Read Online The Sleepless by Graham Masterton - Free Book Online Page B

hammered together. He could also remember his father sitting on a wooden box in their empty living-room, drawn and grey, while the removal men took away the last of their furniture. He had stood beside his father and laid his hand on his shoulder and said, ‘The bank would’ve helped you; you know that.’ 
    But his father had simply patted his hand and said, ‘You think I want to be owned body and soul by some fucking banker? Nobody owns my body and soul but me.’ 
    Michael had inherited much of that same self-destructive cussedness: that feeling that if you couldn’t make it on your own, you were somehow less of a man. 
    He was still thinking about his father and watching the surfline when the telephone rang. He picked it up immediately, in case it woke Patsy or Jason. 
    ‘Michael?’ 
    ‘Who is it?’ 
    ‘Michael, it’s Joe. Did I wake you?’ 
    ‘No, no. I wasn’t asleep.’ 
    ‘Listen ... I’m sorry to call you so late. Or maybe I’m sorry to call you so early, I’m not sure which. But I’ve just had a fax authorizing me to tell you everything we know about the O’Brien crash. It isn’t much, but I think it’ll give you some food for thought.’ 
    Michael tiredly pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. ‘Joe ... I’ve talked this over with Patsy, and the answer is still no.’ 
    ‘Let me just tell you what we found out.’ 
    ‘I’m not interested. I don’t want to know.’ 
    ‘But this is 24-carat, I promise you. It came straight from Roger Bannerman, of Boston Life & Trust. He and Edgar play golf together.’ 
    ‘I don’t care if they take showers together. The answer is still no.’ 
    There was a lengthy pause. Michael was beginning to feel cold, and wished he were back in bed. But he could still hear Joe breathing on the other end of the line, and it was like the steady breathing of Nemesis, the chilly respiration of relentless fate. He knew that Joe was going to tell him what Edgar had found out; and he also knew that he was going to listen. He knew, too, that it would probably convince him to give up his wayward life here in New Seabury, and go back to face the nightmarish consequences of Rocky Woods. 
    ‘John O’Brien’s daughter was missing,’ said Joe. 
    ‘What?’ said Michael. 
    ‘John O’Brien’s fourteen-year-old daughter Cecilia ... she was travelling with her parents to Washington, DC, for the swearing-in ceremony. They found her purse on the helicopter, and they found her luggage. Strangely, they also found her shoes, under her seat. But of Cecilia herself, there was no trace at all.’ 
    Michael said, ‘I thought the coroner’s office told you that physical trauma was so severe that they couldn’t even tell how many cadavers they were dealing with.’ 
    ‘That’s what they said. But they’ve been playing for time. The actuality was somewhat different.’ 
    ‘How did Roger Bannerman find that out?’ 
    ‘Easy. Mrs Bannerman is a volunteer emergency medical technician. She attended the crash scene herself.’ 
    ‘And she was sure that the girl wasn’t there? She wasn’t thrown clear, or anything like that?’ 
    ‘She must have been sure or else she wouldn’t have told her husband.’ 
    ‘All the same, the second-hand opinion of a volunteer EMT isn’t exactly evidence.’ 
    ‘I didn’t say anything about it being evidence,’ Joe replied. ‘What I did say was that it’s food for thought.’ 
    Michael hesitated, shivered. Dawn was well advanced now, and he could see the horizon, slate grey sea against lighter grey sky. Out toward Nantucket Island, it looked as if it were raining. ‘What else do you know?’ he asked. 
    ‘That’s it. The helicopter crashed, and person or persons unknown were seen removing something from the wreck. Subsequently, when the rescue squad arrived, there was no trace of Cecilia O’Brien – even though it was known for certain that she was accompanying her parents.’ 
    ‘I still don’t