All Good Deeds Read Online Free

work, I’d built up a solid network and already had a nice client base. I wasn’t making big bucks, but I paid the bills.
    By late afternoon, my eyes were glazed over from dealing with emails and billing. I rubbed my temples, contemplating taking a nap. My phone buzzed, and Kelly, the hacker who made my business run, popped up on the screen. Hopefully she had some information about Chris Hale.
    If he’d been telling the truth about his motive, he was going to be a lot tougher to deal with than an old-fashioned blackmail. Not to mention lying about being a sociopath. I didn’t believe that for a minute, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t because I couldn’t believe someone so attractive could be terrible. I’d been around enough to know looks mean exactly squat. My instinct about Chris went beyond common misconception and into the realm of something I couldn’t explain yet.
    I swiped the screen expecting to see Kelly’s information on Chris, but instead her words sent a cold rush of paralyzing fear through me. My body turned liquid, sagging down the chair as if it were ready to turn into a pool of shuddering mush. I’d been expecting this for months, resolved to it the same way a person accepts the diagnosis of a loved one’s terminal cancer, but this was worse than I’d envisioned. Every parent’s nightmare.
    “8 yr old girl missing in Beckett’s area. Stop by asap. -K”
    Kelly lived on Eighteenth Street, near Rittenhouse Square, in a tiny studio that was never warm enough. Parking down here sucked, and I ended up five blocks away and jetting through the open air park. Rittenhouse is one of my favorite places in Philadelphia. While high rises are scattered throughout the area, the side streets boast historical brownstones, and during the summer, there’s no better place for outside seating than at one of the many cafés. Usually when I come to visit Kelly, I make a stop at Di Bruno Brothers, home of the best gourmet cheese in the city. Tonight I didn’t have the stomach for it.
    Even at night on a brisk October evening, minglers were scattered in the park. A couple walking a purebred dog that probably cost more than my high-tech mattress glared at me as I rushed by. A group of teenagers had taken up residence on the corner and were holding some sort of impromptu break dancing contest, their music beating out the sound of traffic. I rushed past their party and into Kelly’s building, using the code she’d entrusted me with. She answered after my first knock.
    “You must have run half a dozen red lights to get here this fast.” Kelly locked the door behind me.
    I admired her new haircut, very short, which showed off the angular planes of her face and accentuated her doe-like eyes. “When did you get your hair done?”
    “Friday.” She smiled, both of us acknowledging the small victory. Seven years ago, she sat shaking and terrified in my office, resistant to any kind of unfamiliar contact. It took me three weeks to break through her walls, and I started the process with very small cracks.
    “I almost didn’t go through with it,” Kelly said. “The last time I tried going that far from my apartment, I had a panic attack and almost passed out. But I made it.”
    “I’m proud of you.” She’d come so damned far over the past couple of years.
    “Are the new anxiety meds working?”
    “I think so. I slept for three hours straight last night. That’s an improvement.”
    “I’m glad.” I couldn’t delay the dirty business of our meeting any longer. “When did the little girl go missing?”
    “About six hours ago,” Kelly said. “I heard it on the scanner.” Most consultants were required to work in a secured area of the station, but Kelly was given an exception due to her skills and PTSD. Her visits to the precincts were sporadic, but her connections were my inside ticket.
    “School released early today for a teacher workday. She was supposed to walk home with a group of kids, but she never