Spiderman 3 Read Online Free PDF

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    Marko hugged the shadows, not wanting to make the slightest move until he was certain the police car was long gone. Once he was satisfied that—for the moment—he was safe, he made his way over to a familiar fire escape. The ladder was above his reach. He glanced around and found a length of frayed, discarded rope nearby amidst the rest of the garbage in the alley. It wasn't much, but it would serve his purposes. He tied the end of the rope around the packet of letters, then tossed the letters upward. He missed the first time, but the second time, the packet swung up and over the lower rung and dropped halfway down again. Marko reached up, now able to grip both ends of the rope, and pulled down as hard as he could. The ladder resisted at first, then gave up and slid noisily down toward him.
    The racket caused Marko to step back into the shadows to wait for a reaction from anyone. But there was nothing. No response at all from any of the windows above. He supposed that shouldn't have been a surprise. This was New York, the city where, years ago, several buildings' worth of people had turned away and done nothing—not even call the cops—while a young woman was brutally murdered, screaming for help the entire time. If cries for succor weren't sufficient to get neighbors interested, certainly the creaking of a fire escape ladder wasn't going to prompt any involvement.
    He scrambled up the ladder like a monkey on a mission and, moments later, was clambering up the fire escape. He was doing so as quietly as he could; no use tempting fate by counting too heavily on the perceived apathy of New Yorkers.
    Marko drew close to a familiar window and briefly considered the possibility that the people supposedly living within had moved. Why not? He'd have no way of knowing. No one ever came to visit him in prison, and with his letters returned, who was to say that they weren't currently residing in New Jersey or Connecticut or Outer Mongolia. Peering into the darkened room, he saw someone asleep in the bed, and for a moment his worst fears were realized. It wasn't Penny. It couldn't be. Penny was much smaller than this child…
    But then he recognized the array of medicines upon her night table, and the snow globe he'd gotten her for her fifth birthday, and his concerns were eased. He even took a moment to appreciate the humor of the situation: that he had been thrown off by the simple fact that Penny had grown. Well, of course—he'd been in jail for eighteen months.
    Flint slid open the window and eased himself into the room. He almost tripped over a doll she'd left on the floor. Cautiously he picked it up, praying it wouldn't make any noise, and placed it on a chair. Marko moved like a thief in the night, except he was dropping off rather than taking away.
    It was a reckless indulgence, but he leaned down and kissed his sleeping daughter anyway on the top of her brunette head. She didn't stir. A bit more boldly, but still being careful, he eased the stack of letters under her pillow. There. That way Penny would be sure to see them in the morning, provided "other people" didn't stumble over them first.
    He paused by the snow globe and picked it up. He recalled when he'd first found it in a curio shop, with its tiny castle surrounded by swirling snow. He remembered imagining Penny's delighted reaction and hadn't been disappointed. She had clapped her hands with glee and thanked her father profusely. Even Emma had smiled, and that wasn't something she did easily in those days… and, admittedly, probably even less these days.
    Marko made his way carefully out into the living room. His old trunk was there, right where he'd left it. He opened it slowly so as not to cause the hinges to creak.
    Just as he'd figured: all his clothes had been stuffed into it. Emma had cleared out his closet and his drawers. He supposed that shouldn't have been too much of a surprise. Perhaps he should have been relieved she hadn't donated them all