The Angel Maker - 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

no one knows they're gone."
    "Don't do this to me."
    "To you? This isn't about you.- She ran her red nail down the spine of each folder. "This is about Glenda Sherman, Peter Blumenthal and Julia Walker."
    He reached for the first folder, but stopped himself once again.
    She said, "How do you prove something like this? He's counting on that-whoever is doing this. He's counting on our paying no attention. These kids are as good as John Does to us. They're nobodies."
    "I want to help, to do what I can, but it's not easy. There are a lot of forces at play here. Even if I did reactivate, there's no saying I'd end up on this particular ticket."
    "I'm not buying that. The lieutenant would do anything to have you back. He'd meet any conditions you laid out. Scheduling, day care, anything. What's the latest with the IRS? I I "You don't miss a beat, do you?"
    The baby spit out the pacifier. Boldt caught it in a reflex only time or instinct had developed. She was in over her head.
    There were a lot of forces at play. He returned the pacifier to the waiting lips. He placed his huge hand on the boy's tiny head and encouraged him back to sleep. "You're a natural."
    "Cherish or perish."
    "Maybe you're right. Maybe you shouldn't read these files. I don't want to take you away from him."
    "Smooth. Very smooth."
    "I mean it."
    "I know you mean it. That's the problem." /'You didn't answer me-about the IRS? I I "We have to make an appointment. Liz and I. She's our accountant."
    "Is it a big deal?"
    "If it means more money, yes, it's a big deal. Liz had a horrible delivery ..

    "Yes, I heard."
    "It ran into some serious money. Insurance companies are wonderful until you show them the bill. Anyway ... You want to remind me that I'm in a financial bind and that Liz and I could use a second income, that I could borrow from the credit union.
    I know what you're up to. Point taken. Okay?" He scrunched his nose. "Do you smell something?" He grabbed the bag and stood.
    "In a minute everyone in the library will smell it. My son and I are going to pay a little visit to the boy's room."
    "You read these," she persisted, "and you realize he's a surgeon. Has to be. That gives us a place to start." "A surgeon?" he asked, eyeing the folders.
    She reached over and hoisted the top folder. "Can you read and change diapers at the same time?"
    "Absolutely not."
    "Then let me," she said, motioning for the baby. "You won't like it. It's messy."
    "You read the files, I'll handle Mr. Miles."
    "You're a poet."
    She motioned again for the child. Boldt unfastened the carrier and passed his son to her, along with the bag. "Cloth diapers,"
    she noticed. "Classy."
    "Environmentally sound. That's Liz-ever the proper mother and citizen. "Read," she chided. She didn't want to hear about Liz.
    When she returned, wondering whether she could ever live with doing that several times a day, his face was buried in one of the files. The two others were spread open in front of him.
    Fast reader. Fast learner. Lou Boldt. "How sure are you about this?" he asked. Accepting Miles, he thanked her and attempted to return him to the carrier. Fully awake, the boy struggled to be free, tying up Boldt's hands and attention. "Cindy Chapman the woman who sought out The Shelter-is missing a kidney." She touched the files. "All three of these kids died from hemorrhaging associated with a," and she quoted," 'surgically absent' organ. Two kidneys: Walker and Sherman. Blumenthal was missing a lung. I think we may have a doctor selling stolen organs on the black market."
    "A black market for organs?"
    She fingered the photocopies in front of her. "Is it so impossible a thought? I have a half-dozen articles here: Wall Street Journal, New York Times, The New Yorker, Vanity Fair, fama, New England Journal of Medicine. In Third World countries, harvesting is an everyday occurrence. That's what it's called: organ harvesting. Nice ring to it, huh? Organized, well run. Quite the business. Fifteen thousand