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
“They said it was a massive heart attack. They said he was gone before he hit the floor.” She looked at the detective with damp eyes. “I killed him. I killed my Brendan.”
“No.”
“I shouldn’t have made him go up. I shouldn’t have let him see how bad his son looked. Not until he was ready. He needed to do it in his own time. It wasn’t a heart attack, you know. It was a broken heart. That’s what it was. His heart was so broken he couldn’t continue.”
Duckworth reached across the table for the woman’s hand and held it. “How long ago was this?”
“Five weeks,” she said.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Duckworth said.
“Oh my gosh, I forgot your coffee.”
She jumped up from the table, filled a mug, and put it on the table in front of him.
“Do you have any help?” he asked. “Other children, extended family?”
Ruth shook her head. “Just me.” She wrung her hands. “I’m not quite sure what we’re going to do. I’ve had to quit my job to look after Craig. There’s some insurance money from Brendan’s policy, but it won’t last long. And then there’s all the reconstructive surgery that Craig needs. I don’t know how I’m going to manage that. He did qualify for some therapy, to help him, you know, psychologically, with what’s happened to him.”
She glanced at the wall clock. “In fact, she’s due here pretty soon. But the surgery he needs—plastic surgery, other things—would cost a fortune. They have these things on the Internet, I think they call them crowd-funding? Where you ask people to donate a little money? And if enough do, then you can do whatever it is you need to do. But no one’s going to donate to help Craig.” She dug a tissue out of her sleeve and dabbed her eye. “No one cares. People think he got what he deserved.”
Duckworth took a sip of his coffee and another bite of his scone.
“Are you here because you caught them?” she asked. “Did you catch the people who did this to him?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I figured as much. You know, I like you, Detective Duckworth, I do. I think you’re a very nice man. But I can’t help but think that the police really aren’t trying that hard, you know? That they think Craig got what was coming to him too.”
“That’s not true,” he said.
“Then what have you been doing? It’s been three months. I heard you found out who owned that monstrous dog.”
“Yes,” Duckworth said. “But the dog had been stolen. We don’t think the owner had anything to do with your son’s assault.”
“No one saw anything?”