Like Grownups Do Read Online Free Page A

took him as high as the number three man at the training academy at Quantico, and this assured him a constant position of power over Russell. Stemple retired a year before his mandatory age, stepping immediately into a position of lobbyist and consultant for a defense contractor—one that had a reputation for skirting the edges of ethical behavior. Stemple began drinking more and more, and continued to develop a circle of influence that included well-placed politicians, all of whom were throwbacks to an era dominated by powerful bullies.
     
    Russell Eckhart coped with his past the way he had learned from his mother—by trying to pretend that it never existed. The more time he spent away from his mother and step father, the more successful he became at his delusion.
    And then Research Consultants Incorporated happened.
    Jack Englemann.
    The one man that out-ranked him at the Boston Bureau.
     
    The goddamn teacher’s pet. Boy Scout. A favorite in D. C. . Mister Revolutionary Thinker. How the fuck do I compete with that? If this monstrosity of an idea succeeds, I never get that position. If it fails, I am nothing more than a part of a losing team.
    The worst part?
    The Boy. The god-damned Boy. Englemann’s own tragic, sob-story son-in-law. The anointed one—the prodigy. The Poster Child, helping Daddy to ‘save’ the Bureau from itself.
    The Boy whose existence screamed at Russell Eckhart, reminding him every day that he was the property of Graham Stemple.
    Look, Russ. See what Jack’s little boy can do? Can you make Daddy Stemple proud, Russ?
    Joshua Babelton, the good son; the star that cast its shadow over the underachieving, average, and boring Russell Eckhart. Russell was no one. He was nothing . Graham Stemple spread his cheeks one day and shat Russell Eckhart into the ranks of the FBI.
     
    After arrival at the Phoenix airport, Babe, Eckhart, and Jordan Blackledge were escorted to the Phoenix FBI office and ushered into a conference room. There, they were introduced to three members of the Phoenix Bureau: The SAC, Special Agent in Charge, the ASAC, or Assistant SAC, and an FBI psychologist. Three other men were introduced. Cole Palmer, his father, and one of his uncles.
    “Gentlemen,” the Phoenix SAC began, “In the interests of the Bureau this meeting is being held to gather an understanding of the events of August seventeen. This is not a hearing or any form of legal proceeding, but merely a discussion that might assist the Bureau’s ability to limit this type of outcome in the future. I would like to open the floor to Mr. Russell Eckhart, ASAC of the Boston Bureau office, who will question Mr. Cole Palmer concerning his recollection of these events…”
    Babe tried to force himself to concentrate and pay attention to the proceedings.
    Dammit. This is your job. Jack is depending on you. Jill is depending on you.
    “We were staged in front of the hedgerow….” Cole Palmer said.
    Jill was so sick, so weak. She could barely…
    “I set my rifle to single shot; at least I thought I did…”
    Jack is there. I didn’t want to come, but this is important. What choice do I have?
    “Everything happened so fast, I never meant to hurt anyone…”
     
    Babe looked across the table at Cole Palmer. Movement in Babe’s peripheral vision caught his attention. A shadow moved through the window behind Cole until it surrounded him. The shadow began to swirl—began to take form. Babe looked above Cole’s head and saw the outline of a hooded figure. Only the outline of a chin and lips were visible beneath. Long, slender, blue-gray hands stretched from billowing sleeves at the figure’s side and gripped Cole’s shoulders. The figure then removed its hands. It stepped to the side and reached across the table.
    It reached toward Babe: One unreal hand. Reaching. Methodically, without urgency. Beckoning. Offering…something. Like… a lifeline. Peace. Calm. It took Babe by the arm.
     
    “Sir? Sir, are you