Chapters (73)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Part IAnnie
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Part IIHarry
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Part IIIAnnie
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part IVHarry
- 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
- Part VAnnie
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Also by Linwood Barclay
- About the Publisher
What was it Gavin had said the owner’s name was? Edwin or Edgar. Something like that. And he was out front of the store, looking as ridiculous as he had when Harry’d met him briefly that other morning, wearing his engineer’s cap and vest adorned with various railway patches. Harry chided himself for his harsh judgment. Mr. Choo was in uniform. This was what he wore to draw attention to what he was selling, no different than Gary Featherstone down at the menswear store looking smart in a three-piece suit, or Len at the bakery in his hairnet and apron.
Harry staked out a spot out front of the store, a few feet into the street, folded his arms across his chest, and watched this Mr. Choo do his pitch in front of about ten kids, mostly boys, and several adults. On a broad table, he had set up two loops of track, one within the other, and was running two trains in opposite directions.
“ . . . and believe me, it’s not just the kids who love them!” Mr. Choo said, which sparked some laughs among the adults. One woman whispered into her husband’s ear, and he nodded, gave her a look that seemed to say, Guilty as charged.
“Steam engines, diesel, I’ve got whatever you might want,” Mr. Choo said. He waved his arm at a stack of packaged train sets. “You get one of these, and everything is included. An engine, some cars, lots of track, and a transformer to make it all go. And that’s just the start! There’s so much you can add! Switches and sidings and buildings. I’ve got it all. These trains are something you actually play with. Connect the track pieces, mix-and-match engines. It’s not like some video game, where you just sit on the couch and press some buttons. That’s not my kind of fun, let me tell you.”
A boy was tugging at his father’s sleeve. Another was pleading with his mother. Wallets were coming out.
As Harry watched, Mr. Choo sold five sets. They were going as fast as the bakery’s chocolate chip muffins. The guy was a true carnival barker.
This, Harry thought, had to be where Auden’s birthday present had been purchased. Not that Harry intended to mention to Mr. Choo how no train set, no matter how grand, would have been enough to lift Auden’s spirits on that horrible day.
Harry was about to speak to Mr. Choo when he spotted a familiar face. Walking past was a man in his mid-thirties with his wife and young daughter, whose hand he was hanging on to tightly.