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Then she turned the corner and a short, dark-complexioned man holding a hose blinked in surprise and said, “Buenos dias, Mrs. McKenzie.”
“Morning, Juan. Where is he? I saw his truck.”
“In the shed.”
She walked past several piles of mulch, fifteen feet high. A worker in a Bobcat was stirring it, to prevent spontaneous combustion. It could actually smolder up a storm of smoke if you didn’t. The rich smell surrounded her. She continued on to the shed, really a small barn, and walked through the open door.
“I’ll be with you in a second,” Graham Boyd said, looking up from a workbench. He was wearing safety goggles and, she realized, seeing only her silhouette. He’d be thinking she was a customer. He returned to his task. She noted that the carpentry was part of an expansion project and he seemed to be doing the work himself. That was Graham. Even after he’d moved the last of his things out of their house he’d returned to finish the kitchen tiling. And had done a damn good job of it.
Then he was looking up again. Realizing who she was. He set the board down and took the goggles off. “Hi.”
She nodded.
He frowned. “Everything okay with Joey?”
“Oh, sure, fine.”
He joined her. They didn’t embrace. He squinted, looking at her cheek.
“You had that surgery?”
“Vanity.”
“You can’t see a thing. How’s it feel?”
“Inside’s tender. Have to watch what I eat.” She looked around the building. “You’re expanding.”
“Just doing what should’ve been done a long time ago. A
“She said. More house-ridden than she needs to be. The doctors want her to walk more. I want her out more too.” She laughed.
“And Joey’s been off skateboards without a cop present, hmm? Grandma gave me a report.”
“That’s a capital crime in the house now. And I’ve got spies. They tell me he’s clean. He’s really into lacrosse now.”
“I saw that special. About Michelle Kepler and the murders.”
“On WKSP. That’s right.”
“There were some cops from Milwaukee. They said they‘d arrested her. You didn’t even get mentioned. Not by name.”
“I didn’t go along for the party. I was off that night.”
“You?”
She nodded.
“Didn’t they interview you, at least? The reporters?”
“What do I need publicity for?” Bry
Nervous now, nervous all last night-after her mother had said she’d “run into” Graham at the senior center, and Bry
“So, come on, Mom. What is this, a campaign to get us back together?”
“Hell, yes, and it’s one I aim to win.”
“It’s not that easy, not that simple.”
“When’ve you ever wanted easy? Your brother and sister, yes. Not you.”
“Okay, I was thinking about going to see him.”
“Tomorrow.”
“I’m not ready.”
“Tomorrow.”
A worker stuck his head in and asked Graham a question. He answered in Spanish. All Bry
He turned back, said nothing.
Okay. Now.
“Just wondering,” she said. “I’m on break. You’ve been up since six, I’ll bet. And I’ve been up since six. Just wondered if you wanted to get coffee. Or something.”
And, she was thinking, to spend some time talking.
Telling him more about what happened that night in April.
And telling him a lot of other things too. Whatever he’d listen to, she’d tell him.
Just like a few weeks ago when she’d sat in the backyard with Keith and done the same. Part confession, part apology, part just plain talking. Her ex, though cautious at first, had been pleased to listen. She wondered if her present husband would. She surely hoped so.
Several heartbeats of pause. “Sure,” he said. “Let me finish this board.”
“Okay. I’ll be at the diner.”
Graham turned away. And then stopped. He looked back at her, shook his head, frowning.
Bry
Graham Boyd had been flustered at first, seeing her just appear like this. He’d agreed impulsively, not knowing what to make of her invitation. Now, reality had returned. He was recalling his own anger and pain from that night in April. And from the months leading up to it.
He had no interest in whatever she was up to here.
Ah, well, she couldn’t blame him one bit. The moment for conversations of the sort she had pla
Flawed jaw set and fixed cheek taut, Bry
She blinked. “Where is it?”
“Downstairs, next to Sears. I’ll be ten minutes.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A former journalist, folksinger and attorney, Jeffery Deaver is an international number one best-selling author. His novels have appeared on a number of best-seller lists around the world, including The New York Times, The Times of London and the Los Angeles Times. His books are sold in 150 countries and translated into 25 languages. The author of twenty-three novels and two collections of short stories, he’s been awarded the Steel Dagger and Short Story Dagger from the British Crime Writers’ Association, is a three-time recipient of the Ellery Queen Reader’s Award for Best Short Story of the Year and is a wi
Deaver is presently writing the second in the series featuring Kathryn Dance, who had her book-length debut in last year’s The Sleeping Doll, to be published in 2009, and the next Lincoln Rhyme novel for 2010.
Readers can visit his Web site at www.jefferydeaver.com.