Read Online Bloodline by F. Paul Wilson - Free Book Online
Authors: F. Paul Wilson
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, Romance, Fantasy fiction, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Horror, Private Investigators, Mystery Fiction, Hard-Boiled, Fiction - Mystery, Mystery & Detective - Hard-Boiled, Occult & Supernatural, Horror - General, Repairman Jack (Fictitious Character)
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outside doctors' homes. They'd finally caught the guy and put him away, but it had been all anyone had talked about at the time.
Just in case, Jack scanned the article for the name Jerry Bethlehem but found no mention.
He clicked the BACK button. He'd learned a few simple computer tricks—ways to hide his browsing history and locate others'—but didn't need them here. He found a page of Google search results for "atlanta abortion assassination." He checked out a few but found no mention of Bethlehem. Maybe related to another case Gerhard was working on? Had he stumbled onto something he shouldn't have? Was that why he'd been killed?
Going further back he found searches for "aaron levy md" and "creighton institute," and finally "gerald bethlehem." Jack clicked that and was rewarded with half a million hits ranging anywhere from people named Gerald living in Bethlehem, PA, to articles on Jesus or Christmas by guys named Gerald.
Forget it.
He found a pen, then a pad with oDNA ? written on the top sheet. Huh. He tore it off and shoved it into a pocket. He copied down the search strings, then searched Gerhard's computer for "Bethlehem." A folder popped up in the search results window. He opened it and found a list of .jpg files. Clicking through them revealed a series of photos of a man with a neat beard walking with his arm across the shoulders of a young blonde. The flattened perspective indicated they were surveillance photos taken with a telephoto lens.
He checked out the girl. Had to be Dawn Pickering. Had her mother's eyes, but a round, pug face and a body bordering pudgy. Not exactly a traffic stopper. What attracted Bethlehem to her? They say there's someone for everyone. Was that it? Was this the girl of his dreams? Maybe he just had a thing for young stuff. Or was it, like her mother suspected, something else?
Jack printed out a couple of the shots. The old laser printer turned the color originals into grainy black and white, but at least they gave him an idea what this guy looked like.
The Bethlehem folder also contained a Word file labeled "Levy." He opened that and found a telephone number with a 914 area code and an address in Rathburg, New York. Jack had heard of it—someplace north of the city, he thought, but wasn't sure. He printed out a copy of that too. When he'd folded the printouts and stuffed them in a pocket, he wiped down whatever he'd touched and returned to the bathroom.
He used the shirt to turn off the water, then squatted next to the tub and tried to piece together what had gone down here.
The long bungee cord was tied to the rope that bound Gerhard's knees. It ran forward to and through the eyebolt under the head. From there it stretched up and wrapped around the neck three times before tying into a knot at the nape.
The links between the handcuffs ran through the eyebolt as well.
What the hell…?
And then Jack saw it. Gerhard must have been unconscious when he was hog-tied like this. The cuffs prevented his hands from reaching the knots. The bungee pulled his head down. With the tub filled Gerhard would have to strain against the cord to keep his head above water. Couldn't strain too hard or the bungee would tighten around his neck.
He'd probably screamed for help until his throat went raw and his voice failed, but no one heard him.
Keeping his head above the surface wouldn't be too difficult at first, but as the cold water lowered his body temperature and his muscles fatigued, he'd be forced to let his head sink to give them a rest. Then he'd lift his head for a breath before letting it sink again. Bobbing for air instead of apples.
Inevitably, when the muscles became too weak to raise his nostrils above sea level—depending on his strength, that might have taken a day or so—he'd drown.
Jack shook his head, chilled. Some sick bastard with a major hard-on for Gerhard had spent a lot of time dreaming this up.
The PI might have been a good guy, might have been a sleazeball, but
Just in case, Jack scanned the article for the name Jerry Bethlehem but found no mention.
He clicked the BACK button. He'd learned a few simple computer tricks—ways to hide his browsing history and locate others'—but didn't need them here. He found a page of Google search results for "atlanta abortion assassination." He checked out a few but found no mention of Bethlehem. Maybe related to another case Gerhard was working on? Had he stumbled onto something he shouldn't have? Was that why he'd been killed?
Going further back he found searches for "aaron levy md" and "creighton institute," and finally "gerald bethlehem." Jack clicked that and was rewarded with half a million hits ranging anywhere from people named Gerald living in Bethlehem, PA, to articles on Jesus or Christmas by guys named Gerald.
Forget it.
He found a pen, then a pad with oDNA ? written on the top sheet. Huh. He tore it off and shoved it into a pocket. He copied down the search strings, then searched Gerhard's computer for "Bethlehem." A folder popped up in the search results window. He opened it and found a list of .jpg files. Clicking through them revealed a series of photos of a man with a neat beard walking with his arm across the shoulders of a young blonde. The flattened perspective indicated they were surveillance photos taken with a telephoto lens.
He checked out the girl. Had to be Dawn Pickering. Had her mother's eyes, but a round, pug face and a body bordering pudgy. Not exactly a traffic stopper. What attracted Bethlehem to her? They say there's someone for everyone. Was that it? Was this the girl of his dreams? Maybe he just had a thing for young stuff. Or was it, like her mother suspected, something else?
Jack printed out a couple of the shots. The old laser printer turned the color originals into grainy black and white, but at least they gave him an idea what this guy looked like.
The Bethlehem folder also contained a Word file labeled "Levy." He opened that and found a telephone number with a 914 area code and an address in Rathburg, New York. Jack had heard of it—someplace north of the city, he thought, but wasn't sure. He printed out a copy of that too. When he'd folded the printouts and stuffed them in a pocket, he wiped down whatever he'd touched and returned to the bathroom.
He used the shirt to turn off the water, then squatted next to the tub and tried to piece together what had gone down here.
The long bungee cord was tied to the rope that bound Gerhard's knees. It ran forward to and through the eyebolt under the head. From there it stretched up and wrapped around the neck three times before tying into a knot at the nape.
The links between the handcuffs ran through the eyebolt as well.
What the hell…?
And then Jack saw it. Gerhard must have been unconscious when he was hog-tied like this. The cuffs prevented his hands from reaching the knots. The bungee pulled his head down. With the tub filled Gerhard would have to strain against the cord to keep his head above water. Couldn't strain too hard or the bungee would tighten around his neck.
He'd probably screamed for help until his throat went raw and his voice failed, but no one heard him.
Keeping his head above the surface wouldn't be too difficult at first, but as the cold water lowered his body temperature and his muscles fatigued, he'd be forced to let his head sink to give them a rest. Then he'd lift his head for a breath before letting it sink again. Bobbing for air instead of apples.
Inevitably, when the muscles became too weak to raise his nostrils above sea level—depending on his strength, that might have taken a day or so—he'd drown.
Jack shook his head, chilled. Some sick bastard with a major hard-on for Gerhard had spent a lot of time dreaming this up.
The PI might have been a good guy, might have been a sleazeball, but
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