Kill Her Again (A Thriller) Read Online Free PDF Page A

school–basketball tall. “Let me explain something to you, Daniel. I come from a long line of God-fearing, gun-loving homophobes. Now, personally, I’m a little more progressive in my thinking. I don’t have an ax to grind when it comes to people’s choice of bed partners. You’re a guy, you want to bag another guy, shit, you want to bag a gerbil, that’s your choice. Whatever you do in the privacy of your home is your own business. But do me a favor and make sure it stays that way. I’ve got no interest in you unless you’re a big-titted blonde with no sudden surprises dangling between your legs.”
    He moved toward Pope now. “So when I find out this Nigel Fromme guy was a full-on flamer, you can understand my concern.”
    “Not really, no.”
    Troy sighed. “If I believe all this stuff you’ve fed me about past lives—”
    “ I’ve fed you ?”
    “—then I have to believe that my soul once occupied Nigel Fromme’s body, right?”
    Pope shrugged. “That’s the theory.”
    There had long been a debate in the hypnosis community over past life regression therapy. Was it real, or was it, as Pope’s grandfather, an old jazz musician, used to say, pure bushwa?
    A lot of people in the field believed that even simple childhood regression therapy was bullshit. Nothing more than a combination of recall and imagination. But, to Pope’s mind, that didn’t necessarily negate its usefulness as a therapy. Recall and imagination could reveal quite a bit about a person.
    For the record, however, it was Troy who had originally brought up the subject of reincarnation, after reading an article about it online. Pope’s own feelings about the matter remained noncommittal. He didn’t really give a damn.
    “So if this Nigel guy liked to bat for the home team,” Troy was saying, “then my soul was batting right along with him. The same soul that occupies my body, right here, right now.”
    Pope said nothing. Figured it was better to let that one go.
    “In other words, you’re telling me I’m a fag.”
    Pope stared at him, wondering if this was a joke of some kind. Troy having fun. Was Sharkey standing behind the door to the kitchen, laughing his ass off at Pope’s expense?
    He didn’t think so.
    Troy wasn’t the kind of guy who joked around. And computer geek or not, the man was unpredictable when he got angry.
    “I’m not telling you anything,” Pope said. “That’s not how it works.”
    “Oh? Then how does it work? Because the way I see it, either I’m a fag or you made a mistake. Which is it?”
    There was a sudden chill in the room. Real or imagined, Pope couldn’t be sure. Feeling a presence behind him, he turned to find Arturo standing quietly in the doorway.
    Not a good sign.
    What had begun as an off-the-cuff, semi-stoned conversation during a late-night poker game had turned into an impromptu, after-hours hypnosis session that had now somehow morphed into a deeply offended and lethally angry Anderson Troy. And the only one Troy could find to blame for the insult was the messenger. The hypnotist. The guy who had put him under.
    That, of course, would be Pope. Star of the Desert Oasis Hotel-Casino’s ever popular late-night lounge show, Metamorphosis . Twenty bucks and a drink. Discount coupons in the hotel lobby.
    “You know,” Pope said, offering Troy his million-dollar stage smile, thinking he needed his glittery black tux to make it official, “this isn’t an exact science. Maybe I did something wrong, got some wires crossed somehow. If you like, we can try again, see what happens.”
    Troy nodded to Arturo, who quietly returned the nod and left the room.
    “I’m glad you see it that way, Daniel. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to replace this carpet again.”
     

5
     
    T HE BOY COULDN’T remember any of it.
    After Anna identified herself as FBI, the owner of the junkyard stowed his shotgun and muzzled his German shepherd, letting Anna pull Evan out of his hiding place and carry him