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
The microwave tinged. Janice slipped on an oven mitt to bring out the plate, peeled off the plastic wrap, and put it on the table. “Thanks,” Harry said, sitting down. “I’m gonna hoover this.”
Janice took a seat across from him. “I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” he said, blowing on a forkful of pasta before putting it into his mouth.
“You’re exhausted. This Angus Tanner thing is wearing you down. Can’t you get help from, I don’t know, the FBI?”
He shrugged. “I’ve called. Everything’s taking a backseat to anti-terrorism. First all those planes, then everybody losing their shit over those letters that maybe were loaded with anthrax. You think anyone outside of Lucknow cares about one murder and a couple of men still missing, one who was pretty much the town drunk? The things keeping me up at night, I don’t even know how to explain what the hell they’re about.”
He shoveled more lasagna into his mouth, washed it down with more beer. He set the bottle down, rested the fork on the side of his plate, and went quiet.
“Talk to me, Harry.”
“For a long time, I wondered if maybe I made the right decision, about never moving away, staying in the town where I grew up, becoming a cop, working my way up to chief. Did I settle? Doesn’t everybody have to go someplace else to become something? Could I have been more?”
Janice smiled sadly. “You’ve been talking to Melissa.”
Harry sighed. “Busted.”
“You think you’d have been happier working for the FBI, having to go all over the country, being transferred to North Dakota, dealing with a massive bureaucracy? Is that what you would have wanted? Don’t ever, ever discount what you do for the people of Lucknow. You make a difference here.” She put her hand over his for a moment. “That’s what matters. You help folks, one-on-one, and I could not be more proud walking the streets of this town knowing you’re my husband.”
He looked off to one side. “Yeah, well.” He got the last piece of lasagna onto his fork, popped it into his mouth, and finished off the beer. He was picking up the plate to take to the sink when Janice grabbed him by the wrist. She stood, took the plate from his hand and put it on the table, slid her arms around him, pulled him close to her. She tilted her head up and put her lips on his.
“Take me upstairs,” she said.