The Devil's Elixir Read Online Free PDF Page B

playful sultriness I remembered.
    “I’m out,” I told her. “Just running some errands. What’s going on?”
    “You’re in New York?”
    “Yes. Meesh, what’s up? Where are you?”
    I heard a sigh—more of an angry grumble, really, as I knew full well that Michelle Martinez was not one to sigh—then she came back.
    “I’m in San Diego and I’m—I’m in trouble. Something terrible has happened, Sean. Some guys came to the house and they shot my boyfriend,” she said, the words bursting out and stumbling out of her. “I barely got away and—Christ, I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but I just didn’t know who else to call. I’m sorry.”
    My pulse bolted. “No, no, you did the right thing, it’s good you called. You okay? Are you hurt?”
    “No, I’m all right.” She took another deep breath, like she was calming herself. I’d never heard her like this. She’d always been clear-headed, steel-nerved, unshakeable. This was new territory. Then she said, “Hang on,” and I heard some fumbling, like she was moving the phone away from her mouth and holding it against her clothing. I heard her say, “Sit tight, okay, baby? I’ll be right outside,” heard the car door click open and slam shut, then her voice came back, less frantic than before, but still intense.
    “Some guys showed up. I was home—we were all home. There were four, five of them, I’m not sure. White van, coveralls, like painters or something. So they wouldn’t raise eyebrows with the neighbors, I guess. They were pros, Sean. No question. Face masks, Glocks, suppressors. Zero hesitation.”
    My pulse hit a higher gear. “Jesus, Meesh.”
    Her voice broke, almost imperceptibly, but it was there. “Tom—my boyfriend—if he hadn’t . . .” Her voice trailed off for a moment, then came back with a pained resolve. “Doorbell goes, he gets it. They cut him down the second he opened the door. I’m sure of it. I heard two silenced snaps and a big thump when he hit the ground, then they charged into the house and I just freaked. I got one of them in the neck and I just ran. I grabbed Alex and—the garage has a door that leads out into the backyard, and—I got the hell out of there.” She let out a ragged sigh. “I just left him there, Sean. Maybe he was hurt, maybe I could’ve helped him, but I just ran. I just left him there and ran.”
    She was really hurting over that, and I had to move her away from that remorse. “Sounds to me like you didn’t have a choice, Meesh. You did the right thing.” My mind was struggling to process everything she’d said while stumbling over the canyon-size gaps in the overall picture. “Did you call the cops?”
    “I called nine-one-one. Gave them the address, said there was a shooting, and hung up.”
    Then I remembered something she’d just said. “You said you grabbed Alex. Who’s Alex?”
    “My son. My four-year-old boy.”
    I heard her hesitate for a moment, I could picture her weighing her next words, then her voice came back and hit me with a three-thousand-mile knockout punch.
    “Our boy, Sean. He’s our son.”

3

    O ur son ?
    Two small words were all it took to turn the holes I was sidestepping into a huge, gaping chasm that just sucked me in.
    I felt my mouth dry up, felt a torrent of blood surge into my skull, felt my chest coil up.
    “Our son?”
    “Yes.”
    Everything around me disappeared. The cars and strollers gliding past in the sweltering heat, the mundane bustle and din of a suburban shopping strip on a sunny Saturday morning—it all just died out, like some big cone of silence had dropped out of the sky and cut me off from the rest of the world.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You, me. Down in Mexico. Things happened. What, you forgot already?”
    “No, of course not, but . . . You’re sure?”
    Now I was the one in shock and fumbling around for words, my mouth buying time, waiting for my brain to catch up. It was a dumb thing to say, and I