The Constantine Conspiracy by Gary Parker Read Free Book Online

few things in a way that wouldn’t hurt anyone in order to change something that might harm many.
    Back in Steve Carson’s bedroom, Shannon knew she had only a minute to make things right before the cops saw what she didn’t want them to see. She rushed to the body, bent to the ruby-handled knife, and pried it from the wound. Then she laid it down and pulled out the knife from the sleeve on her ankle. Her hands shaking, she carefully inserted the hunting knife into Carson’s hand, then slipped the ruby-handled weapon into the now-vacant ankle sleeve. Finished with the gruesome work, she stepped away, her body pouring sweat, her heart pounding under her ribs like a drunken drummer.

    As Rick Carson sped east, he had no clear plan for what to do next. Although part of him wanted to head straight for his grandfather and the protection offered by his vast resources, he had no desire to bring any added stresses to Pops, as the family called him. It wasn’t that Pops couldn’t handle tough situations—heaven knew the man had dealt for years with enough pressure to crush an anvil—but at eighty-three years old, one more stone might finally prove too heavy. Plus, he didn’t see Pops much anymore, not since his dad and mom . . .
    Rick pushed away the unpleasant memory and punched in Pops’ number on Luisa’s cell phone. Regardless of the past, the old man deserved to hear today’s news from him, not from some strange detective showing up on his doorstep with his hat in his hands. The phone reached an answering machine, and Rick, unwilling to leave a message about something so important, hung up.
    He passed a truck in the Hummer. Where to go next? A long list of names ran through his head—scores of past girlfriends and partying buddies of all stripes, notorious celebrities who littered his days and nights with their company. But none of them seemed right. Odd, he thought, turning left toward Wolf Creek, the nearest town east of Solitude. In a moment of crisis he, a man with a face known to millions and a Blackberry filled with the private numbers of hundreds of people, knew of no one person to whom he felt comfortable turning.
    He slowed as he neared Wolf Creek. One thing he knew for certain—within the hour the cops would publish a public alert for his vehicle, so he needed a different mode of transportation in a hurry. He pulled his cash from the case beside him and quickly counted just over a hundred thousand dollars. He reached Main Street as he tucked the money away again, and his eyes scanned the area, hoping but not expecting to see a motorcycle somewhere. With no bike in sight, he turned into the parking lot of a small restaurant and checked it over, spotted a clean, used black pickup near the front door. Okay, showtime. He tugged on the Bulldog baseball cap, grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment, settled them over his eyes, and climbed out.
    Five minutes later and twelve thousand dollars lighter in his cash, he stepped out of the restaurant with a middle-aged man from whom he’d just bought the pickup, unloaded his belongings from the Hummer, and piled them into the truck as the man finished getting his things from his vehicle.
    “Take care,” Rick said, climbing behind the wheel of his new transportation.
    “You leaving that Hummer?” the man asked.
    “A friend will pick it up later.”
    “Lucky friend.”
    Rick shut the door as the man stepped away. From out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a police car driving slowly toward the restaurant. His hands shaking, he sat up straighter, turned the ignition, and backed up. The cop stopped at the red light and glanced his way. Rick nodded slightly, slipped the truck into drive and turned right, drove by the policeman, and headed out of town.

    Shannon Bridge disliked hiding anything, but for reasons only she knew she didn’t tell Officers Russell and Baker, the two cops who showed up with the ambulance, that Rick Carson had pulled a gun on