Read Online Confessions: The Paris Mysteries by James Patterson - Free Book Online Page B

Jacob and I were only steps behind. We all hugged Harry really hard, but he hardly hugged us back.
    “Are you okay?” I asked. “What did they do to you?”
    “I’m really mad,” he said. “Does that count for anything?”
    Delavergne said, “You’ll be all right,
mon fils
. Jacob, you can take this young man home. There may be more questions until Monsieur Ferrara accepts the facts of his daughter’s death, but right now, Harry is free.”
    Delavergne had fought for my brother, and he had
won
. I felt a little explosion of intense love for the man, until Delavergne said to our uncle, “Jacob, you and I have to meet. The board will have to be informed of this situation. On the other hand—they may already know.”
    I whipped around, looked out through the front windows, and saw a pack of people jostling for position behind the short iron fence on the median strip.
    My heart, already exhausted from today’s workout, sank.
    The
press
had found us.
Mega
-press. And then we were out on the street with Harry.
    From the insignias on their caps, jackets, and satellite vans, the reporters were French, American, German, and English, both TV and print journalists, all of them shouting.
    “Harry Angel.
Harry!
”
    “Harry. Over here. Look this way.”
    “Did you give drugs to Lulu Ferrara?”
    Monsieur Delavergne, Jacob, and Monsieur Morel formed a wall of muscle, and I followed right behind them with a brother under each arm.
    Harry hissed to me, “I didn’t hurt anyone. You know that’s the last thing I would ever do.”
    I said, “I know that. Who knows you better than me?”
    We were only steps away from the safety of the car when Harry’s knees buckled. He gasped, his eyes rolled back, and then my brother dropped to the pavement.
    I screamed,
“Harry! Harry, what’s wrong? Jacob, help!”
    Harry was shaking horribly, twitching and foaming as the press jumped the median strip barrier. Oh my God, what was wrong with Harry? Had he been poisoned with whatever had killed Lulu?
    Was he dying?
    Hugo threw himself on top of Harry, covering him as best he could, protecting him from the clicking cameras and the rolling tape. I pulled at Hugo. “Hugo, no. He has to breathe.”
    I heard Jacob directing Delavergne and Morel to lift Harry into the car. It was all happening too slowly.
    I pushed Hugo into the backseat after Harry, then scrambled in behind him and closed the door. Harry was moaning, still shuddering and twitching.
    “We’ve got to get to the hospital. Fast!”
I shouted.
    Jacob said to us, “Buckle up.” And to Morel, “Let’s go.”

The American Hospital was to hospitals
what the Plaza is to hotels. It was an awesome place with famous doctors and the best medical services on the Continent. And then there were the bonus amenities like Wi-Fi; gourmet meals; and hairdressers, pedicurists, and masseuses by appointment.
    It was almost like a resort where you could have brain surgery and get a high-fashion haircut at the same time.
    Hugo kept Harry company while Harry’s doctor met with Jacob and me outside the closed door. Since Dr. West is a highly regarded cardiac surgeon and I’m a sixteen-year-old girl, needless to say, he spoke over my head.
    He said to my uncle, “Harrison’s symptoms: breathlessness, dizziness, and the syncope—that’s fainting—the fluttering in the chest and sudden weakness—these all are indications of tachycardia. It’s generally not very serious, and I’ve seen a lot of this in teenage boys.
    “But you should know that tachycardia can be brought on by using energy drinks—either alone or as a mixer. Stimulant drugs like cocaine can also bring on tachycardia. Given that Harrison had been at a party, followed by the stress of the police interrogation, it all makes sense. I’m not concerned with the tachycardia—”
    I interrupted. “So is he going to be all right?”
    The doctor ignored me. “As for the arrhythmia, this is an irregular heartbeat that
can
be life