Deadeye Read Online Free Page A

eyes made it hard to tell. One thing was for sure however . . . Something smelled, and Lee thought it was Mrs. Fuentes. Almost anything could be concealed under the baggie. A shriveled limb, a misshaped torso, or an open abscess. “Yes,” Mrs. Fuentes said. “The ad was a mistake. But it was our first trip, and we didn’t know.”
    â€œOf course you didn’t,” Conti said sympathetically. “So you were there? You witnessed what happened?”
    â€œYes. The man you call Popeye sent a message. He said he had components to sell. Gary agreed to meet him across from a restaurant in Compton. We went there by taxi. I wanted to keep the car, but Gary said no, that would cost too much money. So we waited. A gray especiale passed us two times.”
    â€œThey were checking you out,” Lee observed. “Looking for a trap.”
    â€œThen the car stopped,” Mrs. Fuentes said. “A man got out. He had bulging eyes and rotting teeth.”
    â€œ
This
man?” Conti inquired as he pushed a picture of Cherko across the table.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œSo he wasn’t wearing a mask.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhat happened after that?”
    â€œThe man got out of the car and spoke to Gary. I was too far away to hear what was said. But it was only a minute or two before the man pulled a pistol and shot my husband in the chest. Then he spit on him and called him
un maldito mutante
.
    A fucking mutant,
Lee thought.
    At that point, Mrs. Fuentes started to sob, and Lee circled the table to put an arm around the other woman’s shoulders. The smell was worse than before. “Then what happened?” Conti asked.
    â€œI ran. He shot me in the back. The impact threw me forward. It hurt, but I knew he would come, so I played dead.”
    Lee returned to her seat. “And it worked.”
    â€œYes. He kicked me. It was hard to remain silent, but I did. Then he went back to get Gary’s money belt.”
    The interview came to an end shortly after that. Lee signed the legal release that would allow the mutant to leave the hospital—and promised to let her know when they caught Popeye. “So,” Lee said, as they left. “Tell me, Romeo . . . What, if anything, did we learn?”
    â€œNot a damned thing. Everything she said was in the initial reports.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Lee agreed. “You were paying attention.”
    â€œDoes that mean I can drive the car?”
    â€œHell, no.”
    Conti grinned. “Just checking.”
    They went to lunch after that, followed by a long afternoon spent chasing leads that didn’t produce anything. Around four thirty, Lee parked the car in front of her apartment. Lee got out and Conti came around to the driver’s side. “One last thing,” Lee said as she looked up at him. “You gave Mrs. Fuentes something just before we left. What was it?”
    Conti looked embarrassed. “Fifty bucks.”
    â€œYou’re a sucker. You know that.”
    â€œYeah, I know.”
    â€œHere’s twenty-five,” Lee said as she peeled some numoney off a small roll and handed it to him. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Conti wanted to say something, but Lee was walking away.
    Once inside her apartment, Lee traded her street clothing for a tee shirt and shorts. Then she went out for a five-mile run. The badge and the revolver added some weight but made her feel more secure. Lee was careful to vary the routes she used, but all of them took about thirty minutes.
    After returning to the apartment, she showered, microwaved the same chicken-and-veggie dinner she ate every night, and sat down to watch the news. None of it was very encouraging.
B. nosilla
was continuing to mutate while scientists searched for a cure . . . And it did so with such speed that they hadn’t been able to catch up.
    There were rumors that a terrible storm had devastated