Fool Me Once by Harlan Coben Read Free Book Online Page A

by any stretch, but this kind of wealth didn’t sit well with her. Maya didn’t feel comfortable here, hadn’t ever, but that was the way the Burketts were. No one really left the family’s environs—their compound just spread out.
    She worked up a good sweat. Exercising always made her feel better. When she was done, Maya threw a towel around her neck and grabbed a frosty Bud. She pressed the bottle against her forehead. Nice and cold.
    She moved the mouse, waking up the computer, and jumped on the web. She typed in the URL for the CoreyTheWhistle website and waited for it to load. Other similar sites like WikiLeaks had no-nonsense layouts—very cookie-cutter, monochromatic, informational. Corey had gone for a far more stimulating visual. The motto, written in alternating fonts across the top, was simple and crude: “We Provide The Whistle, But You Provide The, Uh, Blow.”
    There were bursts of color. There were thumbnails of videos. And while rival sites downplayed any hyperbole, Corey’s had brought all the best and cheesiest click-bait terminology: “Top Ten Ways The Government Is Watching—Number 7 Will Blow Your Mind!” “Wall Street Goes For Your Green . . . and You Won’t Believe What Happens Next.” “Think the Cops Are There to Protect You? Think Again.” “We Kill Civilians. Why the Four-Star Generals Hate Us.” “Twenty Signs You’re Being Robbed By Your Bank.” “The Wealthiest Men in the World Pay No Taxes—How You Can Too.” “Which Despot Are You Most Like? Take Our Test.”
    She hit the archive and found the old video. She wasn’t sure why she went to Corey’s site to get it. YouTube had a dozenvariations of it up. She could have easily just gone there, but somehow it felt right to go to the source.
    Someone had leaked to Corey Rudzinski what had started off as a rescue mission. Four soldiers, including three Maya knew and loved, had been killed in an ambush in Al Qa’im, not far from the Syrian-Iraqi border. Two were still alive but pinned down by enemy fire. A black SUV was moving in for the kill. Maya and Shane, flying at full speed in a Boeing MH-6 Little Bird light helicopter gunship, had heard the terrified calls for help from the two surviving soldiers. They both sounded so young, so damned young, and she knew the four already dead would have sounded exactly the same.
    Once they had the target in view, they waited for confirmation, but while everyone thinks military gear is infallible, the radio signal from Joint Operations Command at Al Asad kept coming in and out. Not so with the two soldiers who were begging to be saved. Maya and Shane waited. Both were cursing through the radio, demanding a reply from JOC, when they heard the two survivors scream.
    That was when Maya’s MH-6 took out the black SUV with an AGM-114 Hellfire Missile. The SUV blew up high into the air. The infantry moved in and rescued the soldiers. Both had been hit, but both survived.
    At the time, it had all seemed pretty righteous.
    Maya’s cell phone rang. She closed the web browser quickly, as though she’d been caught watching porn. She saw the caller ID read “FARNWOOD,” the name of the Burkett family estate.
    “Hello?”
    “Maya, it’s Judith.”
    Joe’s mom. It had been more than a week since Joe’s death, but the tone still had that same heaviness, as though every word was a task, a struggle, painful.
    “Oh, hi, Judith.”
    “I wanted to know how you and Lily are faring.”
    “That was thoughtful. We’re as well as can be expected.”
    “I’m glad to hear it,” Judith said. “I’m also calling to remind you that tomorrow Heather Howell will read Joe’s will in Farnwood Library at nine A.M. sharp.”
    The rich even name their rooms.
    “I’ll be there, thank you.”
    “Would you like us to send a car?”
    “No, I’ll be okay.”
    “Why not bring Lily? We would love to see her.”
    “Let’s play that by ear, okay?”
    “Of course. I . . . I really miss seeing her.