BooksBarbecue
Back The Lighthouse Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. PART ONE
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 8
  9. 9
  10. 10
  11. 11
  12. PART TWO
  13. 12
  14. 14
  15. 15
  16. 16
  17. 18
  18. 19
  19. 21
  20. 22
  21. 23
  22. 24
  23. 25
  24. 26
  25. 27
  26. 28
  27. 30
  28. 31
  29. 32
  30. 33
  31. 34
  32. 35
  33. 36
  34. 37
  35. 38
  36. 39
  37. 40
  38. 41
  39. 42
  40. 43
  41. PART THREE
  42. 44
  43. 45
  44. 46
  45. 47
  46. 49
  47. 50
  48. 51
  49. 52
  50. EPILOGUE

Amy and Kevin were still admiring the scenery when the front door to the house swung open. A man hobbled onto the porch. He was smartly dressed, slight in build, and had a noticeable limp in his step.

Kevin acknowledged him with a polite wave before unclicking his seat belt and reaching for the case file. He tucked it under his arm, told Amy to sit tight for a bit, then stepped out of the car and made his way up the steps, stretching out a hand to the waiting man. “Mr. Porter? I’m Detective Tucker.”

“Good afternoon, Detective. Thank you for making the drive out.” Mr. Porter leaned on his cane as he came down a step to shake Kevin’s hand. “Come inside, and please, call me Roger.”

Kevin was led into the kitchen and offered a seat at a lime-green Formica table. The interior was sparse. There were no pictures hanging and what little furniture there was had been wrapped in plastic and slid against the walls. Scattered around were cardboard boxes, newspapers, and reams of bubble wrap.

Roger put a glass of water down in front of Kevin and awkwardly collapsed into his seat. “Excuse the mess, will you?”

“Moving someplace, Roger?”

“Have to, I’m afraid. Bank is foreclosing on me next week.”

“I heard about that. I’m very sorry.”

“Not your fault, Detective. They’ve given me time to sort out my affairs, and it’s for the best. I can’t run this place on my own—nor would I want to, not with my son gone. Doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

Roger looked around the room and mustered a brave smile, which wasn’t so much a smile but a faint turning up of the lips. Kevin could tell just by looking at the poor man that he had been through hell these past two months; he looked weak and tired, and his battle-­hardened face expressed nothing but grim emotion.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where will you go?”

“Up north, to Montana. My brother has a farm there. We both agreed it might be good for me to stay with him and his family for a while.”

He went on to explain that he and his brother hadn’t spoken in over twenty years, the unfortunate result of an old, long-­forgotten feud, but that his son’s death had prompted them to get back in touch. “And I’m glad we did,” he added.

Kevin shifted forward in his chair. “Roger, just so I’m clear, I’m not here because we’re pronouncing your son deceased.”

“I know, Detective. But his case is being closed, right? Isn’t that why you’ve come to see me?”

“I’m afraid so. With the way things stand, there’s nothing more we can do.”

•••