Forced Out by Stephen Frey Read Free Book Online Page B

kill me. I told you everything I know. I haven't seen your face."
    "We're not gonna kill you, Mr. Casey," Johnny said in a tough tone, using "we" now because that was always scarier to a victim than "I." "But we'll be watching." He'd get Casey's phone records and check the numbers constantly to make certain he and McLean didn't talk. "And we're gonna keep watching. We find out you talk to Kyle McLean once, just once, and you're a dead man. I mean it, a dead man. You understand me?"
    "I understand, I understand. I swear it."
    Johnny started unfurling the Saran Wrap from around Casey's face, then stopped. Making Casey think his suffering was over, then snatching away the awesome feeling of relief. "There's a few more things I need to know. You give me answers I like, and I take this stuff off. You don't, and, well, you know what happens." 7
    J ACK STEPPED DOWN gingerly from the front seat of Bobby's SUV, thinking about how Biff, the EMT, had pressed him several times at the stadium to sign a form saying he'd called for their assistance. But he hadn't signed it. The whole reason Biff wanted that signature was so he and Harry could charge for their time. One thing Jack had learned over the years was that everybody was constantly trying to slip their fingers in your wallet. That life ultimately came down to one big, sometimes completely corrupt, chaotic grab for the dollar. Which was pretty damn discouraging when you really thought about it.
    "Easy, Daddy," Cheryl urged as they moved up the narrow, cracked path. "Walk slow."
    "I'm fine, Princess."
    "Let's just get you in the house."
    "Yeah, let's do that," he muttered, glancing up at the small ranch house he and Cheryl had lived in the past few years. Might as well call it the "coffin." This was probably where he was going to die. He'd been thinking about dying a lot lately, down to which room he'd collapse in. His bedroom or the living room, most likely, but maybe the kitchen. Maybe he'd keel over while he was fixing a sliced turkey sandwich for lunch one day. He loved sliced turkey sandwiches--though not nearly as much as he loved grilled hot dogs at a baseball game. "Let's get me in the house." He just prayed it wouldn't happen in the bathroom. That would be the worst. Sprawled out stark naked after collapsing in the shower.
    He hated this house, hated the entire neighborhood. The people were nice enough, but it was so damn boring and bland here. A few storm-ravaged palm trees, some scraggly bushes here and there, and a sea of almost identical ranch houses built on brown, burned-out lawns along a perfect grid of ramrod-straight, potholed streets that stretched east-west and north-south as far as you could see. There was no character to it. It wasn't at all like the beautiful neighborhood he'd lived in on Long Island where the houses were big and different. Like the house he'd lived in back when he was with the Yankees. Back when he had some self-respect. But Cheryl's mother had grabbed everything in the divorce--including his self-respect. And this place had been all he and Cheryl could afford. Barely, at that.
    "Don't worry about me, Princess."
    "I always worry about you, Daddy."
    "You want me to stay here tonight?" Bobby called, hustling up behind them. His SUV
    was still idling in the narrow driveway. "In case anything happens, I mean."
    "Nothing's gonna happen," Jack said with a growl, catching Cheryl's eye in the light of the porch lamp. Making it clear he didn't want Bobby sticking around. "I just want to rest. I just want some peace and quiet." He pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door. "Cheryl can take care of me by herself just fine."
    "Can I get anything for you from the store?" Bobby asked her. "Anything at all?"
    "No, sweetheart, but thanks. I'll call you in the morning," she promised. Jack limped inside, hesitating in the foyer so he could hear.
    "Baby, can you come back to my place for a little while?" Bobby asked in a low voice.
    "I won't keep you