Chapters (65)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- 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
- 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
- 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
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- Also by Becky Masterman
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
As he had watched the progress of the case with Dick Hickock and Perry Smith back then, there had been headlines about the two changing their confession. Smith took the rap for killing all the Clutters. This was a sure sign to Beaufort that he was in the clear. Hickock must have agreed, maybe figuring that he’d at least escape the death penalty.
But when the verdict came in, and the penalty for both of them was execution, things weren’t so clear-cut anymore. Beaufort watched the weeks go by with the pair not talking, but the gnawing at his mind grew worse despite, maybe because of, their silence. He felt confident of Smith, but what of Hickock?
“I had to send a message to Hickock, that he needed to keep up his side of the bargain no matter what,” Beaufort said to Achilles. “I didn’t have a choice.” Achilles turned his head and gazed at Beaufort, who felt like he was being hugged with the look. Beaufort hadn’t felt this way before, not even with Gloria. He stroked the soft fur from Achilles’s neck to the spot where the dog’s tail sprouted. Achilles rolled over onto his back for a tummy rub, and Beaufort obliged.
Beaufort had done what he had to do, and when it was reported in the Garden City newspaper, he clipped out the article and put it in his shirt pocket. He thumbed a ride a safe distance from the home where Hickock had lived with his parents, and where Mrs. Hickock lived alone now that the father was dead. Beaufort walked the rest of the way, off the road close to the trees and tall shrubs that lined it, so as not to risk ever being discovered.
When he got to the house it was early evening and the lights were on, so he was able to easily see Mrs. Hickock sitting at the kitchen table. When he snuck in the door that led straight to the kitchen, he saw she was just sitting there, staring at her hands clasped on the tabletop. Intent, as if the hands held a secret that they weren’t giving up. So intent was she that it was easy for Beaufort to come up behind her.
She jumped when he brought his hands down firmly on her shoulders.
“Don’t turn around,” he said in his deepest voice, which you’d never think would go with his stature and his boyish face.
When he thought that she would obey, he said, “I want you to visit your son, Dick. I want you to tell him that he better keep his mouth shut.”
“I don’t under—” the woman began.