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Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Other Books by This Author
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Part One: The Orphans of Murder
  7. Prologue
  8. Chapter 1
  9. Chapter 2
  10. Chapter 3
  11. Chapter 4
  12. Chapter 5
  13. Chapter 6
  14. Chapter 7
  15. Chapter 8
  16. Chapter 9
  17. Chapter 10
  18. Chapter 11
  19. Chapter 12
  20. Chapter 13
  21. Chapter 14
  22. Chapter 15
  23. Part Two: In the Absence of Justice
  24. Chapter 16
  25. Chapter 17
  26. Chapter 18
  27. Chapter 19
  28. Chapter 20
  29. Chapter 21
  30. Chapter 22
  31. Chapter 23
  32. Chapter 24
  33. Chapter 25
  34. Chapter 26
  35. Chapter 27
  36. Chapter 28
  37. Part Three: At Any Cost
  38. Prologue
  39. Chapter 29
  40. Chapter 30
  41. Chapter 31
  42. Chapter 32
  43. Chapter 33
  44. Chapter 34
  45. Chapter 35
  46. Chapter 36
  47. Chapter 37
  48. Chapter 38
  49. Chapter 39
  50. Chapter 40
  51. Chapter 41
  52. Chapter 42
  53. Chapter 43
  54. Chapter 44
  55. Chapter 45
  56. Chapter 46
  57. Chapter 47
  58. Chapter 48
  59. Chapter 49
  60. Chapter 50
  61. Chapter 51
  62. Acknowledgments

More to the point, why hadn’t he? Was it simply his ingrained cop inclination to control situations by controlling information?

Or was it the elephant in the room? His too-slow recovery from his injury. His fear that his abilities had been diminished—that he wasn’t as strong, as sharp, as quick as he had once been—that there was a time when he wouldn’t have fallen on his face, wouldn’t have let the whisperer escape.

“You’ll figure it out,” said Madeleine, sliding a cutting board’s worth of chopped mushrooms and onions into a large skillet on the stove.

He realized she’d been watching him and was demonstrating yet again her uncanny ability to read his mind—to see his thoughts and feelings in his eyes as clearly as if he’d spoken them. Earlier in their marriage, he’d found this faculty of hers almost frightening. Now he had come to regard it as one of the most benign and precious realities of their life together.

The skillet began to sizzle, and a pleasant aroma drifted across the room.

“Hey, that reminds me,” said Kyle, looking around. “Dad’s birthday present—he never finished opening it at dinner last night.”

Madeleine pointed to the sideboard. The box, still in its light blue wrapping, lay next to the arrow. Kyle, grinning, retrieved it and placed it on the table in front of his father.

“Well …” said Gurney, vaguely embarrassed. He began removing the paper.

“David, for Godsake,” said Madeleine, “you look like you’re defusing a bomb.”

He laughed nervously, pulled off the remaining paper, and opened the box, which was a matching blue. After unfolding several layers of crinkly white tissue paper, he found a handsome eight-by-ten sterling-silver frame. In the frame was a newspaper clipping, beginning to yellow with age. He stared at it, blinking.

“Read it out loud,” said Kyle.

“I … uh … I don’t have my reading glasses.”

Madeleine regarded him with a combination of curiosity and concern. She turned down the gas under the skillet, came across the room, and took the framed clipping from him. She glanced through it quickly.