Dead Run Read Online Free PDF Page A

just not the kind of guy who lies in the weeds with his fingers crossed," he went on. "I'll bet he's been on your doorstep every night since we got back from the Southwest, hasn't he? Hallo-ran could take a lesson from that guy."
    Annie drummed her rainbow nails on her desk, instantly capturing his attention. "For a man with no discernible love life, you're pretty free and easy with the sage advice."
    "What do you mean? I have several discernible love lives."
    "I'm talking about relationships where you actually know the other person's name. Come on, Grace. I told Sharon we'd pick her up by ten."
    The computer Grace was working on chimed, and she pulled the finished disk from its drive. "Okay, that's the last one."
    She patted Harley on the head as she passed his desk on the way to Roadrunner's bank of computers. He turned off the monitor before she got close enough to decipher the scrolling lines of code.
    "Something you don't want me to see?" she asked, a little amused.
    Roadrunner lifted one angular shoulder. "It's a surprise Harley and I are working on."
    "Really?"
    "Aw, shit." Harley came storming over. "You didn't let her see it, did you?"
    "No, I didn't let her see it. . . ."
    "See what?"
    Harley folded his arms over his chest and grinned at her. "Never you mind. Besides, if we told you, you'd be an accessory, and this has got to be the most illegal thing we've ever done."
    "I like the sound of that."
    "I went on the criminal justice board. Fifty, sixty years if we get caught."
    "And I like the sound of that," Annie drawled from the doorway.
    "You're going to call when you get there, right?" Roadrunner asked Grace.
    "Of course we will."
    "Because your cell phones probably won't work, you know. I checked it out. There are hardly any towers in northern Wisconsin."
    "Excuse me?" Annie sounded like a kid who'd just learned that Santa Claus wasn't real.
    Roadrunner sighed. "No cell towers, no cell coverage. Northern Wisconsin is pretty much a wasteland when it comes to telecommunication. You might not be able to call out until you get close to Green Bay."
    Annie looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "That is absolutely impossible. I called Paris from the top of the ski lift on Aspen Mountain last winter, and Aspen iswilderness."
    "Yeah, right," Harley scoffed. "That's why every friggin' couture house in the world has a shop there. Let me tell you, you haven't begun to see wilderness until you've been to northern Wisconsin."
    "Like you would know."
    "Well, as it happens, I do know. Drove an Ojibwa friend up to the Bad River Rez once. Saw nothing but black bear for about three hours straight, and not one of them was carrying a cell phone."
    "See?" Roadrunner said to Grace, his forehead wrinkled with worry. "You're going to be totally out of touch for a really long time."
    Grace smiled at him. Roadrunner somehow managed to be both the child and the fretting mother of the Monkeewrench crew. His outlook had always been dark, his general philosophy one of blanket pessimism. "It's only a six-hour drive, Roadrunner."
    "Yeah, well, a lot can happen in six hours. The car could blow up. You could hit a moose or have a blowout, and then veer off the road into a tree and lie there unconscious with all your arms and legs broken. . . ."
    Harley smacked him on the back of the head.
    Ten minutes later, Harley, Roadrunner, and Charlie stood at the end of the driveway like three abandoned puppies, watching Grace and Annie pull away in Grace's Range Rover.
    "We should have gone with them," Roadrunner said.
    Charlie whined his agreement.
    "No room in that puny little SUV for two big, strapping men like ourselves and three women with all their makeup. Annie took a frig-gin' trunk, can you believe that? For a weekend in Green Bay, where nobody ever wears anything except Packers sweatshirts."
    "We could have taken the RV. . .."
    "Damnit, Roadrunner, how many times do I have to tell you not to call it that' It's a luxury motor coach."
    "Whatever.