The Car Bomb (The detroit im dying Trilogy, Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

that damn computer. Then you’d have time for some fun. The world is leaving you behind, Bobby boy.”
    Waving at Marci, the kid headed for the door. “Thanks for breakfast, Mom.”
    Frank tried to reel him back in. “Number one on the golf team this spring, and you quit. I hate to say I just see a quitter and a loser here.”
    Stopping in the doorway, Bobby said, “Yeah, you hate to say. And you say it all the time. Anyway, I didn’t quit. My grades weren’t good enough.”
    “ With your brain, it amounts to the same thing. The only way you could fail is on purpose. Out of spite.”
    “ Yeah, that’s it. I’m spiting you. Later, Mom.”
    She called, “Bobby?” And when he walked off, not answering, she turned to Frank. “Why do you do that? You know what Dr. Fine said about calling him names.”
    He kept his angry voice low: “Look, Fine’s had six months to show us something with this boy, and I’ve seen nothing. No improvement whatsoever. I try to reach out to him, ask him to play golf, something we always loved to do together when his brother was alive, and, no thanks, he’d rather sit in his damn room and do nothing.”
    She moved to the counter where she put two bran muffins on a plate. “You only ask when it’s convenient. You’ve got your cronies along today, and he doesn’t want to be around them.”
    “ No, he just locks me out.”
    “ Frank, do you realize…” She set the plate loudly in front of him. “…what it does to that boy to see something like that column in the paper today?”
    “ There’s not a damn thing I can do about that. The guy’s an asshole, and he’s going to write what he wants no matter what I do.”
    “ But you give him grist for his mill. It’s the way you choose to live, and it’s destructive to the people who are close to you and care about you. I know you think your daughter’s doing just fine, but she’s not. Jennie’s drinking too much and, I think she’s way too adventurous, let’s say, with way too many young men. She’s got real problems, Frank.”
    “ Oh, bullshit.” He caught the echo of his son’s earlier response.
    “ Your capacity for denial, Frank, is unbelievable.”
    “ Yeah, well, it doesn’t help these kids to hear you talk about divorce.”
    “ I never talk about it. In front of them.”
    “ Well, maybe just annulment.”
    She was up from the table. “Bobby brought that up. He’s only trying to protect me.”
    “ From what?”
    “ From you, Frank. I’m really beginning to think divorce is the only answer.”
    Trailing an angry exhaust, Marci stalked out. Frank shook his head, picked up a bran muffin, then dropped it back on the plate. With his coffee mug he headed for the kitchen’s back door, open on a large deck.
    Walking out, he moved past the expensive outdoor furniture to the far end of the deck. He stared at the quiet, sunny lake. A lone seagull rode the bow of the speedboat moored at their small dock.
    Often when feeling down, or maybe in the grasp of something robbing his control, he would craft a small game with fate. So, if the gull stayed in place for at least the next five seconds, everything would be okay. Starting his slow, even count, he got as far as three.

Chapter 12
    From the bench in his blond-paneled courtroom in the Frank Murphy Hall of Justice came the stern voice of Judge William O’Bryan.
    “ And it is the determination of this court that you be sentenced to...”
    A TV cameraman rolled on the proceedings from one corner. In front of Judge O’Bryan at the bench were the court reporter, her fingers flashing as she stabbed her machine, and the uniformed bailiff, a lean competent looking man with a large, irregular strawberry birthmark covering the left side of his face. Standing in front of them, the girlish prosecutor and the portly defense attorney, sporting red suspenders, were both looking at the defendant, a well-built young guy with the hint of a smile and his short-sleeves rolled up even