Gone, Baby, Gone Read Online Free PDF

the case yet?”
    Angie looked at me and rolled her eyes.
    “No,” I said, “but we’re close.”
    Doyle chuckled softly, his eyes on the patch of concrete and dead grass below the porch.
    Angie said, “We assume you advised the McCreadys not to contact us.”
    “Why would I do that?”
    “Same reason I would if I were in your position,” Angie said, as he turned his head to look at her. “Too many cooks.”
    Doyle nodded. “That’s part of it.”
    “What’s the other part?” I said.
    He laced his fingers together, then pushed the hands out until the knuckles cracked. “These people look like they’re rolling in dough? Like they got cigarette boats, diamond-studded candelabras I don’t know about?”
    “No.”
    “And ever since the Gerry Glynn thing, I hear you two charge pretty steep rates.”
    Angie nodded. “Pretty steep retainers, too.”
    Doyle gave her a small smile and turned back to the railing. He gripped it lightly with both hands and leaned back on his heels. “Time this little girl is found, Lionel and Beatrice could be a hundred grand in the hole. At least. They’re only the aunt and uncle, but they’ll buy spots on TV to find her, take out full-page ads in every national paper, plaster her picture on highway billboards, hire psychics, shamans, and PIs.” He looked back at us. “They’ll go broke. You know?”
    “Which is one of the reasons we’ve been trying not to take this case,” I said.
    “Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you here?”
    “Beatrice is persistent,” Angie said.
    He looked back at the kitchen window. “She is that, isn’t she?”
    “We’re a little confused why Amanda’s mother isn’t as well.”
    Doyle shrugged. “Last time I saw her, she was doped up on tranquilizers, Prozac, whatever they give the parents of missing kids these days.” He turned back from the railing, his hands out by his side. “Whatever. Lookit, I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with two people might help me find this kid. No shit. I just want to make sure that, A , you don’t get in my way; B , you don’t tell the press how you were brought on board because the police are such boneheads they couldn’t find water from a boat; or, C , you don’t exploit the worry of those people in there for money. Because I happen to like Lionel and Beatrice. They’re good people.”
    “What was B again?” I smiled.
    Angie said, “Lieutenant, as we said, we’re trying hard not to take this case. It’s doubtful we’ll be around long enough to get in your way.”
    He looked at her a long time with that hard, open gaze of his. “Then why are you standing on this porch talking to me?”
    “So far Beatrice refuses to take no for an answer.”
    “And you think that’s somehow going to change?” He smiled softly and shook his head.
    “We can hope,” I said.
    He nodded, then turned back to the railing. “Long time.”
    “What?” Angie said.
    His eyes remained on the backyard and the one just beyond it. “For a four-year-old to be missing.” He sighed. “Long time,” he repeated.
    “And you have no leads?” Angie asked.
    He shrugged. “Nothing I’d bet the house on.”
    “Anything you’d bet a second-rate condo on?” she said.
    He smiled again and shrugged.
    “I take that as a ‘not really,’” Angie said.
    He nodded. “Not really.” The dry paint sounded like brittle leaves under his clenched hands. “Tell you how I got into the kid-finding racket. ’Bout twenty years ago, my daughter, Shannon? She disappears. For one day.” He turned to us, held up his index finger. “Not even one day, really. Actually, it was from like four o’clock one afternoon till about eight the next morning, but she was six. And I’ll tell you, you have no clue how long a night can be until your child goes missing in one. The last time Shannon’s friends had seen her she was heading home on her bicycle, and a couple of them said they saw a car following her real