Chapters (68)
- Dedication
- Title Page
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- 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
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Copyright
“I’ve been giving what you said some thought,” he said. “You know, about how I drove the car.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Maybe it’s because I was drunk that I was able to drive it,” he said.
“I’m not following.”
“Like, okay, don’t they say that if you fall down or something while you’re sober, your muscles tense up, and you might actually break some bones. But if you’re drunk, you’re all kind of rubbery and you don’t tense up, so you don’t get hurt as bad.”
“That sounds like a study funded by teenage boys,” I said. “But carry on.”
“So maybe I’ve always known in my head how to drive a stick shift, but when I tried it in your car I was so tense I did a really bad job of it, but because I was drunk, I was relaxed and did it just fine.”
“That’s quite a theory,” I said.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I don’t know what to think.”
“If you don’t know what to think, why’d you have to bring it all up in the first place?”
I sighed. “It’s kind of what I do.”
“That’s what bodyguards do? Mess with people’s heads?”
“I’m not a bodyguard, Jeremy. I’m a detective.”
“Well, you haven’t really been doing any detecting. You’ve just been looking out for me and driving me all over the place. It’s kind of like you’re taking me on a vacation, is all.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I hope you’ll give me a good review on TripAdvisor. I’m trying to up my five-star ratings.”
“I’m just sayin’, you’re messing with my head with all these crazy questions, but you don’t have any answers.”
“I’m hoping maybe you do.”
“Well I don’t, okay?” Jeremy shook his head with disgust and frustration. I certainly felt the latter. The feeling was disrupted by the ringing of my cell phone, which I had left on the small table next to me. I snatched it up, looked at the caller.
“I’m gonna take this inside.” I got out of the chair, slid open the sliding glass door, and took a seat on the couch. I put the phone to my ear. “Weaver.”
“It’s Bob.”
Bob Butler.
“Hi, Bob.”
“Glad I was able to catch you. I know you must be on the road somewhere.”
“Yeah,” I said. If he didn’t know where I was, then Madeline Plimpton clearly had not told him. And I was even more certain that she had not told Jeremy’s mother, Gloria.
“How’s Jeremy?” Bob asked.