Read Online Blowback (The Black Cipher Files Book 1) by Lisa Hughey - Free Book Online
Authors: Lisa Hughey
Ads: Link
onto a less busy side street, traffic more muted and pedestrians few and far between.
Finally, I gave in. “Okay, okay. Tell me more about the kid.”
NINE
"John Michael Wishbone is eighteen.”
“Legal.”
“His mother asked me to look for him after he disappeared.”
“He’s a big boy.” What was the problem? He was eighteen, plenty old enough to take care of himself.
I waited, knowing he’d volunteer the information when he got around to it. So far, nothing raised any flags. Kid took off. Mama wanted him back.
I thought back to when I was eighteen. I’d been learning about anti-aircraft missiles and studying five different languages, burying my grief about my family in learning to protect my sister.
“Kid probably just wanted a little freedom. This mother sounds a bit overprotective.” I ignored the pang of longing, the wish for a mother who’d been around to be overprotective. No one had worried about me in a very long time.
I sensed him stiffen. I glanced around quickly, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. My gaze went back to Lucas. His face was still, impassive. That’s what clued me in to how disturbed he was about this kid.
“Why doesn’t the mother just wait for him to come home?”
“He’s not a typical eighteen year old. His father--” He stopped, his voice devoid of any expression but his eyes were tortured. “Was killed in the collapse of the Twin Towers.”
Ouch. That kind of hurt I understood. Of course, I’d pushed away the devastation of my parents’ death and immersed myself in learning everything I could about avenging them.
“He’d been depressed, moody. He was on medication and in therapy, then suddenly, he stopped.”
Wish someone had thought to give me happy drugs when my parents bought it. Then again, maybe they hadn’t on purpose.
The angry wail of a fire truck ripped through the night air. I blinked, did a quick recon of our surroundings.
A trio of women in business suits spent an inordinate amount of time staring into a shop window. But, when a fourth woman came out loaded with shopping bags, I relaxed.
“He started hanging around with ME’s, young men of...Middle Eastern descent.”
“Maybe he was trying to understand their culture.” Or learn the enemy. The thought popped into my head before I could censor it.
“His mother wasn’t happy with his choice of friends. But he was eighteen and he’d stopped needing all the other forms of coping. He seemed to have a purpose. The new friends seemed to give him a focus.”
But what had the focus been? Despite myself, I was intrigued.
“He was in a car accident with minor injuries. They decided to keep him overnight for observation. Hospital officials told his mother a woman visited her son in his room and twenty minutes later, he checked himself out. And disappeared.”
I waited. But Lucas seemed to be done.
“No trace?”
“None.”
Jesus. It was as if this kid had replicated my life. Except I hadn’t had a mama at home to worry about me. A pang echoed in my chest. I shoved away that traitorous longing for someone to care.
“What’s wrong?” Lucas slowed, going to high alert, his body tensed and ready to fight.
“Nothing,” I said abruptly, totally unsettled he could pick up on my mood shift. “Girlfriend?”
“No.”
“So he ran away.” I shrugged, struggling for no reaction. Happened all the time.
He eyed me knowingly. “I don’t think so.”
“Why didn’t the mother call the police?”
“She was worried about the consequences.”
“Consequences?”
He hesitated, so I nudged. “I need to know all the facts if you want my advice.”
“She was afraid of a kind of John Walker Lind type lashback. She didn’t want her son in prison for the rest of his life.”
“Why would she think that?”
“The son of a slain FBI agent joins a terrorist cell.”
I raised a brow. So Lucas’s missing boy had a Fed for a father. Those headlines would sell a lotta
Finally, I gave in. “Okay, okay. Tell me more about the kid.”
NINE
"John Michael Wishbone is eighteen.”
“Legal.”
“His mother asked me to look for him after he disappeared.”
“He’s a big boy.” What was the problem? He was eighteen, plenty old enough to take care of himself.
I waited, knowing he’d volunteer the information when he got around to it. So far, nothing raised any flags. Kid took off. Mama wanted him back.
I thought back to when I was eighteen. I’d been learning about anti-aircraft missiles and studying five different languages, burying my grief about my family in learning to protect my sister.
“Kid probably just wanted a little freedom. This mother sounds a bit overprotective.” I ignored the pang of longing, the wish for a mother who’d been around to be overprotective. No one had worried about me in a very long time.
I sensed him stiffen. I glanced around quickly, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. My gaze went back to Lucas. His face was still, impassive. That’s what clued me in to how disturbed he was about this kid.
“Why doesn’t the mother just wait for him to come home?”
“He’s not a typical eighteen year old. His father--” He stopped, his voice devoid of any expression but his eyes were tortured. “Was killed in the collapse of the Twin Towers.”
Ouch. That kind of hurt I understood. Of course, I’d pushed away the devastation of my parents’ death and immersed myself in learning everything I could about avenging them.
“He’d been depressed, moody. He was on medication and in therapy, then suddenly, he stopped.”
Wish someone had thought to give me happy drugs when my parents bought it. Then again, maybe they hadn’t on purpose.
The angry wail of a fire truck ripped through the night air. I blinked, did a quick recon of our surroundings.
A trio of women in business suits spent an inordinate amount of time staring into a shop window. But, when a fourth woman came out loaded with shopping bags, I relaxed.
“He started hanging around with ME’s, young men of...Middle Eastern descent.”
“Maybe he was trying to understand their culture.” Or learn the enemy. The thought popped into my head before I could censor it.
“His mother wasn’t happy with his choice of friends. But he was eighteen and he’d stopped needing all the other forms of coping. He seemed to have a purpose. The new friends seemed to give him a focus.”
But what had the focus been? Despite myself, I was intrigued.
“He was in a car accident with minor injuries. They decided to keep him overnight for observation. Hospital officials told his mother a woman visited her son in his room and twenty minutes later, he checked himself out. And disappeared.”
I waited. But Lucas seemed to be done.
“No trace?”
“None.”
Jesus. It was as if this kid had replicated my life. Except I hadn’t had a mama at home to worry about me. A pang echoed in my chest. I shoved away that traitorous longing for someone to care.
“What’s wrong?” Lucas slowed, going to high alert, his body tensed and ready to fight.
“Nothing,” I said abruptly, totally unsettled he could pick up on my mood shift. “Girlfriend?”
“No.”
“So he ran away.” I shrugged, struggling for no reaction. Happened all the time.
He eyed me knowingly. “I don’t think so.”
“Why didn’t the mother call the police?”
“She was worried about the consequences.”
“Consequences?”
He hesitated, so I nudged. “I need to know all the facts if you want my advice.”
“She was afraid of a kind of John Walker Lind type lashback. She didn’t want her son in prison for the rest of his life.”
“Why would she think that?”
“The son of a slain FBI agent joins a terrorist cell.”
I raised a brow. So Lucas’s missing boy had a Fed for a father. Those headlines would sell a lotta
Similar Books
