Phantom Limb by Dennis Palumbo Read Free Book Online Page A

man.”
    â€œI don’t know too many people who’d agree with you.”
    He gave a wry laugh. “Probably not. Anyway, I wondered if you’d ever met him. Dowd, I mean. The Handyman.”
    I shook my head. “No. No interest.”
    â€œDo you know what ever happened to that other victim who escaped? The twelve-year-old boy?”
    â€œWell, he’d be almost twenty by now. And his name was never released to the press. I can only hope he’s okay.”
    â€œYes. Of course.” Another pause. “Though, as someone once said, ‘It’s not the despair that kills you, it’s the hope.’”
    A pained, almost grief-stricken look crossed his face. Shadowed his eyes. Then, just as abruptly, vanished.
    At the same time, a voice crackled from the speaker overhead. Trevor, the driver.
    â€œWe’re at the gate, Mr. Drake. I’ll take us in.”

Chapter Six
    Painted with a coat of lunar light, the grounds surrounding Charles Harland’s immense home had a well-maintained, European grandeur. Rows of perfectly trimmed hedges. Tasteful stone fountains. Oval ponds whose waters rippled in the blustery night. Nature brought to heel by armies of landscape engineers, gardeners, and groundskeepers. And, of course, money.
    I’d read somewhere that the residence itself was originally built by some wealthy land developer in the nineteenth century, and its opulence was apparent as we rolled up the circular drive to the front entrance. Evenly spaced lawn lights outlined the mansion’s gabled turrets and elegant carved cornices.
    Somehow our driver Trevor managed to slip out from behind the wheel and open the rear passenger door before I could. Tall, black, and indifferent in his chauffer’s uniform, he didn’t meet my eye as I climbed out into a cool, steady night wind.
    Arthur Drake had already gotten out on his side and, as I went around to join him, I saw another man coming toward us from the white-columned front porch. Face grim as he approached.
    He was shorter than I, with trimmed, salt-and-pepper hair. Well-muscled under his nondescript jacket and tie. A two-way radio clipped to his belt.
    Drake began the introductions.
    â€œDr. Rinaldi, this is Mike Payton, our—”
    That’s as far as he got before Payton, with one smooth, easy motion, grabbed my elbow and spun me around. Slamming me gut-first against the trunk of the car.
    â€œHey, what the—?!”
    The impact pushed the air out of my lungs. At the same time, I felt thin plastic restraints pulled tightly around my wrists behind my back.
    â€œMike!” Drake shouted. “What are you doing—?”
    Payton’s hands had already begun snaking under my suit jacket. Up and under my armpits.
    â€œYou bother to frisk the son of a bitch, Arthur? Let me take a wild guess—no, you didn’t.”
    â€œBecause I would never have thought it necessary. Moreover, I prefer to leave the Dirty Harry tactics to you.”
    Payton growled. “I’m Mr. Harland’s head of security. And I don’t know this guy. The only thing I know about the Doc here is that he let the boss’ wife get grabbed. So why take chances?”
    He finished running his hands up and down my pants legs and rose to his full height, pushing his jaw next to my face.
    â€œI’m right, aren’t I, pal? Lisa got herself kidnapped on your watch…?”
    â€œWhy don’t you untie my wrists and we can discuss it.”
    A dark laugh. “Right. Listen, Doc, you don’t want to give me an excuse to kick your ass.”
    Drake spoke up again. “Mike, for God’s sake, stop this! Release Dr. Rinaldi at once. Mr. Harland is anxious to meet with him.”
    By now, enough breath had returned to my body to fuel a rising anger. The rough treatment I’d received had started my head wound throbbing again. During the long drive here, it had thankfully quieted to a dull