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rolled back under his van. Relief began to loosen the knot in his gut. It was out and in the hands of a private investigator with experience and the law on his side. He was working for the family, he'd know where to turn about the boy's problem. No need now for him to go to Dr. Tojian. The investigator, Mars, would pass that on, he told himself. |
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While Jack worked on the muffler clamp, he let his thoughts wander, and for the first time in some twenty minutes he could think more clearly and begin to wonder about the specific nature of the threat to Matthew Hazzard. Who, for example, had notified the Hazzard family? Had they received a tip-off? An anonymous call? If so, why were they out there at the baseball game last night? And a call from whom? The only one left was Julius Wick, but why was his face cut out of the photo? He should have asked Mars where he'd gotten the photo. He thought about other possibilitiesgovernment connections, but they wouldn't put out contracts on a boy . . . would they? And even if so, how would a private investigator get hold of it? |
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As he was able to consider the possibilities, he began to wish he had asked this Mars more questions, wished he had been more circumspect, more cautious . . . |
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And suddenly a chilling thought emerged. What if this Jerry Mars, Private Investigator, was not what his card said, that he was somebody working for whoever (Julius and Claire Manning Wick?) was behind the killings of Marcus Wiley and the others? A crazy notion? The product of an imagination tenderized by paranoia? Well, some paranoia makes sense . . . |
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This all happened just about the time Julius Wick was tapped by the president to head up the Agency of Biotechnology. A position that did not allow for skeletons in the closet. And, God knew, the iron maiden, Claire, would see to that, yes, even if it meant . . . |
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And if this Jerry Mars was their hired killer . . . if he had murdered the others . . . Jack Perry was the odd man out. Of course, the son of a bitch looked familiar. He had seen him the other night at that Little League game. That guy all in black. He wasn't guarding the kidhe was stalking Jack Perry. |
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He should have stuck with his resolve to talk to the doctor. His mother's favorite adage was: "Your first thought is always your best |
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