The Stranger You Know Read Online Free PDF Page A

fine with him. After all, Tim was the one who took the risk and delivered the information. Bob didn’t know the name of the prisoner who received it. And he didn’t want to know. He had a creepy feeling that the guy pulling the strings was one scary felon.
    Tim was thinking much the same thing as he approached Glen Fisher’s cell that afternoon. He glanced inside, caught a glimpse of Fisher lying on his cot and found his gaze drawn to the sketch the inmate was working on. The minute he saw it, he flinched, wishing he’d never looked. The perverse drawing was like all the others. It depicted the figure of a woman sprawled on the ground, covered by more slashing strokes of bright red than his stomach could take. The guy was a psycho. Tim didn’t doubt it for a minute. He not only saw it in his drawings, he felt it every time Fisher stared him down, emotionlessly reiterating what was expected of him. The look in Fisher’s eyes was terrifying—empty as death. With his usual sense of dread, Tim did what he had to, comforting himself with the fact that this nutcase was never getting out of here and could therefore do nothing with the information he was given but indulge his sick fantasies. At least that was what Tim prayed.
    “Hey,” he said quietly, standing close to the cell.
    Fisher rolled over and rose from his cot, putting down his drawing materials and walking over to face Tim through the iron bars.
    “What do you have for me?” he asked—a demand, not a question.
    “The Stevens girl’s file is being dug up from the Twenty-sixth Precinct’s cold cases and sent to Forensic Instincts,” Tim reported in a low tone. “It might take a little time, since the crime happened fifteen years ago. In the meantime, Casey Woods talked to Olson again last night. From what I’m hearing, she’s definitely looking for some kind of connection between the past and the present.”
    “Good. That’ll keep her busy. What about the cops?”
    Tim shook his head. “There’s no buzz at the Twenty-sixth Precinct about any connections to recent crimes. The same goes for the Ninth,” he added, referring to the precinct that had jurisdiction over Tompkins Square—the district where Fisher had been set up and arrested.
    “So Casey Woods is spinning her wheels.” Fisher shrugged. “Just as well. It’ll kill time. And make things interesting...”
    He didn’t elaborate. And Tim didn’t ask.
    Fisher continued to study him with that lethal stare. “I hear that things are going well for you. If that Lacy of yours keeps scoring goals like she did at last night’s soccer game, you can spend my money on a nice vacation for you and the missus, because you won’t need it for college. And Sarah? Between her GPA and that gorgeous red hair I keep hearing about, she’s got an equally bright future. Incredible daughters you’ve got. Pretty, too. You should be very proud—and very careful. It’s a scary world out there.”
    Tim’s fingers curled so tightly around the cell bars that his knuckles turned white. He wished he could choke the life out of Fisher.
    “Calm down,” Fisher said, his lips curving a bit at Tim’s reaction. “You already have high blood pressure. You don’t want to make it worse. Besides, not to worry. You’re doing your job. I’ve already arranged to have a payment wired to your bank account tomorrow.” A long, drawn-out pause. “But we’re just getting started. I want you to keep on this every waking minute.”
    Tim said nothing. He just turned and walked away.
    He might be protecting his family.
    But he had a sick feeling that he was digging himself an early grave.

Chapter Four
     
    Daniel Olson’s house was a typical home in the Bensonhurst section of Brooklyn. A two-story Cape Cod on a quiet side street, it sat on a small parcel of land between two similar houses, and had a tiny front lawn and a stone pavement leading to the front door.
    Olson opened the door himself when Casey, Claire and Hero