corner, and he dropped the rubber cement into it, then stripped the box cutter of its flimsy paper packaging and threw that out as well. There were people around, mostly commuters, a few preteens on skateboards, but no one was paying any attention to Corbin. If Henry was in his office—and that was a big if—then Corbin needed to take advantage of that fact. It didn’t matter that the woman from the hardware store might remember him. The only thing that mattered was getting to Henry.
He crossed at the crosswalk and made his way through the glass door into a small vestibule with water-stained walls and linoleum floor. The cramped space smelled of fresh bread and industrial cleaner. On the largest wall were three buttons, and three businesses listed. Corbin pressed the buzzer next to henry torrance, mediation specialist, and waited. What would he say if Henry’s voice came through the speaker on the wall? Corbin could feel the adrenaline in his blood. He decided to say nothing. If Henry was here, he’d simply bolt up the stairs, break down his door if necessary, and slit his throat with the box cutter. His fingers twitched at the thought.
But there was no answer to the buzzer. He pressed it again, held it longer. No one was there.
Corbin went up the narrow stairwell anyway. Off the landing was a short, poorly lit corridor with three closed doors. melanie gellar, licensed therapist. joseph hahn, cpa. And then simply henry torrance. That door was locked, but the knob felt flimsy in Corbin’s hand, like a tin can that he could crush. He considered busting through into the office for a lead on where Henry lived, but then he heard a phone ring in one of the other offices and a man’s voice answer it. Corbin took his hand off the doorknob. No, now he knew where Henry worked, and if he broke into his office, then Henry would be alerted. It was better to leave now and come back early the next day, stake out across the street, wait for Henry to show up.
Back outside, Corbin realized he didn’t have a way to get back to his hotel. Newton, although just on the outskirts of Boston, was still a suburb, and not an easy place to flag a cab. He spotted a bar across the street called Edmands Tavern. Inside, a small after-work crowd was filling up the padded leather seats around the horseshoe bar. Corbin leaned against the bar, ordered a Lagunitas Pils, and asked the bartender if she’d call a cab for him. She was young—college age at the most—with an arcane symbol tattooed onto the back of her long neck, and she looked at Corbin as if he’d just asked her if he could tie his horse out back for the night.
“I lost my cell phone,” Corbin explained.
She pulled out hers, and with rapidly moving thumbs, located a cab company and called them, handing the phone over to Corbin. He named the bar he was in and was told to wait ten minutes.
“You should get Uber,” the bartender said when he handed the phone back to her.
“I have it, but it’s on my phone.”
“Oh right.” She laughed, sliding down the bar toward a pair of bearded men in polo shirts who had just arrived and were studying the beer list.
Instead of having the cabdriver take him back to the hotel, Corbin gave 75 Bury Street as his address, then he leaned back on the worn vinyl of the backseat and closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to relax. He started with his face, forcing his jaw muscles to slacken, then worked his way down his body. He was so close to getting to Henry, and because of that, he allowed himself the briefest of fantasies, one that he’d had a few times. If he could kill Henry and get away with it, then he’d have his life back. Some semblance of a life, anyway. Maybe over time he could learn to forgive himself for what they’d done to Claire and to Linda, and the part that he’d played in Rachael’s and Audrey’s deaths. No, he could never truly forgive himself. But maybe he could atone. He didn’t know exactly how he would do that, but the image that sometimes came to his mind was an image of himself with a family, daughters of his own that he would protect. As soon as that image came into his mind, he