Tell No Lies by Gregg Hurwitz Read Free Book Online Page A

tick-tick-ticked. Cris ran a hand through her bangs and squeezed, hair spiking up between her fingers.
    He nodded at her.
    She nodded at him.
    The first flap, insufficiently moistened, popped up easily.
    admit what youv done. or you will bleed for it.
    The paper trembled in his grip as he turned it over.
    you hav til november 20 at midnite
    A breath shuddered out of him. “That’s Wednesday. Day after tomorrow—”
    Cris was gripping the cordless tightly enough that her fingers had gone pale. “So Lyle Kane’s still alive.”
    “And Dooley can get to him.” He grabbed the next envelope and slid a yellow rubber forefinger under the flap, desperate to see if Marisol Vargas was already dead or if she still had a shot.
    The sheet slid out. Same refrain on the front. And the back—
    you hav til november 18 at midnite
    His heart seized.
    Tonight.
    “What?” Cris said. “ What, honey? You’re freaking me out.”
    He turned and looked over his shoulder at the wall clock: 11:54.
    His voice, little more than a dry rasp. “Tonight.”
    “Where…?” Cris bounded around the table to read the envelope without having to touch it. “Where’s she—”
    1737 chestnut st #2
    “Jesus, that’s across from Moscone Park.”
    Four blocks away.
    Six minutes.
    Four blocks.
    The phone shrilled, and Cris yelped and jumped back, dropping it. The battery lid popped off, but the phone kept ringing as it spun over to tap Daniel’s shoes. He snatched it up.
    “Dooley?”
    “I just got back. My guy filled me in. I was in the garage with no—”
    “Midnight tonight he’s killing the next person.” A rush of words, his voice unrecognizable.
    “You opened them? Wait. Midnight. That’s—” Her breath blew sharply across the receiver. “What’s the address?”
    He rattled it off, and she shouted it to someone else.
    Daniel was standing. “How long to get someone there?”
    “We’re too far away—we work out of Hall of Justice, twenty minutes to get there. Nearest station is Northern. I’ll have ’em pull a patrol unit off Western Addition. If they roll now, they could get there in fifteen, maybe ten if they code-three it.”
    “I can get there in five.”
    “Brasher?” Dooley’s voice now cool and hard. “Stay put.”
    He was moving, taking giant strides across the room.
    Cris was behind him, twisting her hands in the hem of the Giants shirt, shifting from bare foot to bare foot, her voice thin with fear: “You sure about this?”
    He whipped past the island, tossed the phone on the counter, turned for the stairs. “No.”
    “You’re not a cop, Daniel.”
    “I know. But a woman’s gonna be attacked in minutes. How do I not at least go down there, knock on her door?”
    “You could run right into the guy.”
    “I’ll stay outside. I’m only gonna warn her, wait in the street with her for the cops. Look—there’s no time to go around and around on this. I’ll be careful.”
    Cris reached across the counter. The butcher knife came free from the magnetic strip with a soft ping. She extended it to him, handle first. Her thin arms trembled.
    “Just in case,” she said.

 
    Chapter 9
    Daniel took the Audi for more muscle, rocketing down the cascade of Webster, the undercarriage scraping and throwing off sparks like flicked cigarettes. The park flew by on the left, a shadowy expanse behind chain-link. The buildings’ letters zoomed at him through the passenger window, and he slid to the curb, fumbling for the knife. From the dashboard the time glowed menacing red—12:03.
    He leapt out, stumbling. Discordant laughter reached him from a late-night congregation on the dark softball fields across the street, but it seemed only to highlight the desolation of the midnight hour. The block, infused with his own dread, seemed postapocalyptic.
    The lawned sidewalk strip housed a row of sycamores with pollarded branches, upthrust stumps like the severed arms of scarecrows. His footsteps jarred his vision as he sprinted