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
“It doesn’t matter. He’ll understand. And he’ll understand when you tell him that if he doesn’t keep his mouth shut people he loves will be hurt bad. You.” He slowly lifted his hands from her shoulders, but she seemed frozen in place. He drew the newspaper article out of his pocket and tossed it on the table in front of her eyes where she could read it without moving her head. “Show this to him. It’s my guarantee,” he said, and slipped out the back door while she read it.
It wasn’t nearly as sensational as all the news surrounding the Clutter family murders and subsequent capture and trial of Hickock and Smith. Just a small article, an incident that nobody thought critical to the public well-being. Just a kid’s prank, they must have thought.
Ten dogs had been poisoned around Garden City.
“You know I’d never hurt you, don’t you, boy?” Beaufort said, getting to his feet. That seemed good enough for Achilles. He rolled the ball into his mouth and stood up, ready to go home.
Thirty–four
Down at the corner of Oracle and Golder Ranch Road there’s a shop that caters to the wealthy enclave of Saddlebrooke, about five miles to the north, selling local art and doing a first-rate job of custom framing. That’s where we take our occasional business, so when Drew from Framing and More called with a question about “the job,” I thought I was only having a senior lapse.
“What job?” I asked. “Did I forget I gave you something to frame?”
“No, your husband did.”
I haven’t totally lost my brain. I knew immediately this was an anniversary gift, but I had more serious things on my mind at the moment. “Tell you what, he’s down at Starizona getting some telescope computer thing fixed. Could I ask you to call again in a couple of hours? I think this is supposed to be a surprise.”
“Oh, sorry. It’s not actually finished, I just had a question about what I should do with the letter I found between the sketch and the cardboard backing. Carlo didn’t say anything about the letter.”
Sketch? A letter behind the sketch that Carlo didn’t know about? What the hell? My attention swerved. “What sketch?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What’s the sketch of?”
“It’s a man’s face. Done in pencil.”
“You know my husband. Is it him?”
Drew paused, like taking a second look. “No way.”
“What does the letter say?”
“It starts out, ‘To whom it may concern…’”
“Yes?”
“‘My name is Richard Eugene Hickock. I—’”
“Holy shit,” I said.
“What? You know this guy?” Drew asked.