Shattered Read Online Free PDF Page A

straining a gear.”
    Guy grunted. “That I'll have to see. We're going to try to take it out this weekend if the weather holds.”
    “That water's like ice.”
    “I don't plan to spend much time in the water.” Guy sat down in a well-worn black leather chair and stretched out his legs. “Anything happen while I was gone?”
    “A woman walked into the Sun Coast bank in Appalach, put a package wrapped in birthday paper on the teller counter, and demanded fifty thousand in cash. She said the package was a bomb. The teller handed over the money and the woman departed, leaving the package on the counter. In the mad rush to evacuate the bank, the package got knocked off the counter and the lid fell off. There was a slip and pair of panties from J.C. Penney inside, no bomb. The perpetrator, meanwhile, got half a block down the street when the dye bomb went off. The police picked her up in the laundromat on West Main, trying to wash the red dye out of her purse. 'Woman caught laundering money'. What have you got?”
    “Three Thousand Spring Breakers Descending on St. T. and One Hundred Eighty Kilos of Coke Being Held Prisoner in the County Jail.You get all the good stories.”
    “That's why they made me publisher.”
    “Oh, and the county commission voted to move the Barbecue Cook-Off to the weekend after Memorial Day because the mayor's wife is having surgery in Tallahassee Memorial Day weekend.”
    “What's she having?”
    “Hysterectomy.”
    “Remind me to send flowers.”
    “You bet. Listen, it'll take me about twenty minutes to get this in the computer and then we'll start laying out the front page. What kind of art do you want to run with the headline?”
    “Well, I'd like to have a picture of you and me on Walt's new boat.”
    Guy grinned. “Second choice.”
    “Excuse me, Guy?” Rachel leaned around the edge of the doorframe. “That man is on the phone again. Do you want to talk to him?”
    “Who?”
    “The one who keeps calling and won't leave a message.”
    “Does he have a name?”
    “He just said to tell you he's an old friend. Do you want me to put him through?”
    Guy glanced at Ed inquiringly, and Ed made an acquiescent gesture with his hand. “Take it here. I think I left the art folder with Jacobson.”
    He left the office and when the call buzzed through, Guy picked up the phone. “Guy Dennison.”
    “Well now, you're a hard man to track down.”
    The voice on the other end was a low, smooth drawl, generally Southern in accent, not particularly educated, and completely unfamiliar to Guy.
    “Not usually.” Guy sat on the edge of Ed's desk and, with absent curiosity, turned his calendar around to read the notations there. Nothing interesting. “Who is this?”
    “Come on, now, Guy, you don't mean you've forgotten already. You're gonna hurt my feelings if you're not careful.”
    Guy said, “Listen, I'm pretty busy here, so if—”
    “Let's just say you did me a service, once upon a time,” said the man on the other end of the line. His voice turned harsh as he added, “And now, old buddy, it's payback time.”
    Guy's attention sharpened. “What are you talking about?”
    He answered smoothly, “So how's that pretty little wife of yours, Guy?”
    Something about the way he said that made the fine hairs on the back of Guy's neck prickle. He said, as casually as possible, “You know Carol?”
    “Carol, yes.” Too smooth, much too smooth. “She's a real looker, isn't she? And living up there in that great big house all by herself...”
    Ed came back into the office, art folder in hand. With an abrupt motion, Guy, gestured to him to close the door, saying into the phone at the same time, “Who is this?”
    The frown on Ed's face faded at the tightness of Guy's tone, and, after only a moment's hesitation, he closed the door. Guy pushed the speakerphone button and lowered the receiver gently back into the cradle.
    “—really don't know, do you?” The voice, amused and contemptuous,