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
“So the pressure was on that we get married, and while Dolores’s folks were ready to disown her, my mom and dad were more what you’d call supportive. Dad said we need to build you a house, and he bought that parcel of land over there.” He pointed a long, bony finger at his place. “Your place was here. It’d been here a long time. Not fixed up nice the way it is now, updated and all. That fellow that lived here and his wife—they were both photographers of some sort—did some upgrades, but I think I’m wandering off topic here.”
“Take your time.”
“Me and Dolores got married right away and lived at my folks, and by the time she was ready to have the baby the house was done. Moved in, been here ever since.” He suddenly looked proud, his chest swelling. “That’s our house and it always will be.”
But just as quickly his eyes seemed to mist over. He gazed out over the yard, not really focusing on anything.
“Dolores’d mostly been what you might call a stay-at-home mom, but she’d always been one to take the odd job here and there. For some time there, she baked out of the home and they sold her cakes and pastries at a place in Fenelon. She liked that. When our kids were in high school she got work at the IGA, cashier mostly. And she’d do housecleaning for folks. She wasn’t proud. When the folks that lived here asked if she’d do that for them, I said, hey, do you really want to clean house for your neighbors? And she said, what are you talking about? You think they’re better than us? A dollar’s a dollar. I didn’t have any argument for that. So that’s what she did. Cleaned over here once a week for about three months before it happened.”
Annie tensed, feeling that he was working up to something, but said nothing.
“I was home. Happened to look out the window, see Mrs. Anderson running over here fast as she can. I meet her on the porch and she’s saying come quick, something’s not right with Dolores. So I go running after her. I was younger then, in better shape—this was more than twenty years ago, what I’m telling you about—and was able to keep up with her, and even before I got to the house I could hear the screaming. Never heard a sound like that come out of my Dolores.”
Just tell me what happened.