I was sitting in front of the computer, momentarily frozen as I sought words that would allow me to tell my client he was an idiot without sacrificing the rest of my fee, when the phone rang. I hit the speakerphone button, a habit I’d developed only in Joe’s absence, and said hello.
“Lincoln?” Voices on the speakerphone always seemed to come from a long way off, but this one put a different spin on that quality. It was coming from a long way off and a place I’d been trying to forget.
“Karen.” For a moment I regretted saying her name, wished I’d pretended not to recognize her voice from just that one word, but then I realized that was a pointless exercise. I would’ve known her even if she’d only sneezed when I answered the phone, and she knew that.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Certainly better than you must be doing, at least.”
“Are you free for a little while?”
I paused. “I’m working. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just… I was hoping you could come by. I wanted to apologize, that’s all. I just found out what the police did. That was ridiculous. I can’t believe they talked to you. There was no reason for it.”
“There was a reason for it,” I said. “It’s called doing a job. I didn’t take any offense.”
“Well, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure… wanted you to know that I didn’t send them. That I wasn’t the one who gave them the idea they needed to bother you with this.”
Hearing her voice was surreal. I knew it so well, the pitch, the cadence, and yet in a way it felt like listening to a singer whose face you’ve never seen. That voice couldn’t be any more familiar, yet I didn’t know who she was. Not anymore.
“I understand,” I said.
Silence. I leaned back in my chair and waited.
“Lincoln?”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were still there.”
“I’m here.”
Another pause, then, “Anyhow, I was hoping, if you had a few minutes, you could come by.”
“So you could apologize?”
“Well, yes.”
“You just did. And, thank you, but it was unnecessary.”
“Okay,” she said. “Okay. Well… goodbye, Lincoln.”
“Goodbye, Karen. Good luck.”
She hung up, but only when the phone began to beep at me did I remember to lean over and click off the speakerphone.
Ten minutes later, it rang again. Karen.
“Lincoln, I really do need to see you. I’m drained, and emotional, and I hung up before because… well, your voice was so defensive. And I understand that. I do. But I need to see you. In person.”
“Just to apologize?”
“Lincoln…” There were tears in her voice now.
Shit. I pushed back in my chair, rolled my eyes to the ceiling, and shook my head. What the hell was this about?
“Twenty minutes,” she said, speaking the words softly and carefully, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. “It’s important.”
“Where?”
“The house.”
The house. Like it was Monticello, some sort of damn landmark.
“I don’t know where the house is, Karen.”
“Pepper Pike. Off Shaker, near the country club.” She gave me the address.
“The country club,” I said. “Of course.” That had been the location of my last encounter with Jefferson, but Karen didn’t strike me as someone who’d appreciate that particular flash of nostalgia, so I kept it to myself.
“You’ll come?”
“Like I’ve got no sense at all.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Thank you, Lincoln.”
We hung up again, and, after a few minutes of swearing at myself, I got up and walked out the door.
A
LSO BY
M
ICHAEL
K
ORYTA
The Ridge
The Cypress House
So Cold the River
The Silent Hour
Envy the Night
A Welcome Grave
Sorrow’s Anthem
Tonight I Said Goodbye
Copyright
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2012 by Michael Koryta
Cover design by Ploy Siripant; photograph © Doug Steley A / Alamy
Author photograph by Wout Jan Balhuizen
Cover © 2012 Hachette Book Group, Inc.
Excerpt of The Ridge © copyright 2011 by Michael Koryta
Excerpt of A Welcome Grave © copyright 2007 by Michael Koryta
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Little, Brown and Company
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First e-book edition: August 2012
Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc., and is celebrating its 175th anniversary in 2012. The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The author is grateful for permission to use lyrics from “Return to Me,” by Matthew Ryan, from the album Regret Over the Wires © Irving Music Inc./BMI.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
The Hachette Speakers Bureau provides a wide range of authors for speaking events. To find out more, go to hachettespeakersbureau.com or call (866) 376-6591.
ISBN 978-0-316-21590-9
In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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