The Betrayal by Jerry B. Jenkins Read Free Book Online

him I’m on the front page of the Trib again this morning and that I need him.”
    â€œSir, I—”
    â€œI’ll take the blame, admit I made a nuisance of myself, whatever you need. And if he still won’t speak to me, I’ll surrender.”
    â€œHold, please.”
    The next voice was Zappolo’s. In typical fashion, he dived in with no preliminaries. “You don’t need a lawyer, Drake. You need an agent. You could parlay all this publicity into a comfortable living. Reality show, you name it.”
    â€œGood to talk to you too, Fritz.”
    â€œYou’re usually looking sideways at me because I’m representing somebody you thought you had dead to rights. And now you need me?”
    â€œI’m calling for a friend.”
    â€œNo doubt one who can’t afford me.”
    â€œOf course. She’s in—”
    â€œDon’t tell me anything over the phone, Boone, please. Can you get to my office within the hour?”
    â€œI’m sure your palatial suites will be easy to find, but I wasn’t kidding about . . . you know . . . the matter of—”
    â€œC’mon, you know I don’t need the money anymore. But I can always use the press. Just tell me this is related to why you’re all over the news.”
    â€œIt is.”
    â€œGet here as soon as you can.”
    Boone had to force himself to relax and stay with the plan. He wanted to rush out to his car right then, but he would have his lunch first, then stroll out with the uniforms. Problem was—little shock—lunch was late. And cold. And institutional. For some reason the hospital had deigned to treat its constituents to a turkey dinner, with, as the folded paper menu bragged, “all the fixin’s.”
    Two thin slices of dry turkey breast had been laid across a scoop of sticky instant mashed potatoes, accompanied by those fixin’s: a clump of dressing from a box and a jiggling hockey puck of cranberry surprise next to what appeared to be a sample slice of pumpkin pie.
    â€œGetting out today?” the candy striper delivery girl said, eyeing Boone in street clothes. “Lucky you.”
    â€œWhat’s this?” he said. “Thanksgiving leftovers?”
    â€œSir, Thanksgiving was more than two months ago.”
    â€œReally? Where’ve I been?”
    â€œEnjoy!”
    Boone gulped a couple of bites of each offering, thinking fuel rather than enjoyment, then gathered his stuff and invited the two officers in. “I’m taking off, but I don’t want to get you guys in trouble.” He snapped off his wristband and handed it to Ferguson. “Once you’ve seen me to my car, check me out at the main desk. Then you’re free to get back to headquarters.”
    â€œOh, sure. And if something happens to you before you get home?”
    â€œYour assignment was to protect me here, right? Well, I won’t be here long.”
    â€œSorry, bro, but if you’re leaving our jurisdiction, I gotta call it in. You know that.”
    Boone pressed his lips together and shook his head. He’d been in uniform. He couldn’t argue. “Do what you’ve got to do, Fergie, but walk me out.”
    1:00 p.m .
    As the three started down the hall, Ferguson began radioing in that their charge was about to leave.
    â€œCould you do that by phone? I don’t need everybody in the place knowing my business.”
    The cop switched to his cell but didn’t talk much softer.
    When they reached the first floor and were heading toward the exit, Ferguson handed his phone to Boone. “For you. Commander Lang.”
    Great.
    â€œHey, Commander.”
    â€œDrake, what’re you pulling? I know you’re a celebrity now, but when you’re under the protection of the 11th precinct, you got to watch out for us too.”
    â€œI’ll take full responsibility.”
    â€œYou sure as fire will. Can my guys