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
Sike disconnected the call, leaving Colin wondering how many more years he’d need on the job to reach the mental ease associated with such acute cynicism.
He hoped never, but knew that was unlikely.
Forty
Bury, New Hampshire
November 10
The harbinger of my apocalypse is a dead poodle.
The moment I hear about the slaughter of the dog, something clicks into place in my mind, and not in a good way. A sudden certainty that my life path—carved from billions of decisions and actions—is now on an ineluctable course toward doom.
I’m working checkout at Tuli’s when a familiar customer leapfrogs past the small talk as I ring up her groceries.
“Did you hear about that awful incident?”
My mind goes to something national. A shooting somewhere. Maybe some worse-than-normal political story. I intake the news in small doses, and not daily ones, trying to keep the balance between being informed and overwhelmed by the ugliness of the world. In the last few months, I’ve hardly paid attention. My life has enough of its own dark melodrama.
“No,” I say, hoping she won’t tell me. But she does.
“Do you know Tasha Collins?”
Bury is small, but it still has several thousand residents. Maybe Tasha Collins is more popular than I realize, but the odds in this situation are I wouldn’t know her.
“Yeah, actually, I do. What about her?”
The woman shakes her head, her salt-and-pepper hair shimmying against her shoulders. She casts her gaze down.
“It’s just so awful. So, so awful.”
And in that split second, I’m thinking Tasha is dead. It has to be that. Tasha had some terrible accident. Car crash, maybe. And then I think of her boy. Oh god, let Micah be okay. My mind races with possibilities. I need to call Alec. See if he’s—
“Someone killed her dog,” the woman says.
“What?”
She looks up, the excitement of the story betrayed in the gleam of her eyes.
“Killed. Like, with a knife.”
I stop scanning her groceries. “What are you talking about?”
She places a hand on the laminate counter separating us, as if she needs to hold on for the ride.
“It happened the day before yesterday. It was in the online version of the Bury Gazette this morning, and I know someone who’s friends with her. Acquaintances at least. Neighbors, but they aren’t really that—”
“What happened?”
She purses her lips and gives a surreptitious glance to each side. There’s no one else in my checkout line.
“Somehow the dog got out of the backyard. The gate was found open, so maybe someone just came and took the thing. But whatever happened, they found the dog on the green belt behind the elementary school, over a mile away.” She leans forward and whispers the next part. “The poor thing’s throat had been cut.”
“Oh my god.”
She nods. “It must have been awful. With all that white fur and… Well, I just can’t imagine. But now, everyone is freaking out. Rumors about animal sacrifice. Satanic things. Here, in Bury. I don’t even understand it. I mean, who would do such a thing?”