Like Grownups Do Read Online Free Page B

okay?”
    Babe snapped into the present world for the second time that day. The hand on his arm—and the voice—belonged to Cole Palmer. Babe looked down at Cole’s hand in time to see a tiny splash.
    “No, no. I’m fine. Fine. I’m sorry—just a little jet lagged, I guess. I’m good. Please continue,” Babe insisted.
    Jordan looked concerned, but said nothing. Russell Eckhart was livid.
    The meeting concluded with a plan to break for a quick lunch, after which the Boston team would meet with the Phoenix team for a brief review. Babe slipped out to a nearby men’s room, where he hyperventilated and splashed cold water on his face for a good two minutes. He walked back toward the conference room. As he exited the men’s room he overheard Eckhart giving Jordan Blackledge an earful somewhere in the distance. He caught parts of phrases—“total lack of professionalism!”, “look like amateurs!”, “disgrace to the Boston office!”
    Babe had nowhere else to go so he just kept walking toward the sounds of Eckhart’s voice. As he neared a corner he heard the voice of Jordan Blackledge.
    “Goddammit, Russell. His wife is dy—”
    The discussion was over at that point.
     
    “Jordan, I’m going to catch a cab to the airport,” Babe said.
    “Sure, Babe. Okay. You take care, and give Jill my love,” Jordan said.
    Babe looked up to see the Phoenix SAC shake hands with Cole Palmer’s uncle and then Cole Palmer’s father. The SAC and Cole’s father embraced before the Palmer brothers left. The Phoenix Bureau staff joined the Boston team in the hall.
    “Babelton, these people have gone out of their way to involve us,” Russell Eckhart said. “Another hour and we can all go to the airport.” Eckhart was almost growling.
    Babe turned after taking two steps.
     
    “Mr. Eckhart, Jordan and you heard everything that I heard in that room. These gentlemen are more than welcome to call me at any time regarding this case. I’m sorry, but my wife is dying.”
    The hallway was still and quiet. Babe turned to go and then turned back.
    “Special Agent Palmer is a good man. He wants nothing more than to make his father and the rest of his family proud. But he can’t sleep. And he’s been self-medicating.”
    Jordan and Eckhart looked at each other quizzically. The Phoenix Bureau psychologist was turning to leave when the SAC grabbed him by the arm. Literally dragging the man, The SAC took a step toward Babe.
    “How do you know about this, son?”
    Babe’s stare turned from vacant to clear, and as he turned to leave he said,
    “I don’t know.”

 
     
    Four
     
     
    R ussell Eckhart loaded his luggage into the trunk and slid into the front seat of his Lincoln Town Car. His car was parked in a remote corner of the long term parking lot at Boston Logan Airport. The last thing in the world he wanted to hear right now was the metal on glass tapping coming from the passenger side window. He closed his eyes and sighed. He turned his head to see a familiar, slender white hand with obscenely long fingers adorned with ominously sadistic Gothic rings. The hand, as always, was at the end of a long black sleeve. That sleeve belonged to a black trench coat, the same type worn by the man standing by the rear door. And, he knew without looking, the same as the one worn by the man that was surely standing next to the door behind him. Eckhart unlocked the doors. Three men got in and closed the doors. The man seated behind him spoke.
     
    “So good to see you again, Mr. Eckhart. It has been a while.”
    “That’s probably a good thing,” Eckhart said, glancing only briefly toward his rear view mirror.
    “Three Europeans, trench coats and sunglasses on a cloudy August afternoon in the parking lot of a major airport. Can you see where this might go bad?”
    The “muscle” in the rear passenger side seat cracked his knuckles inside his black leather gloves.
    That ridiculous bit of theater would make me laugh if these fuckers