Contents (85)
- Contents
- Part I
- 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
- Part II
- 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
- Part III
- 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
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- One
- Two
- Reading Group Guide
- A Conversation with the Author
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
“It’s nearly eight.”
I spin, almost falling over. My father stands at the entrance to the living room, his figure silhouetted by light coming from the hallway behind him. He flicks on the overhead lights.
“You look like shit,” he says.
He’s in a suit. It’s eight at night and he worked from home all day, and my father is still wearing a suit. The knot of his bloodred tie is still tight and cinched to the neck.
“I fell asleep.”
“I noticed. Your sister will be here soon.”
I’d nearly forgotten. The family meeting. A whole new wave of unpleasant washes over me.
“Can…can she even drive in this? I had a hard time getting home several hours ago.”
He shrugs. “We’ll find out.”
I rub my eyes. “I need to eat something.”
“Or you can just head straight to drinking. I’ll fix you something.”
It’s both a horrible and great idea. Wine will give me a headache. Whiskey will wreck me.
“Vodka,” I say. “Something with vodka. Not too strong.”
“Okay.”
I move into the kitchen, aware I’m barefoot. Open the refrigerator door and look at everything in there. The only reason it’s even stocked is because of Abril, and I scour the offerings of leftovers. What would be appealing on most days creates zero desire in me now. I shut the door, knowing I’ll be drinking my dinner.
The jolting shrill of Cora stiffens my spine.
“It’s a fucking nightmare out there,” she yells from the foyer.
In the diffused reflection of the refrigerator’s stainless steel I see none of my features, just a faint glowing outline. A ghost.
I turn and leave the kitchen.
Time for the family meeting.
Fifty-Four
5:18 p.m.
Colin forwent the shitty motel on the outskirts of town for a bed-and-breakfast in the center of Bury. The Oak Street Inn was charging him one-seventy-five a night, and he couldn’t care less. He’d been comfortable enough at the seventy-dollar place where he’d stayed on the department’s budget, but Colin wanted to spend money. Not on comfort. Just for the sake of spending money. Maybe that was what happened when you lost everything. You got the urge to keep it going. Spend every last penny in frivolity, wipe the slate clean. Start all over again. Or maybe not.
The storm saved its biggest punch until after Colin arrived in the afternoon. He pulled into a six-space parking lot that had been shoveled from a previous round of snow but was filling up again. Just one other car sat in the lot, several inches blanketing it.
The proprietors of the inn were a middle-aged couple, Franklin and Keith, who said they’d bought the four-room B and B eight years ago and invested considerable time and money into renovations and upkeep. It looked it, Colin thought. The Queen Anne Victorian was colorful, ornate, and detailed enough to let Colin imagine he’d walked into a gingerbread house. That’d been a pleasant thought for a few seconds, until the idea of gingerbread houses made him think of Hansel and Gretel, which in turn got him in the mindset of dead children. That was the moment Colin realized he could never escape his own mind.