Mark of the Devil Read Online Free PDF

three days ahead of me in everything she does. But for the love of God, don’t tell her I said that. She’ll never let me live it down.”

    The mug of beer in Park’s hand moved with slow deliberateness to his mouth as he looked through a wide expanse of windows at boats passing on the muddy Intracoastal Waterway. With his chair kicked back against the wall, he asked, “After you spoke with Ashley, you said she might come down. When?”
    “First of next week, I hope,” Matt answered, a smile spreading across his face at the thought of his wife. “Soon as one of her people finishes a case up in Greenville and can get back to Charleston to mind the store. Her first vacation since we got married, if I can get her down here.”
    “Gotta be something else, having a private detective for a wife,” Park quipped, lowering the front legs of his chair to the floor. “Maybe she can figure out what the hell it is we found out there.”
    Matt held up his empty mug to the waitress, who nodded. She pointed at Park, her eyebrows knitted in a question mark. Seeing Park’s glass almost empty, Matt gave a thumbs-up in reply. At the same time, he said to Park, “You didn’t hear me. First vacation in four years. Fact, if we don’t put a label on whatever it is sticking up in front of that barge before she gets here, you’ll probably be doing it yourself if it’s done at all.”
    “You’d leave me for a woman? Your wife, no less. Damn it, man, where are your priorities?” Park joked.
    The waitress stopped at the side of the table. Across her formfitting T-shirt stamped in bold letters was “EDDIE’S FISH CAMP, PALM VALLEY, FLORIDA.”
    “Killian’s Red…” she said, clunking a mug of reddish, froth-covered beer in front of Matt, “…and Bud Light,” as she placed a similar mug in front of Park. The waitress hesitated a moment, hands on her hips, eyeing Matt, then Park, then back to Matt, before she asked, “You two brothers or somethin’?”
    “No,” Matt answered, a chuckle in his voice. “Just old friends. Why do you ask?”
    “’Cause you look alike. Same size, almost.” She surveyed them appreciatively. “Both got blond hair, good lookin’ in a…well, you know. Neither one of you look like Tom Cruise, or, you know, somebody like that, but better than the average guys we get in here for Friday afternoon happy hour.”
    “Well, thanks,” Matt said, a wide grin on his face. “And probably a helluva lot older than the average too.”
    “Yeah,” Park tossed in. “And with our magnetic personalities, you can—”
    “That’s it, Steve!”
    “What’s it?”
    “Magnetic,” Matt answered. “A magnetometer. Do a survey without disturbing the bottom or damaging anything, and we can do it without having to get Brandy’s or anybody else’s authorization.” Looking up at the waitress, he said, “If you hadn’t said all those kind words, deserved or not…”
    “Wha’d I say?” the waitress asked, a puzzled look on her face.
    “Just enough to make the old gray matter start working,” Matt said. “And while you’re at it, how about bringing us both a double order of fried shrimp, hushpuppies, and grits? We’ve got a lot of talking to do, and we can’t do it on empty stomachs.”
    As the waitress walked away, Park asked, “Magnetometer, huh?” He shrugged his shoulders and set his jaw in an I-should’ve-thought-of-that grimace.
    “Know where to get one without having to pay an arm and a leg?” Matt asked.
    “Maybe. Aqua Explorers, a salvage and raising company up in Fernandina Beach.”
    “Call ‘em. If we can get it tomorrow, I’ll run up and pick it up. Who do I charge it to?”
    “Not me,” Park answered. “And the Coast Guard’s not gonna pay for a magnetometer, not since we already found the barge.”
    “Then I’ll put it on my own account.” Gesturing over his shoulder toward the Atlantic some two miles to the east, Matt added, “And who knows? This could be the biggest