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
Standish pursed her lips thoughtfully. “As I said, it was an observation. And a sympathetic one, whether you choose to believe that. The stress, the grief, it must be incalculable.”
Annie said nothing.
“Are you under any kind of care?” Standish asked.
“Am I what?”
“A counselor? A therapist? A psychiatrist?”
Annie slowly rose out of the chair. “Get out,” she said.
Standish remained seated. “Please, Ms. Blunt, I mean no offense. I’m simply—”
“Get out!” Annie said again, and this time Standish stood. “Is this how they do things here? When your son goes missing they accuse you of having something to do with it?”
“I’ve made no such accusation.”
“Well, there’s a fuck-ton of insinuation in the air.”
“We’re going to go through the house now,” Standish said matter-of-factly.
“What? I’ve been through the house. Charlie’s not here! I’ve looked. His bike is gone! Why are you—”
Standish raised a hand. “You’ll stay out here while we take a look.” She waved one of the other officers over, directed him with her thumb to head inside.
“You have no right to—”
“I’m not asking.”
With that, Standish turned and followed the other officer into the house, leaving Annie standing there, shell-shocked.
It was the longest day.
Police from neighboring counties came in to join the hunt, which was expanded from roadways to nearby forests. Once the police were done with searching the house—Annie could only assume they believed she’d killed her own son and were looking for, if not his actual body, some evidence he’d died on the premises—they allowed her to come back inside.
Standish insisted she stay on the property and allow others to conduct the search. At one point, a van with action news emblazoned on the side was parked down at the end of the driveway. From the porch, Annie could see Standish being interviewed by a young woman with big hair who was accompanied by a cameraman. When the reporter failed to come up to the house to get a quote from her, Annie could only assume Standish had not permitted it. Didn’t want the media interviewing their prime suspect, Annie guessed.
Okay, sure, there had been a lot of shit happening in her fucking orbit, Annie conceded. But this—this was just lazy police work. Without any evidence, they were zeroing in on her because it was convenient. And whatever energy they were focusing on her wasn’t being directed toward finding Charlie.
Oh, John, I wish you were here.