“They are,” Jason said.
“I’m glad I don’t have to stand in line to see you.”
“Not you, pal. Never. And nobody here realizes it, but they came to see Mommy, too.”
“They did?”
“Sure. They’re here about my book, aren’t they?”
“Yeah.”
“And who drew the picture on the cover?”
“Mommy.”
“Well, there you go. And she’s gonna do the cover for my next book, too.” He looked at Sophie. “Right?”
“If I’m not too busy,” she said with a smile.
“Of course.”
“Because I have another job lined up.”
“I think you mentioned that.”
“And two more after that. Did I mention that?” she asked, still smiling. “They’re really piling up, but I’ll see if I can fit you in.”
“I guess that’s all I can ask for.” Literally, it seemed. For while everything was coming up roses professionally for both Jason and Sophie, personally—at least from his perspective—things could have been better. But they also could have been far worse. He hadn’t had to kill anyone in almost a year. Even better, no one was trying to kill him. Best of all, Max had been on Solizen for ten months and the test results so far had been extraordinarily encouraging. There was every reason to hope that the treatment would give him a better, healthier, longer life—a life virtually undiminished by his rare disease.
His relationship with Sophie was better than it had been since the accident and their subsequent separation. Things weren’t the way Jason wanted them to be, and they might never be, but the two of them had arrived at a place that had seemed beyond the horizon not long ago, before Crackerjack had turned their lives upside down. They were friends again, which was a start. Without expressly asking whether he had indeed embraced some sort of inner darkness when he faced Cobb, Sophie asked how he’d felt about killing him, and he’d assured her that he hadn’t enjoyed it one iota. It had been necessary but regrettable, he’d said. He’d have given anything to have been able to resolve things differently, he’d told her. And as he’d said all that, she had watched his eyes closely. In the end, she seemed satisfied with whatever she’d seen there. He was glad. He truly didn’t know what she would see—whether there was something crouching in a shadowy place in his mind, an Inside Dark waiting for him to be ready to listen to it. He hoped like hell that wasn’t the case. He even talked to a therapist about it twice a month now. And he prayed about it every night. And if someday he heard a voice answering that prayer . . . well, he hoped it would belong to God and not . . . something else.
A little less than a year ago he had personally killed two men, both of whom had been cruel and psychotic murderers who didn’t deserve the blessing of life, so he wasn’t troubled by that. He had also played a significant part in the killing of another man, but no matter what Arthur Cobb had done in his past, he hadn’t deserved the punishment of continued life in the state he was in, so Jason wasn’t bothered by his own role in that death, either. Finally, he shared some of the moral responsibility, to varying degrees, for the murders Cobb committed after Jason learned the truth about him, including those of Lyman Gooding, whose body had yet to be found, and Ronald Wheeler, whose death was deemed accidental. But after intense soul-searching, he decided that those deaths were far more appropriately a burden on Cobb’s soul than his own.
He signed another copy of his book for another happy fan and looked at the long line of people standing behind her. At his side, his wife and son looked at the same line. Sophie was smiling, and Max was impressed that people wanted to meet his famous father.
Briggs had been right . . . the whole Crackerjack thing had worked out pretty well for Jason Swike.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and deepest thanks go to my wife, Colleen, who makes my writing life possible and the rest of my life spectacular. Thanks also to my sons for being who they are and for never letting me forget what it’s all about.
I am also indebted to Michael Bourret, my agent at Dystel, Goderich & Bourret LLC, for all that he does for me and for my books; David Downing, for his insight, honesty, and editorial eagle eye; and Gracie Doyle, Liz Pearsons, Sarah Shaw, and every single member of the team at Thomas & Mercer, all of whom work hard to bring my books to life.
Thanks to Heidi Kujda and good friends Stephen Karasawa and Daniel Suarez for information on which I relied in the writing of this book. Their help made my job easier and the book better.
Many, many thanks to my family and friends far and wide for their continuing and unwavering support, interest, and enthusiasm.
Final, heartfelt gratitude is reserved for my readers, whom I cannot thank enough for spending time with my books and for reaching out to me through my website and Facebook and Twitter to let me know that they enjoy what I do. It means the world to me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
James Hankins’s novels of suspense include The Prettiest One, Shady Cross, Brothers and Bones, Jack of Spades, and Drawn. Each of his books has become an Amazon #1 bestseller, and Brothers and Bones was named to the Kirkus Reviews list of Best Books of 2013. Hankins lives north of Boston with his wife and sons and can be reached through his website, www.jameshankinsbooks.com; on Twitter @James_Hankins_; and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/JamesHankinsAuthorPage.
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