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
Duckworth looked at Madeline. “Should we go someplace and talk?”
“No, it’s fine. They’re at my place.”
“Your place?” Duckworth said.
“Oh for God’s sake, they’re in the Cape,” Gloria said. “Why didn’t I think of that? I’d forgotten you even had that house. It’s not like we’ve been invited there in years.”
“Cape Cod?” Duckworth asked.
Madeline nodded. “A beach house. I haven’t been there in a long time. A property management company looks after it for me.”
Duckworth got out his notepad. “Address?”
Madeline gave it to him.
“Is there a phone there?”
“No, but I have a cell phone number for Mr. Weaver.”
“Okay, good.” Duckworth looked at Gloria. “I trust you’ll have no problem with my speaking to your son?”
“No, of course not,” Gloria said. “Just don’t upset him.”
Duckworth smiled. “If he’s with Cal Weaver, I don’t imagine there’s all that much to worry about. And as you say, no one knows they’re there.”
Forty-Eight
FORTY-EIGHT
CAL
“GIVE me some names,” I said to Jeremy.
“What names?”
We were sitting in the upstairs living room, gazing out over the bay as the sun started going down. The clouds were streaked with orange and yellow. Another tanker ship could be seen near the horizon.
“People at the party,” I said. “The night it happened.”
“I don’t know. Lots of people.”
“Think.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I might want to talk to some of them.”
“What for?” he asked.
I sighed. “I have some questions.”
“You’re going to stir things up,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
Jeremy frowned. “I don’t know. You’re going to cause all kinds of trouble if you start asking people things.”
“Don’t you want to know what happened?”
“I know what happened. I ran over Sian McFadden and killed her. I don’t know how I did it. But I did. You’re making me crazy.”
“Sorry,” I said.
He shook his head. “We should watch some TV or something. Or go somewhere. Go to a movie maybe. This place is pretty and all but it gets boring real fast. There’s sand, and there’s water, and that’s about it.”
I pointed to the remote on the coffee table. “See what’s on.”
He snatched it up and pointed it at the TV. I hadn’t seen a non-flat screen in some time. This one was about a thirty-six-incher, which made it nearly two feet deep.
“That thing must weigh five thousand pounds,” Jeremy said. “It’s not HD or anything.” He paused. “Do you think they’d have had TV in prison?”
“In your own cell?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know. Was that the thing that scared you most about going to jail?”
“God, no,” he said. “I figured I’d get killed there. Or worse.”
“Something worse than being killed?”