my one visit and showed off his collection of sports memorabilia, his pride and joy.
    The door was half open. Reflexively I knocked and called out again. “ Mike? You in there, guy . . . ?”
    To my relief, I saw him sitting in a high-backed, leather chair at his desk, glasses raised on his forehead as if he was looking over a report, wearing a red golf shirt—which accounted for why I didn’t see it at first.
    My first reaction was to blow out my cheeks and go, “Jesus, buddy, am I glad to see you . . .”
    Then I stopped.
    He was sitting there, except that he hadn’t moved or made even the slightest sign of recognition. His eyes were wide and glassy and staring through me.
    Two dark blotches were on his chest.
    â€œOh my God , Mike . . . !” My legs grew rubbery and I suddenly felt my stomach lurch up my throat. “Oh, no, no, no, no . . .”
    I ran over. You didn’t need a medical degree to know that he was dead. His pulse was nonexistent; his body temperature was already getting cold.
    â€œOh, Mike, Mike . . .” I said, tears forcing their way into my eyes, and I basically sank, numb and not understanding, into a leather chair.
    I’d known Mike for more than twenty years. Since we were freshmen at Amherst. He was on the golf team. He was one of those glass-half-full kind of guys, who’d give you the shirt off his back. Which was basically what he was doing for me now.
    Or had been about to do.
    I sat there with my head in my hands, looking at him, trying to figure out how this could possibly have happened. My friend was dead! How could anyone have possibly known that I would come here? Or even put the two of us together. How—
    Suddenly it was clear.
    I realized with mounting alarm that two people were now dead. Two people. And that I was the only connection between them!
    I felt the sweats come over me and my insides slowly clawed their way up my throat. Oh my God, Henry . . .
    Someone was targeting me.
    It seemed crazy, impossible. Who ? And why? What could I have done? Just an hour ago I’d been driving into town, thinking that this was going to be one of the best days of my life. Now . . . Now two people were dead. Brutally murdered.
    And I was the only link between them!
    No, no, this was crazy . . . It couldn’t be.
    My thoughts raced wildly. I stared at my friend’s lifeless body while tears of grief and utter disbelief made their way down my cheeks. I realized now that I couldn’t explain myself. Not any longer. I’d be looked at as a suspect here as well. In two murders now. The first maybe I could explain . . . But this one, completely unrelated, my friend, at the place I had chosen to flee to . . . All