"Elrod, P N - Vampire Files 10 - Cold Streets" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

I left their unconscious bodies in the snow, returning to the house to make sure
no one else lurked behind the doors. All was quiet. I checked Sarah more closely
this time. She wore the same clothing from the photo, and when I happened to
take a breath, it was plain she had on the same outfit as when she'd been
grabbed two weeks ago. Didn't matter to me, I only breathed regular when
talking. God knows, Vivian wouldn't care so long as her girl came home.
Sarah refused to wake. Disturbing, but perversely convenient if she slept
through the trip home. Pushing her sleeves back, I found needle marks on the
inside of her elbows and sniffed the bruised area. There was a taint to the
bloodsmell under her skin. Morphine. Jeez, if they'd turned her into an addictЕ
Couldn't worry about that now. Her mother was waiting. Wouldn't you know the
damn place didn't have a phone so I could tell her to relax. All the calls had
to have been done from booths to make them hard to trace. Smart, smart boys.
I wrapped the blanket close around Sarah, then went out to the car. It had
plenty of space once I'd thrown the junk out. I shoved Dugan and Ralph into the
trunk. Tight fit for them, they might smother or freeze, but life's tough. After
tying Ponti and Vinzer up, they got the back seat to themselves along with the
suitcase of cash.
Sarah I eased onto the passenger side, where she slumped down with a sigh. Poor
kid.
With no idea where I was, I started the car and followed its tracks in the
frozen mud until reaching paved road. Since we'd turned right on the way in, I
turned left and kept my eyes peeled for a clue to our location. The stars were
out; I found Polaris and drove toward it. Soon a garishly painted road sign
urged me to Phil Your Tank at Phil's Phil-Er-Up! only half a mile ahead. At this
hour the place was closed, but it had an outside booth. The phone book hanging
from a chain in the glass box was a skinny volume for Lowell, Indiana. The name
didn't mean anything to me. Maybe Escott would know.
I got a handful of change ready and asked for the longdistance operator. She
told me how much for three minutes. My hands were shaking. I dropped more coins
than I put in. Not a lot of traffic on the lines; she got me straight through.
Vivian Gladwell answered before the first ring had finished.
"Yes, yes? Where is she?" she blurted. "Please give her back!"
God, what a terrible mix of agony and hope was in her quavering voice. A big
load of weight slipped from my hunched shoulders as I identified myself and
delivered the good news. She let out a scream that nearly broke my eardrum, but
it was one of joy, not anguish; then she started sobbing in relief. The next
voice I heard was Escott's.
"Mrs. Gladwell is rather overcome," he stated, his British accent very
pronounced. It made him sound lofty and calm, but I knew better. Inside his head
he was probably grinning like a chimp. "I expect once she recovers, she will
have questions."
Anticipating what those might be, I supplied answers, which he relayed to her.
Most of it was reassurance that Sarah was alive and well, what her mother needed
to hear the most. Such was Vivian's state that she forgot to ask how in hell I'd
managed to pull off this stunt after being left behind in the first place. Later
on I could hypnotize her into forgetting that detail completely.
The operator interrupted, wanting more money. I dropped in change.
"I'm in Lowell, Indiana," I said to Escott. "Where is that from Chicago?"
Over the wires, paper rustled. He'd kept maps ready by the phone. "You're about