Edge by Jeffery Deaver Read Free Book Online Page B

there. I’m getting—”
    She turned the corner and stopped quickly, glancing at me with narrowed brown eyes. I recognized her face immediately from the photos duBois had uploaded to me. Joanne Kessler. In runningshoes, jeans and a dark zippered sweater sprouting a few snags, Joanne had a handsome, though not pretty or exotic, face. She got outside a lot, sun wrinkles and tan, gardening, I guessed, from the short nails, two of which were broken. She didn’t seem athletic, although unlike her husband she was slim. The hair was dark blond, frizzy and long, pulled into a ponytail. She wore glasses, which were stylish, but the lenses were thick, a reminder of her prior career. If anybody looked like a statistician for the Department of Transportation, it was Joanne Kessler.
    Her face had registered a moment of shock seeing me—apparently she hadn’t heard me arrive—and then went completely blank. Not stony or cold in anger. She was numb—a bookish woman, I guessed, who’d been thrown by these events.
    â€œThis is Agent Corte. He works with the Justice Department. He’s a bodyguard.”
    I didn’t correct Ryan about my title or employer. I shook her limp hand and offered a momentary smile. Her eyes remained uninvolved.
    â€œMrs. Kessler—”
    â€œJoanne.”
    â€œYou’re familiar with the situation?”
    â€œRy told me there’s been some mixup. Somebody thought he was being threatened.”
    I glanced at Ryan, who tipped his head in response.
    I kept a calm visage and said to Joanne, “There may be a mixup, yes, but the fact is that there’s no doubt a man has been hired to get information from your husband.”
    Her face deflated. She whispered, “You think we really might be in danger?”
    â€œYes.” I explained about lifters and Henry Loving. “A freelance interrogator,” I summarized.
    â€œBut you don’t mean he tortures people or anything like that, do you?” Joanne asked softly, her eyes eerily emotionless as she stared at her husband.
    I said, “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

Chapter 4
    â€œ SOME LIFTERS BRIBE , some threaten, some blackmail with embarrassing information,” I explained. “But the man who’s after Ryan, yes, specializes in physical extraction.”
    â€œâ€˜Physical extraction,’” Joanne muttered. “‘Specializes.’ You make it sound like he’s a lawyer or doctor.”
    I said nothing. In this line you look for anything to help you do your job. It’s like the games I play—board games exclusively. I like to see my opponent. I learn a lot, noting body language, verbal language, eye contact, clothing. Even breathing patterns. I had to convince the Kesslers that they needed me. I made a decision based on what I’d learned just now. I spoke to them both, though directed most of my attention to the wife.
    I said evenly, “Loving’s low-tech. Usually he uses sandpaper and alcohol on sensitive parts of the body. Doesn’t sound too bad but it works real well.”
    I tried not to picture the crime scene photos of the body of my mentor, Abe Fallow. I wasn’t very successful.
    â€œOh, God,” Joanne whispered and lifted her hand to her narrow lips.
    â€œA lifter’s basic technique is ‘getting an edge,’ asin getting the advantage over you. In one job where I was protecting someone from him, Loving was going to break in and torture a child right in front of the father he wanted information from.”
    â€œNo,” Joanne gasped. “But . . . Amanda. We have a daughter. This is . . .” Her eyes swung from one part of the room to another, then settled on the sink and the dirty dishes. Almost urgently, she stepped forward, grabbed a pair of yellow kitchen gloves, pulled them on and twisted the hot water faucet open wide. This happened a lot, principals focusing