Read Online Dark Prophecy by Anthony E. Zuiker - Free Book Online
Authors: Anthony E. Zuiker
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will figure out a way to make it work. Or come close enough. Dark had read a piece the other day concerning DARPA’s efforts to turn soldiers’ waste products into tank fuel.
What did she do for DARPA? And what did she mean by “help”?
Dark hated the skullduggery. Five years ago, when Wycoff had started blackmailing him into an endless series of “favors,” the government had supplied a babysitter named Brenda Condor to look after Dark’s daughter, Sibby. Dark hated leaving his little girl in the hands of a stranger, whose allegiance was represented by a set of paper credentials (easily faked) and a phone call from Wycoff. But what choice did he have? It wasn’t as if Dark could pack a diaper bag and bring his infant daughter on an international manhunt.
As it turned out, “Brenda Condor” was more than a babysitter. Wycoff had hired her to keep close tabs on Dark, which meant worming her way into his personal life. Fucking him, being the shoulder he could cry on, whatever it took to keep him together. Dark was an asset; Brenda Condor his handler.
Some guys, they come home early one day to find their partners banging the garden boy. Not Dark. He came home early and caught her making a detailing report to Wycoff.
That, somehow, hurt even more.
Dark kicked her out, then sent baby Sibby to live with her grandparents. It was the toughest thing he’d ever done. The entire flight to Santa Barbara he kept looking at his fellow passengers, wondering who might be watching him. Trailing him. Sibby, meanwhile, was obliviously happy, drooling and playing with a tiny stuffed tiger he’d bought her. No idea she was about to be abandoned for the second time in her short life.
I hope you’ll understand someday, little girl.
And now, someone who reminded him a lot of “Brenda Condor”—if that was even the agent’s real name—was trying to worm into his life. He didn’t trust her. He also didn’t need it.
Dark’s life was pretty fucking far from perfect, but it was also uncomplicated. Sibby was with grandparents who doted on her every move. Dark spent his time driving around, working on the house, or reading about murders in the lair. The whole reason he’d left Special Circs was to clear his head of the madness and try to figure out a way to enter his daughter’s life again. So unless this Lisa Graysmith had a way of bringing people back from the dead, he doubted there was anything she could do to help .
Dark made his way upstairs to wash his face, grab a beer, try to tune things out for a while.
But she was already sitting on his couch, patiently waiting for him.
chapter 14
“Want to tell me how you got in here?” Dark asked.
Graysmith crossed one leg over the other and leaned back. She’d changed clothes. If this afternoon she wanted to project the aura of stone-cold professional, now it was laid-back confidence. She wore a designer T-shirt, jeans—casual chic. The kind of clothes Sibby would wear around their old house in Malibu.
“Your security system’s good,” she said. “And I can tell you’ve done some of your own modifications. But no offense, it’s still kind of Fisher-Price, compared to the systems I’m used to.”
“You can stop trying to impress me,” Dark said. “I’ve done my homework. I think I found what you wanted me to find. Your résumé would be a spy’s wet dream.”
“I just want you to know that I’m serious.”
“I am very much taking you seriously.”
“I don’t think so,” Graysmith said. “Nobody ever has, really. They see my smile and think I’m blithe.”
Graysmith reached into her bag and pulled out a photo. She placed it on Dark’s coffee table. “This was Julie.”
Dark nodded without looking down. “I remember what she looked like.”
Graysmith smiled ruefully. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell you a sob story. Julie was a bratty little sister. I was ten years older, so it felt like we grew up in two different homes. My parents
What did she do for DARPA? And what did she mean by “help”?
Dark hated the skullduggery. Five years ago, when Wycoff had started blackmailing him into an endless series of “favors,” the government had supplied a babysitter named Brenda Condor to look after Dark’s daughter, Sibby. Dark hated leaving his little girl in the hands of a stranger, whose allegiance was represented by a set of paper credentials (easily faked) and a phone call from Wycoff. But what choice did he have? It wasn’t as if Dark could pack a diaper bag and bring his infant daughter on an international manhunt.
As it turned out, “Brenda Condor” was more than a babysitter. Wycoff had hired her to keep close tabs on Dark, which meant worming her way into his personal life. Fucking him, being the shoulder he could cry on, whatever it took to keep him together. Dark was an asset; Brenda Condor his handler.
Some guys, they come home early one day to find their partners banging the garden boy. Not Dark. He came home early and caught her making a detailing report to Wycoff.
That, somehow, hurt even more.
Dark kicked her out, then sent baby Sibby to live with her grandparents. It was the toughest thing he’d ever done. The entire flight to Santa Barbara he kept looking at his fellow passengers, wondering who might be watching him. Trailing him. Sibby, meanwhile, was obliviously happy, drooling and playing with a tiny stuffed tiger he’d bought her. No idea she was about to be abandoned for the second time in her short life.
I hope you’ll understand someday, little girl.
And now, someone who reminded him a lot of “Brenda Condor”—if that was even the agent’s real name—was trying to worm into his life. He didn’t trust her. He also didn’t need it.
Dark’s life was pretty fucking far from perfect, but it was also uncomplicated. Sibby was with grandparents who doted on her every move. Dark spent his time driving around, working on the house, or reading about murders in the lair. The whole reason he’d left Special Circs was to clear his head of the madness and try to figure out a way to enter his daughter’s life again. So unless this Lisa Graysmith had a way of bringing people back from the dead, he doubted there was anything she could do to help .
Dark made his way upstairs to wash his face, grab a beer, try to tune things out for a while.
But she was already sitting on his couch, patiently waiting for him.
chapter 14
“Want to tell me how you got in here?” Dark asked.
Graysmith crossed one leg over the other and leaned back. She’d changed clothes. If this afternoon she wanted to project the aura of stone-cold professional, now it was laid-back confidence. She wore a designer T-shirt, jeans—casual chic. The kind of clothes Sibby would wear around their old house in Malibu.
“Your security system’s good,” she said. “And I can tell you’ve done some of your own modifications. But no offense, it’s still kind of Fisher-Price, compared to the systems I’m used to.”
“You can stop trying to impress me,” Dark said. “I’ve done my homework. I think I found what you wanted me to find. Your résumé would be a spy’s wet dream.”
“I just want you to know that I’m serious.”
“I am very much taking you seriously.”
“I don’t think so,” Graysmith said. “Nobody ever has, really. They see my smile and think I’m blithe.”
Graysmith reached into her bag and pulled out a photo. She placed it on Dark’s coffee table. “This was Julie.”
Dark nodded without looking down. “I remember what she looked like.”
Graysmith smiled ruefully. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell you a sob story. Julie was a bratty little sister. I was ten years older, so it felt like we grew up in two different homes. My parents
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