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

Annie killed the light and put her head down onto the pillow.

At some point, she felt a stirring beside her. A familiar feeling. One she had not experienced in several months.

She turned over in bed and opened her eyes. It was dark, but the streetlamps’ glow filtering through the blinds allowed her to see.

John was in the bed next to her, his head propped up on his palm, elbow dug into the mattress.

He smiled at her and said, “Don’t go, Annie. Don’t go.”

Annie woke up, sat up in bed, put her hand to her chest, and felt her heart beating so quickly she thought it might burn out.

Four

Annie had the car loaded shortly before eleven, and after advising Charlie to go to the bathroom one last time (good advice for Annie, too) they hit the road. It took the better part of half an hour to get out of the city, heading south and picking up the Holland Tunnel that took her under the Hudson River and into New Jersey. She followed without question the verbal instructions from her in-dash GPS companion, a woman Annie had, in her head, named Sherpa because she was such an excellent guide.

Annie was not the most confident driver. Having grown up in the city, she had never held a driver’s license and never learned to drive when she was in her teens. Her father had an old Ford, but, what with taxis and buses and subways and the nightmare of trying to find a place to park, Annie had figured if she did have a license, she wouldn’t make use of it. But when the money started coming in, and they moved into the Bank Street address, John thought it was finally time to have some wheels. With a car, they could head out of town on weekends. They had friends who lived out in the Hamptons. They could rent that Cape Cod beach house they’d always dreamed of spending part of the summer in. Annie said fine, okay, I’ll get a license, I’ll learn to drive, but don’t ask me to like it.

And she didn’t. But she could do it. It was the downtown driving she hated most. Once she got out of the city, hit the interstate, and could put the BMW on cruise control, wander the Sirius dial, sampling everything from Springsteen to punk, well, then she could endure it.

What she missed was having someone up front with her.

Charlie was still, for safety reasons, riding in the backseat on a booster seat that allowed him a better view out his window.

When she and John traveled, regardless of who was sitting behind the wheel, all she had to do was turn her head if she had something on her mind, something she wanted to talk about.

But these days, all conversations were conducted over her right shoulder.