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
A block ahead he saw a Denny’s sign towering over the sidewalk. He had some money in his pocket. He’d been sneaking a dollar or two a day out of his mother’s purse the last week, so he had enough for at least one good meal. Maybe he was closer to his destination than he thought. Maybe his dad was already preparing a meal for him for when he arrived, so if he spent all his money now on a restaurant meal, it wouldn’t matter.
He pitched the bagel and the container of peanut butter into a nearby trash can and got back on his bike, hiding it behind the Denny’s where it wouldn’t be stolen, then went around and in the front door, taking his backpack with him. He slipped into an empty booth.
After five minutes, a waitress approached and said, “You alone, kid?”
“No,” said Charlie. “My mom’s in the bathroom.”
“Okay,” she said skeptically. “Want some water?”
“Yes, please. A glass for me and a glass for my mom.”
The waitress disappeared for a moment and returned with two glasses of water. “Your mom still in the bathroom?”
Charlie nodded. “I think she’s constipated.”
The waitress nodded. “Well, that’s no fun. When she comes back I’ll take your or—”
“I know what she wants. She just wants coffee and some toast. She’s not a big eater. And I’ll have the Super Slam.”
“You can eat all that? It’s a lot of food.”
Charlie nodded. “And a chocolate shake.”
The waitress made a note. “Super Slam, chocolate shake, coffee, toast. How’s your mom take her coffee?”
“She likes Nespresso.”
The waitress gave Charlie a blank stare. “She want milk or cream? The sugar’s on the table.”
“Just whatever way it comes. You don’t have to worry. We have money.” Charlie dug some bills out of his pocket and dropped them onto the table, flashing a reassuring smile.
The waitress did not return it. “You might want to hit the bathroom yourself. Wash up.”
He looked at his grimy hands, making him wonder what the rest of him looked like. “When my mom comes back.”
The moment the waitress walked away, Charlie guzzled down both glasses of water. When the waitress returned with the coffee and dropped a couple of creamers onto the table, she eyed the empty water glass across from him but didn’t mention it.
“Your Super Slam is coming up.”
She brought it to the table two minutes later, along with the chocolate milkshake. “I’ll hold the toast and coffee till your mother gets back.”