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
He handed the phone to Duckworth. The picture showed Cory sitting, presumably across from his father, smiling at the camera, a waiter lingering in the background. But there was something odd about the shot. The smile seemed somehow empty, as though the facial muscles needed to make it were operating independently of any messages from the brain, or the heart. But it was a good enough picture for identification purposes.
“I’m going to email this to myself,” Duckworth said.
Alastair nodded wearily. “I’ll keep trying to reach him,” he said.
“I can’t expect you to do what I’m going to ask, but I’d rather you didn’t tell him the police are looking for him. Just ask him to come home. And let me know if he does. I’d like the opportunity to speak with him before things get out of hand.”
“I feel . . . as though I’m betraying him. But,” and the man appeared to be struggling for the right words, “I feel he’s betrayed all the love and commitment my wife and I showed him over the years.”
“A couple of final things,” Duckworth said.
Alastair gave him a look that suggested he wasn’t sure he could take anything else.
“Yes?”
“What’s Cory driving?”
“He has a van. A Sienna. It’s black.”
“Registered in your name or his?”
“Mine. It . . . it makes the insurance cheaper if it’s under my name. Part of the family fleet, if you will.”
“I can have it looked up, but do you know the license plate off hand?”
Alastair nodded and told him. Duckworth wrote it down in his notebook.
“Last thing, sir,” Duckworth said. “Does Cory possess any firearms?”
“What? No, I’m not aware that he does.”
“How about yourself?”
“I’m not a collector or anything like that. I don’t care much for this country’s obsession with guns. It’s nothing short of madness.”
Duckworth noted that the man had not said he didn’t have one. “But?” he prompted.
Alastair sighed. “A few years ago, when my wife and I were advocating on behalf of an abortion clinic, we received some death threats. The police didn’t believe they would be acted on, but they took them seriously just the same. It was a woman from the Promise Falls police. I think her name was Rhonda.”
“Rhonda Finderman,” Duckworth said. “She’s the chief now.”
“That’s right. I saw her on TV—you, too—last year when all those people got poisoned. Thank God Cory and I were out of town at the time.”
“What did Rhonda tell you?”
“She suggested I might want to get myself some protection.”
“A gun.”