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Back The Hallows
Chapters (89)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. CONTENTS
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. 76
  81. 77
  82. 78
  83. 79
  84. 80
  85. 81
  86. 82
  87. 83
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

He chuckled. “Boy, you really do live in a fantasy land, don’t you? No one has a love of their life. That’s why people are miserable. They think they’re gonna find their soul mate, and they toss whatever good they do have waiting for one, and when one doesn’t come, it leaves ’em empty.”

“Thanks for your pontificating, Socrates. Now how about we discuss how you killed my mother.”

He climbed out of bed, rage in his eyes. “I,” he said slowly, “did everything I could for that woman. I worked my fingers to the bone to make sure she never had to work, I gave up trips and cars and everything I ever wanted to make sure we had enough money for her medications. For years I went without affection or intimacy because I wanted to stay loyal to her. But there’s only so much a man can take. I was lonely.”

“Everyone’s lonely, Adam.” I folded my arms. “Did you go after her? Did you even try to stop her?”

“Stop her? What the hell you talkin’ about? I didn’t even know until I got a call at work that they’d found her body.”

“How . . .” The words choked me, and I had to stay silent a second before I could speak. “How did she do it?”

Adam rubbed his chin and looked down to the floor. “She, um . . . she went up to the Hallows with some pills. When they got there, she’d been dead awhile. There was nothing they could do.”

My eyes grew wet, and it felt like my throat was closing up. I had to swallow to make sure I still could. “She . . . killed herself at the Hallows?” I said quietly.

He nodded and looked at me. “Yeah.”

In a flash, the pain, as it sometimes did, turned to anger. And all that anger was directed at the man standing in front of me. The man whom I blamed, whether fairly or unfairly, for the death of my mother.

“How many women?”

“What does it matter?”

“How many? How many did she know about?”

“None of your damn business.”

“How many?”

He tried to push past me, but I wouldn’t let him. “How many did she know about?”

“Get outa my way.”

“No! How many?”

“Get outa my way. I’m not going to ask again.”

“No. How many!”

He reached back and slapped me across the face.

The room turned silent, even the sound of our breathing muted. We stared at each other, and I saw the rage in his eyes start to dissipate. I took a step back and then left the house.

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