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
“I’ve been hearing some things,” Jenny said, putting in front of him a plate with two pancakes stacked on it. She leaned in close enough to whisper. “Out Miller’s Road way. Lots of flashing lights.”
Well, there you go, Harry thought. Word was already getting around.
“People talk,” he said, shrugging. “Thanks for the pancakes. Got some extra syrup?”
She reached down the counter, brought back a bottle, and set it in front of him. “I heard you found something. Or somebody. Emphasis on body.”
Harry was about to reply when the woman in the green pantsuit, who had left moments earlier, came back in and asked Jenny, “Did anybody turn in a lipstick?”
“What’s that, sugar?”
“A lipstick. Thought I left it on the table, but it’s not there.”
“Sorry. If somebody finds it I’ll hang on to it, give it to you next time you’re in.” The woman left, and Jenny focused again on Harry. “You were going to tell me about a body.”
“You asked about a body,” he said. “I can neither confirm nor deny what you’re saying.” He lifted up the top pancake so he could pour syrup on the bottom one, then drenched the top one, too.
“When you say that, you’re basically confirming it,” she said.
“Not true,” he said, cutting the pancakes with the side of his fork and taking a bite, then washing it down with coffee.
“Okay, suppose I asked whether it was true that Osama bin Laden is hiding out in Lucknow, serving ice cream down at the Frostee Freeze. Would you say the same thing, that you can’t confirm or deny, when we all know it’s a crock of shit?”
“Jenny, if you have information that bin Laden is working at the Frostee Freeze, you have an obligation to come forward with that. If you don’t want to tell me, then you should get on the phone ASAP to Homeland Security. There might be a reward.”
“Oh, forget it,” she said, then grabbed the coffeepot and went to refill someone else’s mug. On her way back, she pulled a bacon sandwich from under the heat lamp and set it next to his plate after slipping it into a white paper bag. He’d already killed off one of his pancakes and was downing the last of his coffee when he dug out his wallet. Jenny said, “You got a tab, remember? Just go. We’ll settle up later. Go sort out that shit you can’t confirm or deny.”