Barclay, Linwood - Broken Promise 02 - Far From True by Barclay Linwood

Author:Barclay, Linwood [Barclay, Linwood]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller, Mystery, Suspense
ISBN: 9780451472700
Amazon: B010N18JJE
Publisher: NAL
Published: 2016-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

THIRTY-FOUR

RANDALL Finley pulled his Lincoln into his home driveway, up next to a red Kia, killed the engine. He sat behind the wheel for a moment, listened to the ticking of the engine as it began its cooldown, then got out. He walked wearily to the front door, but did not get out his key. He expected the door would be unlocked, which it was.

He heard stirring in the kitchen.

“Mr. Finley?” a woman called out.

“Hey, Lindsay,” he said, walking down the hall, loosening his tie on the way to the kitchen.

“You look tired,” said Lindsay. She was in her late sixties, her thinning hair pinned tightly to her head. Her thin, ropy arms were busy wiping down one of the countertops. “Long day?”

“I should have called,” he told her. “Sorry to keep you here so long.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Did you eat? There’s something in the fridge. Some ham, and some potato salad.”

“That’d be nice, actually,” he said. “I could use a drink first.”

He went to the cupboard, brought down a bottle of scotch and a glass. Then he turned on the small television that was mounted below a cupboard, turned it to the news channel.

There was Duckworth, saying something about squirrels.

Squirrels? So maybe Duckworth was finally taking seriously those dead rodents he’d alerted him to. Finley turned up the volume.

“—you count them, you’ll notice there are twenty-three animals here. Now, let me put this second photo up. . . . Okay, this is the Ferris wheel at Five Mountains. That ride—”

The detective was talking about several incidents linked by the number twenty-three.

“Well,” said Finley. “You hear about this, Lindsay?”

“Hear about what?”

“This guy doing all these things around town, he’s got this sort of signature? A number?”

“I don’t know anything about that,” she said. “You know me. I never put on the TV news. I don’t listen to the radio. All the news is depressing. I don’t need that. I just listen to my music.” She pointed to the iPod and earbuds on the kitchen table. Finley had asked her not to wear them when she was in the house, looking after Jane, but Lindsay swore she kept the volume low.

As if anticipating his next question, Lindsay said, “She had a good day. She slept a lot, but she had a good day.”

She took the ham and potato salad from the fridge. One entire shelf was lined with bottles of Finley Springs Water.

“She drank a whole pitcher of lemonade!” Lindsay said as she made up a plate for Finley. “She just loves the frozen concentrate. Sometimes, before I mix in the water, she likes to have a little of the frozen stuff on a spoon.” Lindsay chuckled. “She’s such a character. She makes me laugh. All that lemonade, I had to help her to the bathroom a few times.”

Finley downed his scotch, his eyes still on the Duckworth news conference. When it ended, he turned off the TV. “What was that?”

“The lemonade. She loves it.”

“She needs the fluids,” Finley said. “I’ll bring home some more cases of water.

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