Buried-6 Read Online Free PDF Page A

unit,’ she continued. ‘So far this year I’ve been to China, Turkey, the Ukraine. It’s al business class, and we get the air miles.’
    Hol and sucked his teeth. ‘I went to Aberdeen to interview a rapist once . . .’
    Porter took a good look at a Jag that drove past, waited a minute or two after it had disappeared around a corner, before moving the Saab slowly forward and turning it on to the driveway.
    ‘This kind of case isn’t common, though, is it?’ Thorne asked. ‘Snatching civilians?’
    She shook her head. ‘You can get the family of a bank employee being held until the safe’s opened, but even that’s pretty rare. You might get one like this in Spain and Italy every so often, but it’s like rocking-horse shit here. Thank God.’
    ‘So why no ransom with Luke Mul en?’
    ‘I’ve no idea.’
    ‘I stil don’t see why it has to be a kidnap.’
    ‘It doesn’t. There are other possibilities.’
    ‘Like Luke going off voluntarily with the woman in the blue car?’
    ‘Or just running away,’ Porter said. ‘But parents never like to admit that their precious kid might do that.’
    Hol and released his seatbelt. ‘Like no parent ever thinks their kids are stupid, or ugly.’
    ‘You’ve got kids?’
    ‘I’ve got a little girl.’ Hol and grinned. ‘She’s gorgeous and very bright.’
    ‘Maybe this isn’t about money at al ,’ Thorne said.
    Porter appeared to think about it as she kil ed the engine. ‘It’s certainly . . . unusual.’
    ‘Who knows . . .’ – Thorne opened the door and swung his legs out, let out a groan of pain as he lifted himself upright – ‘if there had been a ransom demand, maybe the parents might have got on the phone a bit quicker.’

    Hol and got out and walked towards him, looking up at the detached, mock-Tudor house where Tony Mul en and his wife lived. ‘It’s a big place,’ he said.
    Porter locked the car and the three of them began moving together towards the front door. ‘It’s probably feeling that little bit bigger just at the moment,’ she said.
    A few minutes earlier, Thorne had seen the relief flood into Tony Mul en’s face, but it had been purely temporary. Already, sitting across from Thorne in an uncomfortable-looking armchair, a damp pal or of desperation was smearing itself back across his features; the look of a man bracing himself.
    He’d been at the front door before they were, staring out at the three of them as if he were urgently trying to read something in how they walked; to work out what they had come to tel him by the way they approached the house. Porter had shaken her head. A smal movement, but it had been enough.
    Mul en had let out a long breath and closed his eyes for a second or two. There was something approaching a smile when he opened them again, when he moved the hand that had been flat and white against the door frame and held it out, palm skyward, towards them.
    ‘Your guts just go into your boots,’ he said. ‘Whenever the phone goes or the bloody doorbel rings, especial y if it’s you lot. It’s like feeling the punch coming. You know?’
    The introductions were made there on the doorstep.
    ‘Trevor Jesmond said he’d sort out a few extra pairs of hands,’ Mul en said. He touched Thorne’s arm. ‘Make sure you say “thanks” to him, wil you?’
    Thorne wondered if Jesmond had told Mul en what he real y thought about the man those extra hands belonged to. If he had, Thorne guessed it was probably a less than honest assessment. If the request for help had come directly from Mul en himself, Jesmond would hardly want his old friend thinking he was palming him off with damaged goods. Thorne decided it was a subject best left alone; that he should keep things light for as long as it was appropriate.
    He looked at Mul en. The man had less grey in his hair than Thorne himself did, and, though the circumstances had clearly taken their tol , the rest of him looked in pretty good shape, too. ‘Wel , either