Hulk Peter David (best motivational novels txt) 📖

the shoulders, but her body language made it clear that such a touch would be unwelcome. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, his hands extended, and then he lowered them. But his voice was fervent as he said, “I need you, even just for a few days, to trust me. I’m going to do everything I can to sort this out. And I promise . . . your friend in there, no matter what kind of a mess he’s in, I’ll make sure he’s cared for.”

The assurance almost made her want to laugh. Thunderbolt Ross hadn’t particularly cared about his own daughter for years, but the milk of human kindness was going to be spilling over for his daughter’s erstwhile boyfriend? She wasn’t exactly convinced.

Her father continued, even more firmly, “But as of right now he’s incommunicado. And for the next few days, at least, you’re going to stay away from here.”

The urge to laugh grew exponentially. Who the hell was he to think that—?

Then she saw the MPs all around, armed to the teeth. And she realized that nothing short of obtaining a lawyer for Bruce was going to get her anywhere near him again. And that was what she was going to have to do, as soon as she attended to another problem. A problem that, if solved, might provide answers to many questions about Bruce Krenzler, or Bruce Banner . . .

She shrugged, not giving her father so much as the benefit of a reply, and then climbed into her car and sped away.

Her plan was formulating in her head when her cell phone rang. She picked it up absently, knowing it wasn’t going to be Bruce and not caring all that much who else it might be if not him.

“Yes?” she said.

“Pull over,” came a sharp voice.

“Who . . . ?” And then she recognized it, and she was angling the car over to curb even before her mind fully processed the information. “Is . . . is this . . . ?”

“Yes.”

“How did . . . ?” She glanced around quickly, looking for some sign of him, suddenly nervous that he might be looking over her shoulder or standing near a tree with one or more of those bizarre dogs that Bruce had described. “Are you . . . watching me?”

“No, Dr. Ross, my spy satellite is unfortunately on the fritz,” he informed her with dry sarcasm.

“How did you get my cell phone number?”

“You called the lab last night. Caller ID is a wonderful invention, don’t you think?”

“You were there last night when Bruce . . . ?” She stopped, suddenly worried about giving something away.

“Yes,” he said silkily. “I was there. Quite a show. And you want to know all about it, I’ll wager. As a matter of fact, you were about to seek me out. You were going to drive over to the lab, check personnel records, that sort of thing. And please don’t bother to deny it.”

“I’m not denying it,” said Betty firmly. “Although I am interested in how you figured that out.” She was perturbed to find that she was clutching her phone far too tightly, practically jamming it against her ear.

“Because I’m brilliant, Dr. Ross. As brilliant as Bruce is, I’m more so.”

“And modest.”

“It’s a curse I live with,” he said sadly, and then chuckled. How charming to know that he amused himself to such a degree. “Doctor, I’m going to save both of us some time, particularly since you’ll never find the information you seek in the manner that you’re seeking it. Believe me when I tell you that the personnel records would be less than helpful. I’ve been far too thorough in that regard. But we can be of service to each other, because we both care very much about Bruce—it’s just that each of us does so in his or her own way. If we are of one accord, however, one mind, then all can benefit. Do you have a pen and paper?”

“Yes.”

“Then write down the following address.”

She did so. It was an address on Jones Street over in Oakland. She knew the area of town; it wasn’t a particularly good one. She’d once gotten a flat tire there, and the fifteen minutes she’d taken to change it had been among the longest in her life. So she wasn’t entirely sanguine about the prospect of heading out there again voluntarily. But she didn’t see that she had any choice.

“I shall see you when you arrive,” came the voice. “And Dr. Ross—”

“Yes.”

“You’re an explorer. This will be a voyage of discovery. So . . . smile.”

The line went dead.

She hoped she wouldn’t be next.

crossing purposes

The area was exactly as unpleasant as she’d remembered it. You’re insane; you’re going to die; get the hell out of here, her common sense kept warning her, even as she turned off the ignition and got ready to step out of the car. Just to play it safe, she placed a lock on the steering wheel for additional security. Even as she clicked the bar into place, she decided that locking up the car was morbidly amusing. Her body could be lying in shreds in the backyard of this horrible house for weeks, picked clean by ravenous pooches and chortled over by a psychotic old man, but, hey, at least her car would still be here, impervious to robbers. Yes, wonderful. It’d probably be stripped as clean as her bones.

She’d briefly considered bringing someone with her, but couldn’t figure out who to ask. Her father? One of the MPs? Not bloody likely. The police? On what grounds? No one was accusing this man, even if he truly was Bruce’s father, of any crime. The police had nothing to question him about, and there was no way she was going to be able to explain it all to them.

What she needed was some big burly private detective, like the one the heroine was always able to find in