The 8th Circle Read Online Free PDF Page B

though he’d treated that kid of his like a retard.
    He’d seen that fucking Alex Burton. Goddamn bitch reporter. He’d like to wring her neck. Then to top it off, Danny Ryan showed up. If anyone deserved a run of bad luck, it was that sanctimonious prick. Teddy wasn’t sure what he hated more: the phony-defender-of-the-little-guy bullshit or the watch-out-for-the-political-weasel screeds Ryan used to write. He looked like hell now. He must’ve lost close to twenty pounds, and it wasn’t like he was a big guy to start. Maybe he’d lose so much weight, he’d just disappear.
    The valet delivered his Caddy, and Teddy got in. He wondered if the asshole expected a tip. Fuck him, if he did. Who tipped at a wake?
    He pulled around the circular drive toward the gates, and one of the pigeons took off. The bird flew low and swooped in right front of him. Teddy slammed his brakes.
    Goddamn birds. Teddy saw the valet smirking in his rearview mirror. He hit the gas pedal and roared out into the street.
    Teddy bounced over the cobblestones of Germantown Avenue, then cut back through Mt. Airy to get to Lincoln Drive. He loved the Drive, especially when there wasn’t much traffic, like this evening. It was like a giant serpent twisting and turning alongside Wissahickon Creek.
    Maybe he wouldn’t go home just yet. He could stop in town for a drink or two. His wife didn’t care. She had her career as Mrs. Congressman.
    He wanted to go to the club, but they’d cut him off from the special rooms since the incident with that kid. Assholes. As if they cared about a fifteen-year-old street whore.
    He was a sweet boy, though. Justin. The best he’d ever had.
    Red light.
    Whoa, he almost went right through the intersection. Brakes felt a little sluggish, or maybe he hadn’t been paying attention. Long day.
    A black Porsche pulled beside him, and Teddy was tempted to roll down his window to hear the low purr of its idling engine. Before the light changed, the driver glanced at him and grinned. He inclined his head and pointed forward, and the Porsche leaped ahead. Furious, Teddy pounded the accelerator.
    The speedometer inched up close to sixty. A little too fast, but he didn’t care as he flew past trees and houses. Still, the rear lights of the Porsche pushed farther ahead. Goddamn it. A warning light glowed on the control panel, but Teddy kept his eyes on the Porsche.
    The traffic light was changing from yellow to red, and Teddy floored the gas. The Caddy lifted slightly from the road. Damn, he was just like Steve McQueen in Bullitt . Too fucking cool.
    The road made a sharp curve to the right just before the Henry Avenue Bridge. Dammit, he forgot this curve. The Porsche slid through it easily, but something was wrong with his goddamn wheels. The back end spun out, and Teddy slammed the brakes. Nothing.
    The rear end smashed into the guardrail. Teddy cranked the wheel, and the car careened sideways and then went airborne, rolling down toward the creek. He could hear his father talking about the Romans and how they’d built arches. He could see Justin, that pretty young face, those wide, blue eyes. The kid could have been a model. He probably hadn’t even recognized Teddy; his mask had only slipped for a second and—Christ, he was going to die under the suicide bridge. Why?
    The Caddy slammed into the ground, and Teddy jolted forward. The air bags exploded into him, grainy particles swirling through the air.
    The car rocked back and forth on its roof.
    Engulfed in the airbags, Teddy couldn’t move, couldn’t see, but he was alive. He smelled gasoline and heard the rush of the water close by. It was going to be all right. He just had to get out of this crumpled mess of a car.
    Then he heard a soft whump, like a sack of flour being ripped apart.
    Shit.
    *
    The driver of the Porsche continued down the Lincoln Drive and then swung onto Ridge Avenue East and back up Midvale to park on the campus of Philadelphia University. He pulled