BooksBarbecue
Back Whistle
Chapters (73)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. Part IAnnie
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Part IIHarry
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Ten
  16. Eleven
  17. Twelve
  18. Thirteen
  19. Fourteen
  20. Fifteen
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-One
  27. Part IIIAnnie
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Part IVHarry
  40. Thirty-Three
  41. Thirty-Four
  42. Thirty-Five
  43. Thirty-Six
  44. Thirty-Seven
  45. Thirty-Eight
  46. Thirty-Nine
  47. Forty
  48. Forty-One
  49. Forty-Two
  50. Forty-Three
  51. Forty-Four
  52. Forty-Five
  53. Forty-Six
  54. Forty-Seven
  55. Forty-Eight
  56. Part VAnnie
  57. Forty-Nine
  58. Fifty
  59. Fifty-One
  60. Fifty-Two
  61. Fifty-Three
  62. Fifty-Four
  63. Fifty-Five
  64. Fifty-Six
  65. Fifty-Seven
  66. Fifty-Eight
  67. Fifty-Nine
  68. Sixty
  69. Sixty-One
  70. Acknowledgments
  71. About the Author
  72. Also by Linwood Barclay
  73. About the Publisher

Steph had been right. You had to look at the picture for a moment. It was like those so-called 3D “magic eye” posters from the nineties, where if you stared at them long enough you saw a hidden image.

It was like when her inspirational pane of glass would appear. Only the edge visible at first, but then the glass began to turn. And Annie saw something take shape in the folds of the backdrop fabric.

For a second, and then it was gone. She would blink a couple of times, and it would reappear. Then vanish. She’d squint, and it was back again.

A face, but not human. More like a rat, or maybe a wolf. Or a combination of the two.

Annie knew this face.

She shoved the pictures back into the drawer and slammed it shut.

Dawn, she thought as she went upstairs to her bedroom. At dawn, we are getting the fuck out of here.

The next morning, when she got up, Charlie was gone.

Thirty-One

Annie had one of the worst sleeps of her life, woke up for good at five, and shortly before six decided to jump out of bed and get moving.

Before heading downstairs, she showered, dressed, and packed up her clothes. Filled the two suitcases she’d brought for herself, gathered up all her items in the bathroom. Stripped the sheets from the bed, tucking them into a pillowcase, and threw the cover back on. Candace could put on a fresh set when she rented this place out to someone else—if she even did.

Then she entered the studio. Her work area had been set up by Finnegan before her arrival, so much of what was here duplicated what she had at home. And yet, it seemed wrong to leave everything here. What were the odds Candace would find another artist/illustrator to take the place? And wasn’t it borderline disrespectful to Finnegan to let all this stuff be pitched? She would have to think about this. There were some empty grocery bags in the kitchen to pack up some brushes and paints and whatnot.

She had a moment’s hesitation about taking home the illustrations of her latest creation, as well as the six-inch tall figure she’d made of it. In the last couple of days, she had put the finishing touches to it. Detailed the trench coat, perfected the hairy, claw-like paws or hands extending from the sleeves and pant legs. Worked on those menacing eyes, the sharp teeth.

If anyone had asked her the day before whether she would take this work home with her, she wouldn’t have hesitated.