Black Friday by James Patterson Read Free Book Online

consistency of a pulse. He was filled with a terrible, hollow longing.
    He let his eyes gently close and he could
see
her face.
Oh, Nora, sweet Nora. How could you leave me like this? How could you leave me alone, with all these kids, fighting against this crazy, crazy world out there?
    She had been the best person Carroll had ever met. It was as simple, and no more profound, than that. The two of them had made a perfect fit. Nora had been warm, and thoughtful and funny. That they had found each other convinced Carroll such a thing as fate might indeed exist. It wasn’t all randomness and whim and unseeing chance.
    Strange, the ways of life and death.
    Growing up, all through high school in New York, at College (South Bend, Notre Dame), Carroll had been secretly afraid he’d never find anybody to love him. It was a curious fear, and sometimes he’d imagine that just as some people were born with a talent for art or music, he’d been given a gift of solitude.
    Then Nora found him and that was absolute magic.
She’d discovered Carroll the second day of law school at Michigan State. Right away, from their very first date, Carroll simply
knew
he could never love anybody else; that he would never need to. He’d never been more comfortable around another person in his life.
    Only now Nora was gone. Nearly three years back in the cancer ward of New York Hospital.
Merry Christmas, Carroll family. Your friend, God…
    “I’m just a kid, Arch,” Nora had whispered to him once, after she found out she was dying for certain. She’d been thirty-one then, a year younger than he.
    Carroll slowly sipped his can of watery beer. An old country song played through his head…
“the beer that made Milwaukee famous, made a loser out of me.”
Ever since she’d died, he understood he’d been trying to commit slow, sure suicide. He’d been drinking too much; eating most of the wrong things; taking stupid chances on the job…
    It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand the problem, because he did. He just couldn’t seem to do a damn thing to stop his steep downhill slide. He was like some daredevil skier determined to destroy himself on the most treacherous, glacial slopes. He didn’t seem to care enough anymore…
    Arch Carroll, supposed tough-guy, well-quoted cynic around town—there he sat in the tub with one of his kids’ rubber toys floating next to him. All four of the kids delighted and astonished Carroll. So why was he screwing up so badly lately?
    He was tempted to wake them up now. Maybe go sledding at midnight on the back lawn. Play catch with Mickey Kevin. Teach Lizzie how to do a pliÉ and become a hot-shit little ballerina.
    Arch Carroll’s ears suddenly tuned in sharply….
Something
odd….
What was it?
    In another part of the house, he heard voices.
    Then, a door slammed.
    There were steps in the hallway. The floorboards creaked loudly.
    The kids were up!
Exactly what he needed, Carroll thought, and he began to smile broadly.
    There was a light tap on the bathroom door.
    That had to be Lizzie or Mickey trying to be cute. Soon to be followed by Dolby stereo kid screams and uncontrollable belly laughs.
    “Entrez,
Come right in you little assholes,” he called.
    The bathroom door opened slowly, and Carroll cupped his hands, ready to splash a tidal wave of water.
    He managed to control his impulse just in time.
    The man framed in the bathroom door was wearing a black London Fog raincoat, wire-rimmed eyeglasses, a white button down shirt and striped rep tie. Carroll had never seen him before. “Er. Excuse me, sir,” the man said.
    “Uh? Can I help you with anything?” Carroll asked.
    The intruder looked like a banker, maybe an account executive at a brokerage firm. Carroll started to turn bright red. The blush immediately swept up to his forehead. He couldn’t think of anything smart or funny to say, especially when he was still holding a rubber duck in his hand.
    The man in the doorway spoke with Ivy League