Pyramid Deception by Austin S. Camacho Read Free Book Online

your friend?”
    Three bedrooms shared the second level. One was an antiseptic guest room. Jason used the other as office. Hannibal sat at the desk, facing the computer with a futon behind him that could be folded down into a bed. A pair of prescription glasses lay in front of the keyboard. Stacks of paper stood on either side of the computer, and a chaos of paper covered the futon behind him like a deck of oversized cards that had been fanned out in preparation for a magic trick. This was the kind of disorder a man created while working, not the random mess that would result from someone searching through the documents.
    â€œOf course I want to know where he is,” Cindy said, trailing Hannibal to the master bedroom. “But I know you usually try to avoid work the police would do. Especially if there’s no pay involved.”
    â€œThey won’t look for Irene Monroe,” He said while exploring Jason’s dresser. One pair of cuff links were missing, several other sets remained. No robbery, then.
    â€œWell, she’s not a client either.”
    She followed him into the walk-in closet. There was a place for everything, leaving obvious holes for missing items. Hannibal closed his eyes, resisting the urge to fill the silence, but ultimately losing.
    â€œDamn it, Cindy, the woman was killed right in front of me. She trusted me, and now she’s dead. I can’t just let that lie. And your boy may be running from whoever did it. Look here. There’s a couple of suits missing here, two pair of shoes and looks like three ties. Looks like Jason was packing for a short trip.”
    â€œI can’t believe that,” Cindy said as they moved to the bathroom. “He’d never take off, not without telling Mr. Baylor. Not without telling me.”
    â€œWell so far it looks like Jason does quite a bit without telling you,” Hannibal said, poking through drawers and the medicine cabinet. “I’m not seeing a toothbrush. No comb. No cologne or deodorant. When the police stop by they’ll think the same thing. He packed quick and hit the road.”
    â€œThat doesn’t prove anything.”
    â€œCindy, maybe you don’t get it, but if Jason is in hiding that’s good news.” Then he stopped talking. He slowly lifted a small plastic container out of a drawer. The little figure-eight-shaped tray was the kind people put contact lenses in to soak. He blinked at himself in the wall length mirror over the double sinks and his mouth set in a grim line.
    â€œDid Jason wear glasses?”
    â€œWell, contacts,” Cindy said.
    â€œNo, I mean regular glasses with frames.”
    â€œNever,” Cindy said. “The only time I saw him in real glasses was that time last year when he lost one of his contacts. I told him he should have two pair but his prescription is weird I guess so the lenses are expensive so he only had one pair. Why? Is that important?”
    Hannibal opened the little container. Two lenses floated there in a few drops of solution. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œJason would have put them there at night and put them in his eyes in the morning. A regular routine every day. He’d never have left the house without them. And I saw his glasses in the office so he’s not wearing them.”
    â€œSee, he didn’t run off,” Cindy said, but the note of triumph in her voice faded quickly. “So where is he?”
    Hannibal put the lenses back where he found them and headed down the stairs. “Gone. They took him last night.”

-7-
    â€œThey?” Cindy asked. “What they?”
    â€œWhoever hit Irene Monroe,” Hannibal said. He walked through the sliding glass door into Jason’s postage stamp back yard. A few steps later he opened the gate and stepped out into the alley behind the house. Even in the middle of the afternoon it was quiet. Trees overhung the alley from the