Seconds Away by Harlan Coben Read Free Book Online

Rachel?” Spoon asked.
    “Yes,” I said.
    He grinned. “You can call me Dr. Spoon. You know, to keep us in character.” He glanced left and then right. “Where’s Ema?”
    I’d been wondering the same thing. I scanned the corridor in search of her. Nope. I had sent her a text to meet up here so we could all take the bus together, but she hadn’t replied.
    “I don’t know,” I said.
    “So it’s just you and me?”
    “I guess. Wait, I thought you were grounded.”
    “Yes, but today I have a meeting of the MILF club.”
    I stopped. “Uh, excuse me?”
    “Musicals I Love Foundation. I don’t like to brag, but I’m founder and president of the club.”
    Oh boy. “You might want to change the name.”
    “Why?”
    “Forget it.”
    He rubbed his chin. “I guess I can raise it at the next meeting.”
    “How many other members are there?” I asked.
    Spoon looked confused. “There’s supposed to be other members?”
    I closed my locker.
    “You want to join?” Spoon asked. “You can run for vice president. I love musicals, don’t you? Next week, Dad’s taking the whole club to see the new Frank Wildhorn musical. Do you know who he is?
Jekyll and Hyde
?
The Scarlet Pimpernel
? I love the song ‘This Is the Moment,’ don’t you?”
    He actually started singing it.
    “Yeah,” I said, so he’d stop. “I love it.”
    I quickly sent Ema another text— PLEASE COME WITH US.
    No response.
    I took another look down the corridor and sighed. “I guess it’s just you and me.”
    “Shrek and Donkey!” Spoon shouted.
    “Uh, yeah.”
    “Better yet”—Spoon snapped his fingers—“Don Quixote and Sancho Panza! Do you know who they are? Forget the book, I’m talking about the musical.
Man of La Mancha
? You’re the brave Don Quixote and I’m his squire sidekick, Sancho. By the way, the play won the Tony for Best Musical in 1966, but you probably knew that, right?”
    I didn’t know about the Tony Award in 1966—who did?—but weirdly enough, I did know the musical and the story. For once, a Spoon analogy made perfect sense: Don Quixote had been delusional and, well, insane.
    I took one more look down the hall for Ema. Nothing.
    “Come on,” I said.
    Dr. Spoon and I walked toward the bus stop at Northfield Avenue. When we made the turn, I almost cried out in relief. There, waiting at the stop with an impatient frown, was Ema.
    I ran up to her and gave her a hug. “Ema!” She seemed surprised by the hug. Then again, so was I.
    “You came!” I said.
    “Of course I came. If you two do this yourself, you’ll just mess it up.”
    Spoon came over and became the third guy in the hug. When we all let go, Ema looked at Spoon’s outfit, then looked at me. I just shrugged.
    Spoon spread his arms. “You like it? Sexy, right? Like that TV character.”
    “Dr. McNightmare,” Ema said.
    While we rode the bus, I filled Ema and Spoon in on my meeting with Shaved Head in the black car. They listened in silence. When we got to Saint Barnabas Medical Center, we tried the direct route: just walk in. That, not surprisingly, did not work. There was a front desk that demanded both a picture ID and a reason for being there, several security guards, and even a metal detector.
    Ema frowned. “Who wants to sneak into a hospital anyway?”
    “People steal medical supplies,” Spoon said. “They try to steal computers or medications or records—”
    “I was asking a rhetorical question, Spoon.”
    “Oh.”
    She looked at him again. “Wait, is that a stethoscope around your neck?”
    “Why, yes,” Spoon said, rather pleased with himself. “Part of my disguise.”
    “Where did you get . . . ?” Ema looked over at me. I just shook my head as if to say,
It’s not worth it.
She stopped.
    “So now what?” I asked.
    Spoon said, “Follow me.”
    So we did. We walked back outside and around the back. There was a big metal door that only opened from the inside. Spoon knocked on it three times, stopped, knocked