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Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
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  80. 79
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  85. 84
  86. 85
  87. 86
  88. 87
  89. 88
  90. 89
  91. 90
  92. 91
  93. 92
  94. Also by DAVID KLASS
  95. Copyright Page

A few lines of poetry come to me in the silence of the jail cell night. Always loved poetry. Read a good poem once, remember it forever. This is from “To Althea, from Prison” by Richard Lovelace:

Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.

But unfortunately I don’t have a quiet and innocent mind. I have a troubled one, tortured and in tumult. The reason I fled from Hadley six months ago without trying to contact P.J. and my other friends was to avoid endangering them. I sensed that if I reached out for help to those who cared for me, I would be dragging them into whatever dark hole was opening around me.

So I ran, to Manhattan and then to North Carolina, and finally to the open ocean, and my only consolation was that my friends, my teammates, and especially my girlfriend were slumbering on in Hadley, safe and oblivious.

And now P.J.’s missing. Maybe it’s a coincidence. Maybe she ran away to try to start a career as an artist in a big city. Or perhaps she was kidnapped and the ransom demand has been long in arriving.

Dream on. It’s not a coincidence. There’s only one way her disappearance makes sense. Her parents are right. This must be linked to me. But who took her? And why?

Footsteps approach. The door to the cell block opens and shuts. Big shadow. Loud footsteps. Chief Parker.

He unlocks my cell. Steps inside. “Hello, Jack.”

“Hello, sir. What happened to P.J.?”

“We’ll get to that,” he promises as he locks us in together. “How do you feel?”

“I’m okay. My wrists hurt.”

“That’s too bad. How does it feel to be a celebrity?”

I look back at him. “Huh?”

“You’re already on the evening news. The FBI is sending a team from Manhattan. They should be here in about an hour. And reporters are heading our way, too.”

“The FBI?”

“They’ll take it right out of my hands. Small-town police chief. Multiple-murder suspect. Missing teen queen. Lotta bigwigs are gonna see an opportunity. Push me right out of the way. So you know what’s gonna happen first?”

I shake my head very slowly.

“You’re going to tell me everything. Come, sit down.”

4

4

Chief Parker pushes me back to the cot. He sits on the one chair. “Let’s have a chat. You want to go first?”

“You said I was a multiple-murder suspect?”

“The autopsy on your mom was not conclusive, but the medical examiner was pretty sure it wasn’t the burning house that killed her. A burning house doesn’t chop a woman nearly in half.”

I fall off the cot to my knees. Throw up.