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
“Well, it’s red. The water’s dark red, like, well . . . You don’t see that in the real world unless it’s downriver from a chemical plant or something. And this little row of rocks, bordering this garden?”
Chuffchuffchuffchuffchuff went the train as it wound its way through the scenery.
“Yes?”
“They kinda . . . they kinda look like teeth, Mr. Choo.”
“They do, don’t they. Look what’s coming your way.”
Gavin gazed down the track at the approaching train. The steam engine’s smokestack was furiously pumping out puffs of white vapor. A whistle sounded, followed by a clanging bell. Gavin, no longer focused on the blood-like water and rocks that looked like teeth, was briefly transfixed.
“Those tank cars look just like the ones that pass through town every day,” he observed. The train sped past tall grasses that had been planted at the track’s edge, and Gavin found himself running the tips of his fingers over them. “The grass is so . . . fine. What’s that made of? Is that corn silk or something?”
“Look at the train, Gavin.”
Chuffchuffchuffchuffchuff
Gavin, seemingly without realizing it, was twirling his fingers through his hair. “I was asking because it also reminds me of—”
“Look at the train.”
Chuffchuffchuffchuffchuff
Gavin grew so mesmerized with the train’s passage that he failed to notice when his foot bumped into the cardboard box with the last of the bones in it. A bit of Angus Tanner in there, as well as the still-missing Walter Hillman, one dumb goat, and any number of pets that were the subject of “Have You Seen . . .” leaflets staple-gunned to lampposts around Lucknow.
The steam engine had belched out so much faux-smoke that Gavin was waving his hand in front of his face, trying to keep it out of his eyes and nose. A layer of white mist was filling the room, making it look more like the venue for half a dozen nicotine-addicted poker players.
Gavin began to cough. The smoke was clouding Edwin’s vision and working its way up his nose, too, although it didn’t bother him in the slightest.
Chuffchuffchuffchuffchuff
As Gavin bowed his head, tucking his face into his elbow as he coughed again, he noticed for the first time the container of bones.
“Jesus, Mr. Choo, what the hell’s this? If I didn’t know better, I’d say those look like . . .” But Gavin, suddenly unable to breathe, could not finish his sentence.
Edwin did not bother to explain. Gavin was already dropping to the floor.
Seventeen
Harry was wrung out by the time he got home.
He trudged through the door, took his weapon from his belt, and put it on the top shelf of the front hall closet, as was his routine. He walked slowly into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, then went out onto the back patio, dropped into a chair, and twisted the cap off the bottle.