The Haunted Air by F. Paul Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

steer-clear warning was a deep melancholy. So when he’d seen his question—“How is my sister?”—Lyle’s instincts shouted, Recently deceased!
    If the reaction of the woman with him was any indicator, Lyle had scored a bull’s-eye.
    â€œBut we came out okay,” Lyle said. “We may have hooked a future fish or two, and after Moonie finds her long lost bracelet right where I told her it would be, she’ll be singing my praises to anyone who’ll listen.”
    Charlie sat down at the upright piano that had come with the house, and pounded the keys. “Wish I could play.”
    â€œTake lessons,” Lyle said as he drifted to the front picture window.
    He pulled back the curtain just enough to reveal the bullet hole at the center of its crack web. Before filling it with translucent rubber cement, he’d run a pencil through the hole with ease. So small, and yet so deadly. For the thousandth time he wondered—
    Movement to his right caught his eye. What? God damn! Someone was out there!
    â€œHey!” he shouted as a burst of rage drove him toward the front door.
    â€œWhassup?” Charlie said.
    â€œCompany!” Lyle yanked open the door and leaped onto
the front porch. “ Hey! ” he shouted again as he spotted a dark figure racing away across the lawn.
    Lyle sprinted after him. Somewhere in his brain he heard faint cries of Danger! and Bullets! but he ignored them. His blood was up. Good chance this was the banger wannabe who’d done the drive-by, but he wasn’t driving now, and he wasn’t shooting, he was running, and Lyle wanted a piece of him.
    The guy was carrying something. Looked like a big can of some sort. He glanced over his shoulder. Lyle caught a flash of pale skin, then the guy was tossing the can Lyle’s way. It didn’t go far—sailed maybe half a dozen feet then hit the ground with a metallic sound and rolled. Unburdened, the guy picked up speed and beat Lyle to the curb where he hopped into a car that was already moving before the door closed.
    Lyle pulled up at the sidewalk, gasping for air. Out of shape. Charlie came up beside him, breathing hard, but not as hard as big brother.
    â€œSee his face?”
    â€œNot enough to recognize. But he’s white.”
    â€œFigured that.”
    Lyle turned and headed back. “Let’s go see what he dropped.”
    He squatted by the object and turned it over. A gasoline can.
    â€œShit!”
    â€œWhat he gonna do? Burn a cross?”
    â€œDoubt it.” Whites were in the minority on these streets. Another dark face moving in was a nonevent. “This is business. He was looking to burn us out.”
    He rose and kicked the can, sending it rolling across the grass. The New York psychic game had only so many players. One of them had done this. He just had to find out who.
    But how?

4
    â€œAll right,” Gia said. “We’re finally alone. Tell me how Ifasen did what he did.”
    She’d been dying to know ever since they’d left the psychic’s house, but they’d been stuck driving Junie home. Since Karyn and Claude lived on the Lower East Side as well, they’d tagged along. Jack had dropped all three outside Junie’s apartment building and now he was ferrying Gia uptown on First Avenue.
    Despite the late hour, progress was slow. Gia didn’t mind. Time with Jack was never wasted.
    â€œFirst let’s decide where we’re going,” Jack said. “Your place or mine?”
    Gia glanced at her watch. “Mine, I’m afraid. We’re getting to the end of the sitter’s time frame.”
    Vicky, her eight-year-old, still would be up. She rarely failed to cadge extra hours of TV out of her sitters.
    Jack sighed dramatically. “Another celibate night.”
    Gia leaned close and nuzzled his ear. “But it’s the last one for the next week. Did you forget that Vicky leaves for camp tomorrow