Original Sins by Erin Young

Author:Erin Young
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flatiron Books

28

Clermont Manor appeared on the brow of the hill miles before they reached it, its rooftops and chimneys stark against the morning sky. A Victorian behemoth, brooding over scrubby fields.

Riley peered through the windshield at it as Fogg drove, the Buick’s new wheels sure-footed on the icy road. It felt good to be gone from Lone Creek. She had filled Fogg in back at the motel, telling him what she’d learned from Richard Kitch, but leaving out the incident with Gabriel Marsh. Fogg had been quiet on the drive today and she wondered if he was still pissed at her for holding back her conversation with Jess Cook, or whether his thoughts lingered on the ugly message left by Marsh.

She checked her phone again. Nothing from Maddie, which was to be expected. No more from Meadows either, although her boss’s curt reminder of her priorities had wedged in her mind, along with the impression Peter Altman was AWOL. If Clermont Manor didn’t yield anything today, she would have to head back to the city, let Fogg continue on this trail alone.

She had lain awake last night, thoughts jumping agitatedly between her reaction to Marsh and her concerns around Altman. She’d wondered about talking to Fogg, asking him how well he knew the agent, but things were complicated enough. She had no evidence of any wrongdoing or corruption, just scattered dots of doubt without lines of reason or motivation to connect them. Besides, after Fogg had balked at the mere suggestion of Ted Pierce being in the frame, she knew if she now pointed a finger at a colleague on their own task force, the detective would probably start to question her faculties. She was starting to question them a little herself.

By the time dawn arrived, pale tendrils of light creeping around the motel’s dusty curtains, Riley had made her decision. If she couldn’t confront Meadows or Altman without endangering her position—or, worse, the governor herself—that left one person who might be persuaded to talk. An ex–special agent with, perhaps, a grudge to bear.

Entering the grounds, they passed a graveyard, headstones jutting like teeth from the earth. Beyond were outbuildings, including an old grain silo strangled in ivy. Riley, reading a brief history of the place, knew it once had a working farm attached. Now the grounds had been turned over to vegetable gardens. The plots were mostly bare, winter seeds sleeping under the soil. A scarecrow with a burlap face hung from a post.

Up close, the large building appeared less intimidating. One wing looked newer than the rest, the pale blocks of stone more pristine. There was a welcome sign—CLERMONT MANOR, INSTITUTE FOR MENTAL HEALTH—with images of smiling patients and staff. Parking in the busy lot, Riley and Fogg headed for reception. After showing their badges and asking to speak to the manager, they were led by an orderly along a maze of corridors.

The orderly, who wore a brightly patterned uniform and matching mask, treated it like a tour, pointing into various rooms.

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