Read Online Blindsight by Robin Cook - Free Book Online

Tony had Frankie untied, Angelo helped carry the limp body over to the hole in the floor. On the count of three they heaved him into the river. Angelo watched just long enough to make sure that the running tide took the body out into the river proper.

"Let's head back to Woodside to pay the others a social call," Angelo said.
The address that Frankie had given was a small two-story row house with an apartment on each floor. The outer door was locked but it had a mechanism amenable to a credit card. They were inside in minutes.
Positioning themselves on either side of the door to apartment one, Angelo knocked. There was no answer. From the street they'd seen that the lights were on. "Bust it," Angelo said, nodding toward the door. Tony took several steps back, then kicked the door. The jamb splintered on the first kick and the door swung in. In the blink of an eye both Angelo and Tony were in the small apartment with their guns gripped in both hands. The apartment was empty save for several half-filled bottles of beer on the coffee table. The TV was on.
"What do you figure?" Tony asked.
"They must have got spooked when Frankie didn't come back," Angelo said. He lit a cigarette and thought for a moment.
"What next?" Tony questioned.
"You know where this Bruno's family lives?" Angelo asked. "No, but I can find out," Tony said.
"Do it," Angelo said.
3
7:55 a.m., Tuesday
Manhattan
It was a glorious morning as Laurie Montgomery walked north on First Avenue, nearing Thirtieth Street. Even New York City looked good in the cool crisp air scrubbed clean from a day of rain. It was definitely colder than the previous days and in that sense a disturbing reminder of the coming winter. But the sun was out and there was enough breeze to disperse the exhaust of the vehicles jostling their way in Laurie's direction.
Laurie's step had a definite spring to it as she approached the medical examiner's office. She smiled to herself as she thought how differently she felt this morning as compared to how she'd felt when she'd left for home the night before. Bingham's reprimand had been unpleasant but deserved. She'd been in the wrong. If she'd been chief she would have been equally as angry. As she approached the front steps, she wondered what the day would bring. One aspect of her work she particularly enjoyed was its unpredictability. All she knew was that she was scheduled to be "on

autopsy." She had no idea what kinds of cases and what kinds of intellectual puzzles she'd encounter that
day. Just about every time she was on autopsy, she dealt with something she'd never seen, sometimes something she'd never even read about. It was a job that meant continual discovery. This morning the reception area was relatively quiet. There were still a few media people hanging around for more word on the "preppy murder II" case. Yesterday's Central Park murder had made the front page of the tabloids and the local morning news. Just shy of the inner door, Laurie stopped. Over on one of the vinyl couches she spotted Bob Talbot deep in conversation with another reporter. After a moment's hesitation Laurie strode over to the couch. "Bob, I'd like to talk to you a moment," she said. Then to his companion, she added, "Pardon me for interrupting."
Bob eagerly got to his feet and stepped aside with Laurie. His attitude surprised her. She would have expected him to be more sheepish and contrite. "Seeing you two days in a row must be some sort of record," Bob said. "It's a pleasure I could get used to."
Laurie started right in. "I can't believe you didn't have more respect for my confidence. What I told you yesterday was meant for your ears only." Bob was clearly taken aback by Laurie's rebuke. "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't think what you were saying was a secret. You didn't say so." "You could have thought about it," Laurie fumed. "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to guess what such a statement would do to my standing around here." "I'm sorry," Bob