Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Acknowledgments
- P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
- About the Author
- About the Book
- Also by Alison Gaylin
- About the Publisher
“No. But he was only sixteen.” Morasco moved toward the door. “Also the clerk at his hotel said that a couple of days after the shootings, right before he disappeared, he came storming into the lobby and shouted at him for no reason. Scared the hell out of the other guests.”
“Oh . . .”
“Yeah, and some witnesses said they saw him freaking out outside the New York library, the day after Mitchell died.”
“Oh.”
“Okay, anyway, I gotta go check on a few things, but go ahead and listen. I’ll be back in about ten minutes to walk you out.”
After he left, Robin put the headphones on and pushed the play button. She heard a rustling sound at first, and then Quentin’s voice. “So. This tape will be my formal confession to the police. But first I would like to make an apology.” Robin shifted in the chair, struck by the flatness of his voice, the lack of emotion. “I want to apologize to Robin and Eric Diamond. Robin Diamond in particular. I’m sorry, Ms. Diamond. Robin. They loved you very much.” Robin swallowed hard. Gripped the arms of her chic, cushioned chair. “They gave you a stable upbringing, with summer camp and family vacations. I bet you never woke up in the middle of the night at just five years old, realizing you were all alone in your house.” He coughed. Took a breath. “It’s interesting . . . I read in this book that Gabriel LeRoy had a nickname for April Cooper. He called her Baby Blue, which had been his name for the baby blanket he used to carry around with him everywhere when he was a little boy. He called her Baby Blue because she made him feel the way that blanket did. Comfortable. Safe. You had that with your parents, Robin. I never had a Baby Blue, so in my anger and confusion and hurt, I destroyed yours. That isn’t an excuse. If anything, it’s the opposite. I’m telling you that I did what I did for the most selfish of reasons.”
Robin shut the recorder off. Rewound it. Played the last section again. “You had that with your parents, Robin. I never had a Baby Blue.”
Rewound it again. Played it again. “You had that—”
She hit pause. Then played it one more time, just to make sure—not about what Quentin had said, but about the sound in the background. It was kids, shouting. Same as she’d heard during their last phone conversation. Was he in the same park? Had he recorded this confession right after hanging up with her?