Turning Angel by Greg Iles Read Free Book Online Page A

of the characters. I think I recognized a few.”
    I give Ellen an obligatory laugh and ring off. Where the hell is Drew? I’m afraid I already know the answer. I start to dial my parents’ house, but it’s too late to ask my mother to come over. Instead, I dial Mia’s cell. She answer after two rings.
    “Penn?”
    “Afraid so. Is there any chance you could come back for about an hour? Annie’s asleep, but I need to go out.”
    “Um, I guess so. Is it important? Of course it is. You wouldn’t call if it weren’t.”
    “Are you with your friends now?”
    “Such as they are. Everybody’s pretty freaked out. But I’m not far away from you, actually. I can be there in five minutes.”
    “Thanks. I’ll pay you double your usual rate.”
    “You don’t have to do that. I’m on my way.”
    I hang up and walk back to my bedroom, the only one on the ground floor of the house. In the top of my closet is a nine-millimeter Springfield XD-9 with a fifteen-round clip. I carried a .38-caliber revolver in Houston, but recent experience taught me the wisdom of having a large magazine. I keep the weapon close, albeit with a trigger lock to protect Annie. Unlocking the guard mechanism, I slip the pistol barrel into the pocket of my jeans and grab a waterproof windbreaker from the closet.
    Waiting on the front steps for Mia, I call Drew’s cell phone again. When he fails to answer, I consider calling the police for help—but only for a moment. The risks to Drew are too great. When Mia pulls up to the curb, I give her a wave and walk to my Saab, hoping to avoid any explanations.
    “Everything okay?” she calls.
    I turn back to her. “Fine. Annie’s still in bed. I just need to run an errand.”
    Mia nods, but I see suspicion in her eyes. I’ve never called her on such short notice before.
    “What else have the kids been saying?” I ask.
    “All kinds of things. But it’s mostly bullshit. You know how people are. Like you said…Natchez.”
    “I should be back in less than an hour, but if I’m not, you can stay, right?”
    “I’ll be here when you get back.”
    I move toward my car. “I really appreciate it, Mia.”
    “Is that a gun in your pants?”
    I look down. The butt of the Springfield is sticking up in front of my windbreaker.
    Mia isn’t looking at the pistol but at me, her eyes questioning. I start to give her an explanation, but nothing would really make sense. As casually as possible, I pull the tail of the windbreaker over the gun.
    “Penn, are you okay?”
    “Yes. Mia, you—”
    “I didn’t see anything,” she says, her face radiating assurance. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”
    If only that were true. “Keep a close eye on Annie.”
    “I will. Bye.” She turns and hurries into the house.
    I climb into my Saab and start the engine, wondering what kind of insanity I’ll find when I reach St. Stephen’s.
    Chapter 4
    Buck Stadium was called simply “the bowl” when I was a student at St. Stephen’s, and the reason was plain. Back then, the stadium was only an oval hole in the ground surrounded by pine and hardwood trees. Spectators sat on its grassy sides to cheer during Bucks games, until enough money was raised to build rudimentary bleachers. Tonight three new school buildings stand on the south side of the bowl, and wide concrete steps march all the way down to the field. The bleachers are massive prefab units like those at college football stadiums, and huge banks of overhead lights can turn night into day at the flick of a switch. Fancy dressing rooms and a workout center stand on a terraced shelf halfway down the hill, and a blue rubberized track surrounds the football field. The year we fought our way to the state football championship, Drew and I practiced in a cow pasture filled with holes and played under dim “security lights” like the ones in supermarket parking lots.
    Despite all the improvements, there’s still only one narrow access road to the bottom of the