Flightfall Read Online Free

sharing that information with me. I’m dropping a hundred and fifty bucks a day on a beach condo I’m failing to enjoying at the moment—not to mention leaving a beautiful woman alone to cool her heels.”
    “Actually,” Toronto said. “I have more than one suspect.”
    “Beautiful,” I said.
    “There are two.”
    “I take it these are two people who have a reason to hate you,” Nicole said.
    Toronto shrugged. “You might say that.”
    “They might need to get in line,” I said.
    Nicole ignored me. “They must hate you enough, Jake,” she said. “To want to hurt you.”
    “Sound about right,” he said.
    “But you’re so tough they know they can’t get at you directly. And they might have been tempted to take it out on your falcon.”
    “Now you’re making sense. Did you know your daughter’s a genius, Frank?”
    “I think they call that displaced emotion,” I said.
    “Right. Thanks for the dissertation, Mr. Freud.”
    “Your bird didn’t kill somebody’s Chihuahua, I hope,” Nicole said.
    “Hardly. You’ve been reading too many of those tabloid websites. Anyway, those were wild hawks that did that in California.”
    “So how long are you going to keep us in suspense?” I asked.
    “Okay,” Toronto said. “Get your hard hats on.” He took the next left and pointed ahead to a wide ribbon of paved road that cut around the opposite side of the mountains from his own place. “We’re going to visit a school construction site.”

6
     
    The school under construction was in a field a few miles farther along the highway. Level land carried a premium price in Affalachia County, and the government controlled more than its fair share of it. The shell of the building had already been erected. Its skeletal structure resembled a flattened beehive surrounded by heavy equipment and a fleet of private cars and pickups. A couple of big cranes hovered overhead while dozens of workers moved in and out of the building.
    “The kid we’re looking for is named Gabriel Wylie—goes by Gabe,” Toronto said.
    “Kid?” I asked.
    “Sorry. He’s probably about Nicky’s age here.”
    “What’s his beef?”
    “He’s approached me a couple of times about my birds. Seems to think I shouldn’t have any. He lives in some kind of commune with a bunch of people who grow organic vegetables and make berry juice for a legitimate business while tending a clandestine crop of marijuana on the side. There aren’t a lot of secrets around here if you spend time getting to know people.”
    “What’s he doing working construction?”
    “Guess he doesn’t mind exploiting the environment when there’s a good paycheck involved. I hear he’s not a bad carpenter, either.”
    “But why shoot your falcon?” Nicole asked. “He sounds more like the type who wouldn’t want to hurt a bird.”
    “True. But he’s also the type who would sneak in and steal my extra tracking receiver. And I know he keeps a rifle. Maybe he was trying to scare Jazzy into flying off for good. Maybe he didn’t mean to shoot him.”
    I nodded. “Stranger things have happened.”
    The foreman didn’t know Toronto, but judging by the respectful nods in our direction, a number of the workers did. We found Gabriel Wylie helping a short Hispanic man carry a stack of boards. Wylie himself was about five foot eight. He had long brown hair, the lean body of a wrestler, and wary eyes.
    “Wylie.”
    The young man turned at the sound of Toronto’s voice. “What’re you doing here, Toronto?”
    “Wonder if we could speak with you for a minute.”
    His eyes bounced back and forth between Toronto, Nicole, and me. “What’s this about?”
    “Just want to ask you a couple of questions. That’s all.”
    Wylie turned to his companion and said under his breath in Spanish: “Ahora vengo. Necessito que fumo.”
    They set down the load of boards and the other man turned and walked away.
    “You smoke, too,” Toronto said.
    “What?” Apparently, Wylie