Read Online Return (Matt Turner Series Book 3) by Michael Siemsen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Siemsen
Tags: Paranormal Suspense, sci fi adventure, The Opal, Psychic Mystery, The Dig, Matt Turner Series, archaeology thriller
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“I’m afraid that’s not all,” Markus interrupted. He sounded even more self-satisfied. “They’ve been translated, but the code is the problem. There are … contextual issues. I’m afraid we’re at a standstill without your help. Now, as I mentioned, Mr. Ostrovsky is prepared to offer multiple forms of compensation.” Markus paused. Matt said nothing. “Shall I proceed?”
Matt remained silent as he counted down from thirty, though he was more than a little curious about these “multiple forms of compensation” or “imbursements.” Ostrovsky must’ve known that money wasn’t a driving motivator for Matt these days. Hopefully, some creative threat wasn’t part of their plan to compel him.
…three … two … one…
Matt inhaled deep, exhaled into the mic, and said, “Go ahead.”
* * *
Iris and Joss had just sat down at the small kitchen table, take-out Cuban food arranged on their plates almost identically. Matt moseyed back into the room, his stride a bit off, his expression too cool. Iris saw through it in an instant. Big things were rattling around in that head.
“What’s up?” Iris asked, predicting his response.
“Oh, nothing. How’s the food?”
Denial and redirection. Typical plotting Matt.
Iris touched Joss’s arm. “Look at my brother right now,” she said, and Joss frowned, confused, before turning to observe Matt. Iris went on, “That’s his secret face. Call him on it when you see it.”
Matt harrumphed and served himself dinner. “Look at my sister. That’s her intrusive face.”
Iris persisted. It usually required three attempts to make him talk. “Who was that on the phone?”
“I’m going to Ukraine. I’ll be back in a couple days.”
Two attempts, Iris observed. Vitaliy Ostrovsky. The Ukrainian billionaire.
“Is it-?”
“Don’t try to talk me out of it. It’s happening. This is my resolute face, if you recall.” He smiled, and pinched one of Iris’s shoulders as he sat down at the table. They’d discuss it later, after Joss was gone. He was irritated, but keeping it jovial for the sake of their guest.
Iris caught Joss’s averted eyes. She wore the perfect Mom and Dad are fighting again expression—clearly seeing through the feigned light banter.
Joss said, “Sooo …” to fill the air.
Matt swallowed a bite and set down his fork. “Sorry. Let’s talk about the work—our mission here at Subzero Ventures.”
“Get it?” Iris asked Joss, receiving only puzzlement in return. “The name? My idea. Get it? Cold cases?”
Joss nodded, enthusiastic. “Oh, nice. Very clever.”
“I.T.’s been congratulating herself on that for two years,” Matt said. “Moving on …”
* * *
In the living room, as 11:00pm approached, Matt and Iris were still sharing stories about missing persons cases they’d investigated. Matt’s clinical approach to this subject wasn’t fooling Joss any more than his earlier attempt. Pain wilted his face the longer they spoke, aging him another ten years in a mere two hours. Only a small fraction of their cases could be closed with what anyone would consider a happy ending, but Joss didn’t sense that he planned to quit anytime soon. No, this was simply his cross to bear.
As their stories went on, Joss felt no less appreciation for the uncanny nature of her situation. She was in the home of the Matthew Turner, had earlier shared a bottle of wine with the man’s sister, and for the past couple hours had sat listening to firsthand accounts of their amazing work.
A newborn taken from a hospital’s maternity ward, now seventeen, reunited with his birth parents. An elusive serial killer of runaways caught and imprisoned. The six-year-old girl taken by her mother’s dangerous ex-boyfriend, safely recovered, two states over. Matt’s initially rocky relationships with local law enforcement, the Department of Justice, and the FBI had reached a stable, professional groove, and those few individuals
“I’m afraid that’s not all,” Markus interrupted. He sounded even more self-satisfied. “They’ve been translated, but the code is the problem. There are … contextual issues. I’m afraid we’re at a standstill without your help. Now, as I mentioned, Mr. Ostrovsky is prepared to offer multiple forms of compensation.” Markus paused. Matt said nothing. “Shall I proceed?”
Matt remained silent as he counted down from thirty, though he was more than a little curious about these “multiple forms of compensation” or “imbursements.” Ostrovsky must’ve known that money wasn’t a driving motivator for Matt these days. Hopefully, some creative threat wasn’t part of their plan to compel him.
…three … two … one…
Matt inhaled deep, exhaled into the mic, and said, “Go ahead.”
* * *
Iris and Joss had just sat down at the small kitchen table, take-out Cuban food arranged on their plates almost identically. Matt moseyed back into the room, his stride a bit off, his expression too cool. Iris saw through it in an instant. Big things were rattling around in that head.
“What’s up?” Iris asked, predicting his response.
“Oh, nothing. How’s the food?”
Denial and redirection. Typical plotting Matt.
Iris touched Joss’s arm. “Look at my brother right now,” she said, and Joss frowned, confused, before turning to observe Matt. Iris went on, “That’s his secret face. Call him on it when you see it.”
Matt harrumphed and served himself dinner. “Look at my sister. That’s her intrusive face.”
Iris persisted. It usually required three attempts to make him talk. “Who was that on the phone?”
“I’m going to Ukraine. I’ll be back in a couple days.”
Two attempts, Iris observed. Vitaliy Ostrovsky. The Ukrainian billionaire.
“Is it-?”
“Don’t try to talk me out of it. It’s happening. This is my resolute face, if you recall.” He smiled, and pinched one of Iris’s shoulders as he sat down at the table. They’d discuss it later, after Joss was gone. He was irritated, but keeping it jovial for the sake of their guest.
Iris caught Joss’s averted eyes. She wore the perfect Mom and Dad are fighting again expression—clearly seeing through the feigned light banter.
Joss said, “Sooo …” to fill the air.
Matt swallowed a bite and set down his fork. “Sorry. Let’s talk about the work—our mission here at Subzero Ventures.”
“Get it?” Iris asked Joss, receiving only puzzlement in return. “The name? My idea. Get it? Cold cases?”
Joss nodded, enthusiastic. “Oh, nice. Very clever.”
“I.T.’s been congratulating herself on that for two years,” Matt said. “Moving on …”
* * *
In the living room, as 11:00pm approached, Matt and Iris were still sharing stories about missing persons cases they’d investigated. Matt’s clinical approach to this subject wasn’t fooling Joss any more than his earlier attempt. Pain wilted his face the longer they spoke, aging him another ten years in a mere two hours. Only a small fraction of their cases could be closed with what anyone would consider a happy ending, but Joss didn’t sense that he planned to quit anytime soon. No, this was simply his cross to bear.
As their stories went on, Joss felt no less appreciation for the uncanny nature of her situation. She was in the home of the Matthew Turner, had earlier shared a bottle of wine with the man’s sister, and for the past couple hours had sat listening to firsthand accounts of their amazing work.
A newborn taken from a hospital’s maternity ward, now seventeen, reunited with his birth parents. An elusive serial killer of runaways caught and imprisoned. The six-year-old girl taken by her mother’s dangerous ex-boyfriend, safely recovered, two states over. Matt’s initially rocky relationships with local law enforcement, the Department of Justice, and the FBI had reached a stable, professional groove, and those few individuals
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