Chapters (38)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Acknowledgements
- Chapter 1 - Wednesday afternoon, April 6, 1988
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3 - DEBORAH UNRUH
- Chapter 4 - Thursday morning, April 7, 1988
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6 - DEBORAH UNRUH
- Chapter 7 - Thursday afternoon, April 7, 1988
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9 - WALKER MCNALLY
- Chapter 10 - Friday, April 8, 1988
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12 - WALKER MCNALLY
- Chapter 13 - Monday, April 11, 1988
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15 - JON CORSO
- Chapter 16 - Wednesday, April 13, 1988
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18 - JON CORSO
- Chapter 19 - Wednesday afternoon, April 13, 1988
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21 - DEBORAH UNRUH
- Chapter 22 - Thursday night, April 14, 1988
- Chapter 23 - Friday afternoon, April 15, 1988
- Chapter 24 - WALKER MCNALLY
- Chapter 25 - Monday, April 18, 1988
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27 - JON CORSO
- Chapter 28 - Wednesday afternoon, April 20, 1988
- Chapter 29 - WALKER MCNALLY
- Chapter 30 - Wednesday evening, April 20, 1988
- Chapter 31 - JON CORSO
- Chapter 32 - Thursday, April 21, 1988
- Chapter 33 - Thursday, April 21, 1988
- EPILOGUE
“My problem . . . and this is a tough one, Walker . . . it really is . . . I can’t afford the tab. Your purging your conscience is going to cost more than I want to pay. You go to the cops, you know the story you’ll tell? You’ll make me the fall guy. How can you resist? You already said it was my idea, that I was the instigator while you followed orders. What kind of horseshit is that? How does it make me look? What wiggle room does it give my defense attorney if the law ever catches up with me? You’ll rat me out and you’ll be a hero while I take the rap. I mean, does that seem right? Think about it. You were in it the same as I was—every step of the way. You never once spoke up. You never expressed any reservations at all—until now.”
“Times change, Jon. I’ve changed.”
“But I haven’t.” He held his hand out. “Look at this. Steady as she goes. No wavering on my part. No ambivalence, no getting all weepy-minded. You’re the fly in the ointment, if you’ll excuse the cliché.”
Walker recoiled in mock horror. “So what are you going to do, rub me out?”
“Pretty much.”
Walker offered up a flickering smile. “You can’t be serious. You think silencing me will protect you?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“What about Sutton?”
Jon stared at him.
Walker blanched. “Oh, shit, what did you do?”
“Shot him,” I said, raising my voice. I’d reached the top of the hill, which was utterly without cover. They couldn’t fail to notice my arrival so I figured I might as well speak up. In a heartbeat, Walker realized who I was. Jon was slower on the uptake. He looked at Walker. “Who’s this?”
I crossed the grass. “Kinsey Millhone. I’m an old high school class-mate. You probably don’t remember me, but I remember you.”
I had my gun in hand. I wasn’t pointing it at anybody, but I thought it would be effective nonetheless.
Jon said, “This doesn’t concern you.”
“Yes, it does. Michael Sutton was a friend of mine.”
He noticed my gun for the first time and nodded. “Is that thing loaded?”
“Well, I could end up looking foolish if it weren’t.”
Casually, he removed a gun from his windbreaker pocket and pointed it at me. “I’m telling you to get the fuck off this hill before I shoot you.”