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Back The Devils You Know Save as PDF
Chapters (46)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. PRAISE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  45. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  46. SNEAK PEEK: EXIT .45

Assuming he was some kind of special-ops guy. She had no idea. There was something about him, though. She recalled him sitting in her father’s car that morning, arm hanging out the window and his jaw tensing and relaxing like it powered some clock inside his head. Then he’d seen her, and he’d clicked out of it, and there was a different person behind his eyes.

She fetched her overnight bag from the back of the SUV and went inside. She could hear Freeman talking on the phone, and as she went past his office she saw him on his sofa, eyes shut and pinching his nose as he said, ‘That timeframe is just not achievable. There’s no way we can comply with that …’ He had a period drama—maybe Downton Abbey—playing on the TV, no sound.

Her father’s office was at the end of the corridor. She picked up a pen from his desk and started to write him a note on a legal pad, but then thought better of it. He might not approve of her borrowing stationery. She tore off the top sheet and balled the evidence, then set the pen and the legal pad as they were. She composed a note on her own paper and with her own pen:

Dad,

My talk was cancelled, so I’m back at the house for a couple of days. Let’s have dinner tonight if you’re free? Let me know.

Erin

He might not even see it, but too bad. At least she could say she’d made the offer. She went downstairs to her ground-floor room and opened the sliding glass door to the pool. She had a phone interview in an hour—a pre-recorded session with an LA radio station—and she knew it was better not to think about it. She always felt more convincing if she didn’t prepare. Rehearsed lines lacked sincerity. Better to take her mind off it. She phoned Chicago.

Sometimes when she called the old number, Alex would get to it first, and they would have thirty minutes of normal conversation. Mostly though—maybe seven times in ten—her ex-husband would pick up, and she would labour through five minutes of small talk, all the pauses rich with quiet judgement.

Tony answered.

Erin said, ‘Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to speak to Alex.’ Like a breezy, smooth opener might get her through the moment without friction.

He said, ‘We saw you on the news last night.’