Deal Gone Bad - A Thriller (Frank Morrison Thriller Series Book 1) Read Free Page A

that Morrison did not know, then drove up a short
steep hill that opened up to a cleared plateau. At the end of the road was a
white clapboard house with a red front door and black window shutters. On its
right flank stood a separate garage and shed unit. Very clean and orderly. A
property obviously well maintained.
    As they covered the last
few hundred feet leading up to it, Morrison started to worry. The key. He didn’t
know who they were going to see. He had never been to this house. But it could
spark questions that he was not willing to answer. He sensed enough trouble as
it were.
    But what could he do?
    The key was in his jeans pocket,
and he had a gun aimed at the nape of his neck. He couldn’t risk anything just
yet.
    The driver stopped the
Navigator in front of the garage and ordered Morrison to get out.
    “And don’t try anything funny,”
the blond guy said, still holding the gun.
    They led him directly to the
shed. The guy with the slicked-back hair scrambled with a lock, then opened the
latch and pulled open a heavy wooden door. It was dark in there. The only light
came from the exterior.
    “Get in there,” said the
guy holding the lock.
    Morrison pondered his
situation. Outnumbered two to one. At his left, the guy with the gun was out of
reach and seemed steady enough. Ready to fire off at the slightest provocation.
There was still nothing he could do. So he made for the door.
    “Wait,” the blond guy said
to his partner, “don’t you want to search him before we lock him up?”
    Morrison stopped. He
thought about the key again. He didn’t want them to find it, whoever they were.
He really didn’t want that. It had to stay hidden.
    The other guy shrugged and
said, “What’s the point? He’s just been released from prison. I don’t think
that sheriff chick slipped him anything dangerous. Right, Morrison?”
    Morrison kept silent.
    “Besides, he has a
reputation for avoiding weapons of any kind. At least that’s what the boss said.”
    The blond guy motioned for
him to get moving again and said, “Don’t you wish you had a piece with you now,
Morrison? I betcha do.”
    As soon as Morrison
stepped inside the slightly cool room, the door slammed shut on him with a
heavy bang. He heard fast metallic chirping sounds as the latch was fastened
and the lock put back in place. Then nothing. Just darkness and silence.
    Here we go again , he thought. After
three years, two months and seventeen days, back in a new prison.

Chapter 4
    It was pitch dark in
there.
    The only light came from a
thin ray under the massive shed door, not powerful enough to project inside.
Instead, it just vanished on the first half-inch of plywood floor. Compared
with outside, the air felt cool and slightly humid. At this time of year, the
nights were still cold out in the countryside. The shed’s walls had yet to absorb
substantial heat. Later on, Morrison had no doubt the room would turn into a
sauna. Before being locked up, he had seen that the garage and shed unit stood
clear of any tree.
    A fresh spruce smell
permeated the air, as if the shed had not been constructed too long ago. Its
studs and joists still released the aroma of freshly felled timber. A weird
thought occurred to him: Was this built for me? The idea unsettled him
but he quickly waved it aside. He had more pressing things to do than worry.
    First, he had to find some
light. He crept back up to the door. Put his hands on its surface. Felt his way
to its left edge, the side where it opened. There was no handle or hardware of
any kind inside. Just smooth plywood. He tried applying some pressure on it, but
it didn’t budge. The locked latch held it tight. He moved his hands further and
felt the framing. The timber was rough under his fingers, not like the smooth construction
lumber that you could buy at the hardware center. More like the raw product
that a self-sufficient farmer would get when he cut down good solid trees then
sliced them with a portable sawmill.