Last Call - A Thriller (Jacqueline "Jack" Daniels Mysteries Book 10) Read Online Free PDF

remember the last time I was here. I only blow through town every few months.”
    “And that’s how far along she is. Bottom line; we want three hundred bucks to make this right.”
    “Bullshit!” Donaldson began to laugh. “You shooting up what you’ve been pushing, Winston? I’m not paying to fix your whore’s condition. It’s an occupational hazard.”
    She took a step back from the door. Through the receding heroin fog, she reached down, put her hands on her belly, realizing for the first time:
it’s a bump.
A small one, to be sure, but a bump nonetheless. She’d noticed it last time she was in the shower, but had written it off as bloating.
    What if…
    “We’re all reasonable men,” Winston said. “We don’t want this to get ugly.”
    Donaldson’s voice got low. “You have no idea how ugly this can get.”
    “Is that how you want to play it, friend? Two against one? Is that risk worth a few hundred bucks to you?”
    “I came here to get laid, and I get a shake down. This how you treat all your longtime customers?”
    “We just want to make this right. And we’ll even throw in a freebie.”
    There was a long pause. “Fine. You want me to take care of this?”
    “That’s all we’re asking.”
    “I’ve got some equipment down in my trunk that should do it. I’ll be right back up. We’ll get this done right now.”
    “Hold up. You’re not qualified to do this.”
    “It ain’t rocket science. It’s just—”
    “We aren’t going to trust the well-being of our property to you and your toolbox.”
    Another pause.
    “Fine,” Donaldson said. “But if I’m paying, I should get to watch.”
    “You serious?” Ben asked.
    “It’s my baby. And I’ve never seen an abortion before. Could be fun.”
    “Deal.”
    She listened as footsteps trailed off down the hall, then went to the window. Outside, a curtain of snow descended on the city in a perpetual loop. The cars below were all frosted now, and the first snowplows had begun to make their rounds.
    She was still clutching her belly.
    A life was growing inside of her.
    A
life
was growing inside of her.
    It didn’t matter that half the DNA belonged to a monster.
    Half the DNA was hers.
    She was a mother. The tiny being growing inside her was her child.
    Her
family.
    Suddenly, she couldn’t see the snow anymore.
    The world was a blur through her tears.



JACK
Chicago
    T he earliest flight to Chicago I could get was a red-eye leaving at 10:15 P.M. , and it cost five times as much as I’d paid to come to Florida. The ridiculous amount I spent didn’t stop the plane from being delayed.
    I called my house for the eighth time that day. No answer. Called Phin. No answer. Called my house. No answer. Called Phin. No answer. Called my partner, Harry McGlade, to see if he knew anything and got his voicemail greeting.
    “This is Harry McGlade. I’m not picking up the phone because: A – I’m screening my calls and don’t want to talk to you, B – I’m engaged in a business transaction involving the exchange of sexual favors for money, or C – It’s after midnight and I chased a sleeping pill with four beers.”
    I left a message for him to call me. Then I tried Phin again.
    No answer.
    I got to O’Hare at a little after five in the morning, exhausted because I have a hard time sleeping in a bed let alone in the cattle call the airlines dub
coach
, then cabbed it to my house in Bensenville. My husband, and my dog, were gone.
    My cat was there, but didn’t seem happy to see me. I kept my distance.
    I immediately located the whereabouts of my dog, as Phin had left a note next to the phone with the number for the kennel he dropped him off at. But there was no evidence that pointed to where my husband had gone. He’d cleared his computer history. He’d erased the house security footage. I checked call logs to both his cell number, and the house, and the only numbers that came up were mine, and McGlade’s.
    We only had one car, which Phin