Читать книгу The Fourth Monkey: A twisted thriller you won’t be able to put down - Джей Ди Баркер, J.D. Barker - Страница 16
Оглавление“Carnegie and Emory? I’m buying this family a baby-name book for Christmas,” Nash said. “And how the hell do you hide a daughter and your girlfriend in one of the most expensive penthouses in the city without your current wife catching on?”
Porter tossed him the keys and rounded his Charger to the passenger door. “You drive; I need to keep reading this diary. There might be something helpful in it.”
“Lazy bastard, you just like to be chauffeured around. Driving Ms. Porter …”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m lighting the apple; we need to make good time.” Nash flicked a switch on the dashboard.
Porter hadn’t heard that term since he was a rookie. They used to call the magnetic police light on undercover cars apples. In today’s world they were long gone, replaced with LED light bars so slim along the window’s edge, you couldn’t see them from the inside.
Nash dropped the car into third without letting up on the gas and steered for the exit gate. The car jerked and the tires squealed with delight as power surged through them.
“I said you could drive, not play Grand Theft Auto with my wheels.” Porter frowned.
“I drive a 1988 Ford Fiesta. Do you have any idea what that’s like? The humiliation I suffer every time I climb inside and pull that squeaky door shut and fire up that monster of a four-cylinder engine? It sounds like an electric pencil sharpener. I’m a man; I need this every once in a while. Humor me.”
Porter waved him off. “We told the captain we’d call him back after we spoke to Talbot.”
Nash tugged the wheel hard to the left and raced past a minivan dutifully driving the speed limit. They drew so close, Porter spotted Angry Birds on the iPad screen of a little girl secured in the back seat. She looked up and grinned at the flashing lights, then went back to her game.
“I shot him a text back at Wheaton. He knows we’re going to Flair Tower,” Nash said.
Porter thought about the little girl with the iPad. “How do you hide a daughter for fifteen years in today’s world? It can’t be easy, right? Birth records aside, how do you keep that secret online? All the social networks? Press? Talbot’s on the news all the time, particularly since he started that new waterfront project. Cameras follow him around just waiting for him to fuck up. You’d think someone would have caught a picture or something.”
“Money can hide a lot of things,” Nash pointed out, squealing around a hard left back onto the highway.
Porter sighed and returned to the diary.
