Read Online Kiss Her Goodbye (A Thriller) by Robert Gregory Browne - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Gregory Browne
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Svengali-like influence of her husband—whatever that meant—a big, badass bank robber that practically every cop in the country was looking for.
A big, badass bank robber with a ponytail.
Knowing he was now only feet away made Jessie sick to her stomach. A dozen different scenarios ran through her mind, none of which made any sense.
Why was he following her?
And what the hell did he want?
Sitting here wondering about it didn’t help. She had to do something and do it now.
One thing her dad had always drilled into her head, even when she was just a kid, was this: if you find yourself in a situation beyond your control, don’t be shy, do everything you can to regain that control—immediately.
And that’s what she intended to do.
Without even thinking about it, Jessie tossed her backpack off her lap and shot up from her seat.
Laura looked up in surprise. “Jess? What’s wrong?”
Jessie didn’t look at her. Her eyes were on the bus driver.
“Stop!” she shouted. “Stop the bus!”
13
I NTERROGATION ROOM 3 wasn’t much more than a table, two chairs, and four blank walls that always felt as if they were closing in on you. Whether they had an effect on Bobby Nemo was anybody’s guess.
Jack Donovan dropped a tagged and bagged submachine gun to the tabletop. An H&K MP5. Unlicensed. Fully automatic. They’d found it under Carla Devito’s bed—part of a shipment they’d been tracing for months. They’d also found something in Carla’s bathroom, something distinctly incriminating, but Donovan was keeping it under wraps for the time being. Saving it for leverage.
“Here’s how it plays, Bobby. Just on the HK alone, you’re looking at five in the bucket. Throw in Northland First and Trust and a handful of dead cops, and we’re talking some very serious sphincter time.”
Nemo sat in one of the aluminum and vinyl chairs, his shackled hands in his lap. He eyeballed Donovan, but said nothing.
Donovan grabbed his own chair, straddled it. “You hearing me, Bobby? Multiple counts means consecutive sentences, my friend, so you can kiss off any hopes of an early release.”
Nemo remained silent.
“I’d be happy to show you the guidelines.”
“Fuck the guidelines. What are you selling?”
“I think you know.” Donovan pulled a manila file folder from under his arm, flipped it open, and slid it across the table. Inside was a Most Wanted flyer featuring a grainy black-and-white photo of Alexander Gunderson.
Nemo snorted. “This is a joke, right? You think I’m some kinda half-wit?”
“I figure you’ve got enough rattling around in there to know when someone’s offering you the only prayer you have of ever seeing daylight. Gunderson’s underground and I’ll bet dollars to donuts you know where to find him. Help me out and I’ll talk to the AG’s office. Who knows, they might even go for immunity.”
“Bullshit.”
“Is that yes or no?”
“It’s you’re outta your fuckin’ mind, is what it is. Where’s my lawyer?”
So that’s how it’s going to be, Donovan thought. A month and a half searching for this piece of shit and the wall immediately goes up.
“Don’t make a mistake here, Bobby.”
Nemo shook his head. “You’re the one making the mistake. Gunderson’s had a hard-on for your ass ever since you turned his bitch into creamed cabbage. You think I’m gonna get in the middle of that?”
“Beats the middle of a federal cellblock for the rest of your natural life.”
Nemo eyed him dully. “You’re so anxious to find him, why don’t you give Sara a jingle, see what she has to say?”
“Very funny, Bobby.”
Nemo shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to be a problem for Alex.”
Donovan just looked at him.
“You think I’m kidding? Guy thinks he can commune with the dead, for crissakes—and I guess creamed cabbage is close enough to qualify.”
“Uh-huh,” Donovan said. He’d heard
A big, badass bank robber with a ponytail.
Knowing he was now only feet away made Jessie sick to her stomach. A dozen different scenarios ran through her mind, none of which made any sense.
Why was he following her?
And what the hell did he want?
Sitting here wondering about it didn’t help. She had to do something and do it now.
One thing her dad had always drilled into her head, even when she was just a kid, was this: if you find yourself in a situation beyond your control, don’t be shy, do everything you can to regain that control—immediately.
And that’s what she intended to do.
Without even thinking about it, Jessie tossed her backpack off her lap and shot up from her seat.
Laura looked up in surprise. “Jess? What’s wrong?”
Jessie didn’t look at her. Her eyes were on the bus driver.
“Stop!” she shouted. “Stop the bus!”
13
I NTERROGATION ROOM 3 wasn’t much more than a table, two chairs, and four blank walls that always felt as if they were closing in on you. Whether they had an effect on Bobby Nemo was anybody’s guess.
Jack Donovan dropped a tagged and bagged submachine gun to the tabletop. An H&K MP5. Unlicensed. Fully automatic. They’d found it under Carla Devito’s bed—part of a shipment they’d been tracing for months. They’d also found something in Carla’s bathroom, something distinctly incriminating, but Donovan was keeping it under wraps for the time being. Saving it for leverage.
“Here’s how it plays, Bobby. Just on the HK alone, you’re looking at five in the bucket. Throw in Northland First and Trust and a handful of dead cops, and we’re talking some very serious sphincter time.”
Nemo sat in one of the aluminum and vinyl chairs, his shackled hands in his lap. He eyeballed Donovan, but said nothing.
Donovan grabbed his own chair, straddled it. “You hearing me, Bobby? Multiple counts means consecutive sentences, my friend, so you can kiss off any hopes of an early release.”
Nemo remained silent.
“I’d be happy to show you the guidelines.”
“Fuck the guidelines. What are you selling?”
“I think you know.” Donovan pulled a manila file folder from under his arm, flipped it open, and slid it across the table. Inside was a Most Wanted flyer featuring a grainy black-and-white photo of Alexander Gunderson.
Nemo snorted. “This is a joke, right? You think I’m some kinda half-wit?”
“I figure you’ve got enough rattling around in there to know when someone’s offering you the only prayer you have of ever seeing daylight. Gunderson’s underground and I’ll bet dollars to donuts you know where to find him. Help me out and I’ll talk to the AG’s office. Who knows, they might even go for immunity.”
“Bullshit.”
“Is that yes or no?”
“It’s you’re outta your fuckin’ mind, is what it is. Where’s my lawyer?”
So that’s how it’s going to be, Donovan thought. A month and a half searching for this piece of shit and the wall immediately goes up.
“Don’t make a mistake here, Bobby.”
Nemo shook his head. “You’re the one making the mistake. Gunderson’s had a hard-on for your ass ever since you turned his bitch into creamed cabbage. You think I’m gonna get in the middle of that?”
“Beats the middle of a federal cellblock for the rest of your natural life.”
Nemo eyed him dully. “You’re so anxious to find him, why don’t you give Sara a jingle, see what she has to say?”
“Very funny, Bobby.”
Nemo shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to be a problem for Alex.”
Donovan just looked at him.
“You think I’m kidding? Guy thinks he can commune with the dead, for crissakes—and I guess creamed cabbage is close enough to qualify.”
“Uh-huh,” Donovan said. He’d heard
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