Deliver Us from Evil by Robin Caroll Read Free Book Online Page B

jeans, and let out a hiss of air. Finally. It was done. “Then we’re all good.” But Roark wasn’t so sure. He clicked off the flashlight, then snapped it back into its holder.
    â€œLook guys, the Great Smoky Mountains National Park,” the pilot announced, as if this were a guided tour.
    Although he’d seen the park many times, hiked and camped there even, Roark still stared out the window. Beneath the helicopter’s running lights, the peaks and valleys protruded, but the snow and shadows limited any details. “Did we miss the line of the storm?”
    â€œI think so. It’s still pretty bad, but at least the wind currents are less intense now.”
    The helicopter evened out. Although the wind continued to batter the sides, the current seemed to have stopped fluctuating so rapidly. Roark sat back, shoving aside the formidable warning in his head.
    They’d just entered a false sense of security.
    Friday, 7:45 p.m.
    Congressman McGovern’s Office
    Knoxville, Tennessee
    â€œI’M A UNITED STATES congressman, for pity’s sake. I don’t ride in taxies. Get me a car to take me to the hospital,” Warren barked into the phone. What kind of runaround did these imbeciles think he’d accept? His father would turn over in his grave if Warren dared to allow himself to be treated as ordinary.
    â€œSir, I understand your situation, but we have a blizzard, and it’s late. No car is available right now. I can call you a taxi.”
    Warren needed to get to the hospital, and fast. He sucked in air, held it until his lungs screamed, then let it whoosh out. “Just find me a car—and not a taxi.”
    â€œI’ll see what I can do, sir.”
    â€œDo it quickly.” Warren slammed down the phone and gazed around his office. The dark paneling and soft track lighting did nothing to soothe his irritation.
    A knock rapped against the door.
    â€œCome in.”
    Kevin scuttled in, carrying a folder that he set on Warren’s desk. “Here are the papers Mr. Markinson had, sir.”
    Warren raised an eyebrow. “Does he know you got these?”
    Kevin smiled. “I was able to copy and return them without his realizing I had them.”
    â€œAnd no one saw you?”
    Kevin’s head shook like a washing machine on spin cycle. “Oh no, sir. No one.”
    â€œGood job. Good job.” At least he’d get an idea of what Markinson wanted kept secret. Warren flipped open the file and scanned the first page. His blood pressure spiked as he skimmed the documents.
    â€œIs there anything else, sir?”
    Warren looked up at his young aide. So naive and guileless, trusting and earnest. Nothing more than a mouse of a man, really. Warren’s father would have hated him. “Yes. Find me a limo to take me to the hospital, pronto.”
    â€œYes, sir.” Kevin rushed from the room, all but bowing before he left.
    Warren smiled. Rule number four—always instill a reverential fear in your subordinates. You’ll never know when their eagerness to please you will come in handy.
    He returned to the file—meticulously documented accounting records, down to the last detail. The deposits of cash, the transfers from one corporation’s account to another to yet another, and the wires to offshore accounts—nine of them. Warren shook his head. None of it made a lick of sense to a layman, but if Jonathan Wilks got his heart transplant and came out of the coma, he’d roll over and bust this ring wide open.
    Data on Wilks reflected he’d been married for twenty-five years to the same woman: Carmen. While Wilks didn’t have a child of his own, the wife had a son when the couple married. This stepson hadn’t been to the Wilks’s home in several months. The stepson had reported his mother’s death, requested an autopsy, received said copy, then dropped off the radar. No additional information was provided.