Psychopath Read Online Free PDF Page A

him."
    Jonah looked into Jenkins’s amber eyes, the whites gleaming beside her lustrous hair.  The crescent contour of her eyes and the way they sat at a subtle angle above her cheekbones suggested she might be part Asian, as did her tawny skin and long, graceful neck.  When she smiled, dimples appeared in her cheeks, making her an accessible, rather than untouchable, beauty.  "What were they?" Jonah asked.
    "Excuse me?" Jenkins said.
    "The words," Jonah said.  "What ten words has the boy spoken?"
    Jenkins smiled.  "I didn’t think to ask.  I should have."
    Ellison chuckled.  "Michelle Jenkins, meet Jonah Wrens, the doctor I told you about from Medflex."
    "I thought so," Jenkins said, extending her hand.  "My savior."
    Jonah took her hand.  It was soft and delicate, with long, graceful fingers — a hand to rival his own. He noticed she wore a four-or five-carat diamond engagement ring on her middle finger.  She probably hadn’t had time to have the ring sized since her engagement.  Or maybe she wasn’t engaged at all, and the ring was an heirloom given her by her adoring grandmother.  "Savior may be going a bit far," Jonah said.
    "You aren’t the one who’s been taking call every other night for seven months," she said, tilting her head in a feminine and wonderful way.  She let go of his hand.  "Every third is going to feel like heaven." She looked at Ellison.  "You’ve worn me out."
    "Never know it, looking at you," Ellison said, with a slight bow.
    "Time you get your lenses checked," Jenkins said.  She glanced over Ellison’s shoulder.  "Paul’s here."
    Jonah turned and saw a man in a dark blue blazer and wrinkled khakis heading over.
    "Paul Plotnik," Ellison said.  "The third musketeer."
    Plotnik, a wiry man of about fifty-five, with sparse, unruly hair and narrow, sloped shoulders, joined the group.  The sleeves of his blue blazer were a bit short.  His khakis were stained above his left knee.  "Got a tough one for you today," he said to Ellison, with a slight lisp.  His eyes darted to Jonah, then to Jenkins, then back to Ellison.  "Ten years old, nearly mute.  He hardly moves.  Hearing voices, I’d guess.  Maybe seeing visions."
    "Tell it to Dr. Jonah Wrens, from Medflex," Ellison said, nodding toward Jonah.  "I’ve asked him to sit in for me today."
    "Wonderful," Ellison said.  He shook Jonah’s hand — too hard.  "I’ve heard a lot about you.  When did you arrive?"
    "Just today," Jonah said.  "That’s quite a handshake."  He noticed that the left side of Plotnik’s face drooped slightly.  He’d had a minor stroke.  That explained his lisp.
    "Been told that.  Been told that," Plotnik said, finally letting go.
    "Dr. Ellison’s putting you right to work," Jenkins said to Jonah.  "Trial by fire."
    "I don’t mind," Jonah told her.  He held her gaze.  Or was she holding his?  "Rescue me if you see me going down in flames."  He listened to his own words as he spoke them, heard how they married nurturance, sexual passion, and danger.  Rescue me.  Going down.  Flames .  He hadn’t planned to deliver such a potent message.
    "I will," Jenkins said, a whisper of seduction in her voice.
    Ellison raised an eyebrow.
    "Well, then, why don’t we get started?" Plotnik said, smiling a nervous smile.  "See what twenty grand a month buys these days."
    Jonah laughed.
    "Paul, that’s inappropriate," Ellison said.
    "A joke," Plotnik said, holding both his hands in the air.  "A joke.  Nothing more."
    "No offense taken," Jonah said.
    "Dr. Ellison didn’t spill the beans," Plotnik said to Jonah.  "He’s as tight-lipped as they come.  I once looked into working for Medflex.  I’ve kept my eye on what they pay."
    "You decided to sit tight," Jonah said.
    "Craig offered me twenty-two a month," Plotnik said, erupting into laughter.
    "When hell freezes over," Jenkins said.
    "Why don’t we get started," Ellison said.
    "Seriously though," Plotnik said to Jonah.  "No one’s