Blood and Bone Read Online Free Page A

Balor?”
    â€œI’m the other attorney,” Cindy said, pushing her hand forward for another solid shaking. “Cynthia Santiago. Mister Jones here is a consultant we sometimes employ.”
    â€œSorry for the brisk welcome,” Malcolm said, not sounding sorry in the least. “I didn’t know your business here.”
    â€œMal’s a little overprotective sometimes,” Camille said, her dark face blushing still darker. “but he’s been my best friend through all this.”
    â€œJones.” It was Lippincott, calling from the next room. “Can I see you for a moment?”
    Hannibal excused himself and joined Lippincott. The archway led to a two-story, bayed great room.Lippincott leaned against the brick fireplace. Above it hung an ornately framed painting of a woman in a field of flowers. The name at the bottom was Monet. Coin display cases lined the mantle like toy soldiers guarding the painting.
    â€œNieswand?” Hannibal asked.
    â€œGone to make a phone call, which is fine. I wanted a moment with you alone.” He paused until he realized Hannibal was waiting for him to go on. He seemed uncomfortable with the silence.
    â€œCamille is rather distraught,” Lippincott finally said. “With good reason. She’s been through a lot. I saw what it did to her to be abandoned by her husband. And now it looks as though she’ll lose her son as well.” Hannibal stood quietly through another long pause, waiting for Lippincott to make his real point. When the doctor cleared his throat, he thought this must be it.
    â€œThis search for Jacob is Camille’s idea, not Harlan’s,” Lippincott said, avoiding Hannibal’s shaded gaze. “He’d clutch at any imagined chance because losing his grandson will kill him. But she’s the one who wants to see Jacob again. I don’t think she’s ever gotten over him.”
    â€œYou’ve been the family doctor that long?”
    â€œDoctor and friend,” Lippincott said.
    â€œOkay, tell me about the missing son.”
    Lippincott began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back, looking like a figure on a German clock. “Jacob was a bad seed, Mister Jones. Undisciplined. Ungrateful. Irrationally immature. Wanted to be a hippie, or a black revolutionary or something. The boy brought nothing but pain to those who loved him. His disappearance certainly helped his mother into anearly grave. He left a woman who loved him and his own unborn son for a street girl. And he abused her.”
    â€œAbused her?” Hannibal asked, settling into a deep easy chair. He worked to stay relaxed, trying to counterbalance Lippincott’s increasing agitation. “You mean physically?”
    â€œI examined her once,” Lippincott said, his eyes floating back into the past. “Just a child, a year or two younger than Jacob. She laughed about the scars, but I couldn’t. Cigarette burns, Mister Jones. Scattered around her stomach, her buttocks, and the upper part of her legs.”
    â€œPretty?” Hannibal asked to keep Lippincott talking.
    â€œIf you like that type. Half black, half Chicano. Small, but with big breasts and a big behind. Big, watery cow eyes.” He suddenly stopped, as if he thought he had said too much.
    â€œWhat was her name?”
    â€œI don’t remember, and it doesn’t matter,” Lippincott shot back. “This is about here and now. And you working for Harlan Mortimer. Look, I may still be able to find a suitable donor for Kyle in time. But Harlan won’t have it, not while he thinks this wild goose chase has a chance of success.”
    â€œAnd what would you have me do?”
    â€œTake the money and take a nice vacation to Florida, Mister Jones.” Lippincott’s face was rigid, but his hands were begging. “Send back a report in a couple of days saying there are no leads and it’s