One Good Deed David Baldacci Novels & Stories

He was bleeding from his forehead, feeling the metallic taste of a drop running down his face. Those who subdued him knew that despite being tied up, St. Jhon was still dangerous thanks to having been trained by the best. "All right." The voice emanated from the screen of a cell phone that one of the three guys who managed to neutralize him was holding in front of the tired and pained face of the detective, inside his own home. "If it wasn't you, who the hell killed Elizabeth?" Raymond laughed bitterly. "When this is all over, I will need a special license."

She would usually do it herself but now that she wasn't here, Anthony felt lost. He decided to distract himself from thinking about her by watching some TV, but it got boring real soon. "Mr. DeMarco, sorry to bother you again." It was the housekeeper again. Anthony looked at her. "You are not bothering me. Is there something wrong?" he asked. "No sir, nothing is wrong. I just found this book lying on the ground. I figured it could be something important, so I thought I would give this to you," she said and handed him a red leather-bound book that looked like a journal.

“I was thinking that, too. I haven’t gotten down to that yet, but I will. I need a little more time and a lot more digging.” “Take all the time you need,” I said. “This is finally going somewhere, and it’s offering more than what the police have been able to dig up.” David sniffed, pleased with himself. “When I promise answers, I deliver.” God, I hated arrogant people. But David was making good on his promise, and he was finding information that could lead to answers. So, I tolerated him because he was good at his job and that was what I paid him for. “Do you think that Uncle Dean was involved with this as well?” I asked.

"She said he was a monster. But that he could also... he could also be good. Sometimes." Elena thought about Dante. About how he had killed Salvatore. About how he had cried afterward. "People aren't just one thing," she said. "There are many of us. Sometimes contradictory." Carla nodded. "Like me. Daughter of a murderer. I want to be good." "You can be." "Do you think so?" Elena stared at her. "I know." A week later The box appeared. Carla had hidden it at the train station, in a locker like Vieri, like so many others. When they opened it, they found blood-curdling documents.

They were perfectly maintained as it was. "David, David, David...... What have you done brother." Yes, I used to treat him as my brother for a long time. What sort of brother dares to kill the other one? David proved me wrong. He was messing with my mind. I had my first doubt when I saw him gulping down hard in the strip club owned by me. David had chalked out everything perfectly. He was shocked beyond expectations when I accidentally grabbed the waitress and made her drink spiked whiskey. How would I ignore his abrupt move to kill the bartender? He knew if anyone from his well-planned murder story would end up in my hands, he would have been exposed immediately. His movement didn't buzz me

Brandon continues to massage my shoulders, trying to relieve the tension building up in me. The sight of David, sporting a triumphant expression upon realizing the money in the backpack, provokes a mixture of disgust and fury in my chest. His calculated gestures, and his eyes shining with greed, reveal the true nature of a man willing to use even a baby as a pawn in his dirty game. The detective explains his strategy: to let David believe he's free, giving him the illusion that he has successfully escaped. Brandon and I cling to hope, to the idea that this elaborate trap will lead us to our son. But even with the plan in motion, uncertainty and anxiety persist.

“This guy—lead operative on the surveillance job. Ex-military. Lives in Jersey now. Quiet retirement. But he’s got a daughter with medical debt. Cancer treatment. Same hospital your mother’s manager used.” I looked up. “Leverage?” “Or conscience.” David met my eyes. “People talk when they’re scared. Or when they’re dying inside watching someone they love suffer.” I exhaled slowly. “We approach him tomorrow. Neutral ground. I’ll offer to cover the daughter’s bills. In exchange for testimony.” David nodded. “I’m coming.” “I know.” He reached across the table. Brushed a strand of hair from my face. “You’re not doing this alone anymore. Not the investigation. Not the nightmares. Not any of it.”

I could ask him for more details later, after he’d had time to process everything. He said he needed time to think about all of this, and that was completely fair. It was a lot to expect him to accept—that something like this was even possible. “So, I really lost to David,” Alexander said again, taking another drink of his whiskey. “I’m disappointed in my alternate-universe self.” “I’m not sure about alternate universe,” I said, “but you shouldn’t be disappointed. Now we know that David had a whole team of powerful criminals behind him. If not for that, he wouldn’t have won.”

When I think that it is all over, I hear a loud noise and then I am shocked that she flops to the ground with a bullet hole through her arm. Straightening up, she bolts for the alley and disappears into the shadows. When I finally get the feeling back in my feet and arms, I push off the ground and stand up. Scanning the area, I see only one other person and he has a smoking handgun raised and pointed at the shadows with a haunted look on his face. I cautiously walk over to him before saying, “Thanks buddy, I owe you one.” He glances at me first before lowering his weapon and putting it back in its holster, then he says, “I am David Burns. Who might you be and what in the hell was that?”

He spared me one last contemptuous look, then walked out of the warehouse without looking back. Only when the cold numbness finally dulled the stabbing pain a little did I move. I used my left hand to dig a tiny tracker out from inside my bra and pressed it with a shaking finger. My most trusted associate, Enzo Giordano, arrived quickly. The moment he saw me, his eyes went red. He carefully pulled the knife out of my hand. My right palm was a mangled blur of flesh and blood. I couldn't feel a thing. My voice was weak, but I had never sounded more determined in my life. "Set a fire. Burn everything here to the ground. From today on, Navarro doesn't have a Queen of Cards named Anna Russo anymo