“Then he put the gun in my hand. He told me he wanted me to take it with us in the car, in case anything happened. I might need it to protect Betsy, he said. That’s what my life had come to, Lincoln-a life where my husband gave me a gun to protect my daughter as we fled in the night. Why? Because the bastard was so damn greedy. And he’d never even told me, Lincoln. He’d never told me what he did. We lived our happy, ignorant life, and he put us in danger. He put my baby in danger.”

She looked up at me. “He showed me how to take the safety off, and then he put the gun in my hand. And I put it to his temple and shot him.”

For a long time there was nothing but the sound of the wind in the pines and the ice in the pond creaking and groaning as it melted and shifted. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, but the temperature was in the low forties, warm enough to melt the ice. I stared out at it without seeing anything. Minutes passed, and then I turned and walked back to the truck.

Julie followed. “You’re going to tell the police, aren’t you?”

I stopped and looked at her. “I don’t work for the police, Julie. I was hired by your father-in-law to find out what happened to his son. I have done that now. I will go to him, and I will tell him what I have found.”

I got in the truck and started the engine. Betsy was in the backseat. She gave me a bright smile.

“Your car is tall,” she said. “Mommy had to lift me inside.”

“I like them tall,” I said. “You wanna drive?” When I asked her, my voice broke, and then I didn’t say anything else. Julie climbed into the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt. On the drive back into the city, I did not speak. Not a word. Betsy and Julie talked. I drove.

I brought them to the Marriott. I parked the truck and helped Betsy down out of the cab. She squeezed my neck with her arms as I set her to the pavement, and she told me she would see me in the morning. I told her I’d look forward to it.

“You still owe me an ice cream,” she said as she bounced toward the hotel. I leaned against the truck and looked away.

Julie stepped up next to me. We both watched Betsy. “I’ll keep her safe and happy,” she said. “I will tell her Wayne is dead, but when I tell her we will be far away, and we will be safe. I will see that she is raised well, and raised happily, and not raised in danger or in the shadow of all the publicity.”

“Will you ever tell her the truth?” I asked. “Will you tell her what you did?”

She swallowed hard and didn’t look at me. “I don’t know.”

“Mommy, come on,” Betsy called. She was standing at the door to the lobby.

Julie turned to me. “Are you going to the police?”

“I’m going to see John, like I told you.”

She looked into my eyes, searching for another answer I would not offer, and then she nodded. “Okay, Lincoln.” She leaned up and kissed me softly on the cheek, letting her face linger near mine for a few extra seconds. “I owe my life to you, and my daughter’s life. You may hate me now. You have that right. Just know that I have nothing but gratitude for you.”

She turned and walked away, carrying a suitcase in each hand. Betsy tugged open the door, straining her little body against the heavy glass, and then they went inside. I got in the truck and drove to John Weston’s.

CHAPTER 27

THE WINDOWS of Weston’s house were dark, but he answered the door when I knocked. He was wearing pajamas and a robe, and he looked exhausted.

“Come in,” he said, stepping aside to let me pass.

“I’m sorry to bother you so late.”

“Son, don’t you ever apologize to me for anything. You want to come here at two in the morning every day, I won’t complain. I owe you more than I can ever repay.”

We went into the living room and sat down. The haze of cigarette smoke was thicker than I’d ever seen it before. He fired another one up and took a few puffs while I waited.

“Something’s on your mind,” he said. “You came here to let it out. So let it out.”

“You know they’re leaving,” I said.

He nodded. “Yes, son, I do. And as much as I hate to see them go, I will respect my daughter-in-law’s decision. She has the best interests of the little girl at heart. I firmly believe that.”

I nodded. “So do I.”

He’d turned on one lamp, but the room was still quite dark. The cigarette smoke hung heavily in the air, and it was warm enough to make me sweat. He ground the cigarette out in an ashtray and waited for me to speak.

“You hired me to find out what had happened to your family,” I said.

“Yes. And you’ve done that.”

I shook my head. “I’ve told you what happened to your granddaughter and her mother. I haven’t told you what happened to your son.”

He waited, but I didn’t say anything. Sometimes it’s hard to find a place to start.

“Son, I’m old and tired. Tell me what you have to say.”

So I told him. I told him my reasons for the initial suspicion, and I told him of my conversation with Julie. I told him I had not talked to the police about her yet. When I finished, it was quiet for a while.

“I hate to hear it,” he said eventually. “But I can’t say that I blame her. And I know that Wayne doesn’t blame her, wherever he is. Wayne lost sight of his family. He lost sight of his loyalty, and of his honor.” His voice was wet and gravelly.

“We need to call the police,” I said. “That’s what we need to do.”

The tip of his cigarette glowed a bright red as he inhaled. “Who you working for, Mr. Perry?”

I looked at him. “I’m working for you.”

He nodded. “Seems like I should get to make this call, then, doesn’t it?”

I shook my head. “It’s a felony, sir. She killed a man. I can’t let that go.”

He blew a cloud of smoke at me. “You’ve spent some time with my granddaughter, haven’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What do you think of her?”

I looked at the floor. “She’s an amazing little girl. She’s bright and fun and polite. She’s a very special kid.”

“You’re damn right she is.” He cleared his throat and put this cigarette out, too. “I’m a sick old man. I don’t have much time left. Other than Julie, I’m the only family that kid’s got. You want to tell me who’s going to raise her if her mother goes to jail?”

I shrugged. “Foster care, I guess. She’d be a ward of the state.”

“That’s right. Now look at me, son.”

I looked up and met his eyes.

“You are my employee. I am going to give you a request, and I expect and demand that you will follow through on it.”

“All right.”

“You take the night off,” he said. “Go home, go to bed. In the morning, you do what your heart and your head tell you to do.”

I told him I would, and then I stood up and said I’d see myself to the door. I made it halfway there before he spoke again.

“Mr. Perry?”

I turned. “Yes, sir?”

His face was hidden by the shadows and the smoke. “I hired you to bring me the truth. I didn’t ask you to bring me any sugarcoated bullshit. I asked for the truth, and you brought it to me. I thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. I wanted to ask him if he felt more or less lonely now than he had before, but I didn’t. I stepped out into the night and closed the door softly behind me. I’d brought him the truth. It sounded like a noble task, and I felt I should probably be proud to have done it. I wasn’t, though. Sometimes providing the truth isn’t any fun.

I stopped at a restaurant in North Olmsted and picked at a plate of food until I grew tired of pretending the night was normal and I had an appetite, and then I drove back to the apartment, changed clothes, and went down to my gym. Grace was long gone, of course. That was good. I didn’t want to make any lighthearted small talk.

My head was pounding and throbbing from the beating Krashakov had given me, but I didn’t take any medication. I welcomed the pain tonight. The gym was nearly empty, and I worked out furiously. It had been a few days since my last workout, and my muscles needed the exercise. The headache intensified, and so did my effort as I tried to cleanse myself through the exertion, the sweat, and the pain. It wasn’t working. I went at it for almost two hours, until my body gave up on outlasting my need for the exercise. I went back up to the apartment.