The Inn - James Patterson Page 0,95

them to the commissioner.

“Malone returned the remaining stolen money with the letter,” McGinniskin said. “Seventeen thousand dollars. I guess that was all that was left after his treatments. Makes me wonder why, if you were indeed his willing partner in crime, he didn’t just give it to you. But in any case, what could I do with it? The guy you both robbed never made an official report, of course. The department suspects the funds are a result of his criminal activity.”

“So what did you do with it?” I asked.

“I donated it to a homeless shelter,” she said, giving a dismissive wave.

I didn’t know if I was free to go and was too tired to ask. I stood and started walking off, but the commissioner called my name and I turned to look back at her standing by the squad car, her arms still folded defensively.

“Stay in touch,” she said with great reluctance. “There are times I could use a good man who’s not on the payroll.”

I nodded, and Susan linked her arm with mine as we walked away. After a few steps she poked me in the arm.

“Good man, huh?” she asked.

“She must be thinking of someone else.” I smiled.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINE

“THIS IS RIDICULOUS,” Angelica said, looking at her watch. “If they say they’re going to be here at ten, they ought to be here at ten!”

“Sit down.” Vinny patted the plastic lawn chair beside him at the foldout table. “You’re makin’ me nervous. The guy’s gonna be here when he gets here and that’s all there is to it.”

I sat at the end of the table with Susan, waiting, as my friends waited, for the FedEx driver whose delivery Angelica had been anticipating for six months. Before us on the picnic table on the lawn was spread a feast not dissimilar to the one Marni had arranged what seemed a lifetime ago to mourn my lost wife. Croissants, bagels, doughnuts, yellow napkins, and yellow paper plates left over from the memorial caught the light filtering through the trees.

We were back where we had started, and yet so far from there. The people laughing, talking, drinking coffee around me in the morning light were battle-scarred. Some of them didn’t sleep well anymore. Some of them had the evidence of their fight on their skin. What Cline had brought into our town had left its mark, but right now, there were more important things to think about.

Next to Vinny, Effie sat with a black coffee in front of her, tearing strips off a croissant. Now and then as she ate, twitching whiskers would emerge from her shirt pocket and she would take a flake of croissant and present it to the snuffling nose. Crazy the rat had become a kind of household mascot in the time since Effie had rescued him from the drain, and feeding him bread, peanuts, sunflower seeds, and the occasional blueberry was an activity everyone—except Angelica—enjoyed. Effie’s shirt pocket sagged with the weight of the obese rodent, drawing her collar sideways, away from her scarred neck.

As I watched my people enjoying themselves, a movement in the window above us caught my eye. Neddy Ives was watching, his arms folded, his eyes moving over Angelica as she complained to Vinny about the FedEx guy. He wouldn’t join us, I knew, but even a glimpse of him in the window was better than nothing. He was changed, like the rest of us.

“I know this is Angelica’s day,” Susan said. “But I keep thinking about Marni.”

I looked at her and was surprised to see her smiling.

“She’d have been so buzzed about this,” she said. “Waiting for the books to arrive. Opening the box for the first time. She always got in on other people’s excitement.”

Clay was near us, leaning on the table as he listened to Susan’s words.

“I still think about her all the time,” he said. “I know it’s stupid but … I thought just this morning that after what happened, her mother would have found out that the little heart tattoo on her cheek was real.”

“It was real?” I gasped.

Susan laughed. “Of course it was.”

“She told me—”

“That she drew it in every day with lip liner.” Clay laughed. “Yeah. She said she was going to tell you that.”

“So you all knew the tattoo was real? Everybody knew except me?”

“We helped her hide it from you when it was fresh and swollen.” Susan snickered. “When you arrived home, we’d warn her. She kept her right side to