“Who else, indeed?” The older man asked. “But what I don’t understand is how you lured my daughter in here. She never would have come this way on her own. Never.”
“She followed me. Really, she did.” Jane shook her head vehemently. “You have to believe me. I would never have hurt Samantha. She meant everything to me. Everything. I only took her book so that she’d talk to me.”
“She followed you in here?” The old man’s voice cracked. “Because you stole her book?”
Jane kept shaking her head. “But it turned out she wasn’t my Samantha. Samantha would never have pushed me away. She never would have said such terrible things.”
“She followed you in here?” he repeated as he grabbed the book from Mark’s hands. “For this?” Dropping his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose and covered his eyes.
“Don’t you see, there’s been a mistake.” Jane twisted between the two men. “It’s him. He did it.”
Mark laid a steadying hand on the older man’s shaking shoulders. “We were afraid we’d never find who murdered Laura. But you were right,” he said to Jane. “Victims return to the scene of the crime, too. Especially when it’s their only chance to catch a killer.”
“You’re the killer,” Jane screeched. “She must have told you how she felt about me. That’s how you knew I’d be here today.” Turning to the cop, she said, “Don’t you see? He bought that book to set me up. He’s the one you should be arresting.”
As the older man snapped handcuffs on Jane’s wrists, Mark pulled his book from the messenger bag. He opened the front cover. “To Mark.” His voice trembled and his eyes glistened. “Stay curious as life’s adventures unfold. Love, Dad.” He waited until the older man looked up again. “I’ve had this book for a very long time, haven’t I?”
The cop’s jaw was tight. “Long time.”
Jane swallowed. “I don’t understand.”
“My sister’s ritual was to read this book at the statue on her birthday every year,” Mark said.
“But … how could I know that? She wouldn’t talk to me.”
“Is that supposed to justify killing her?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Jane said. “But she got so angry with me. I couldn’t make her understand. When she tried to get away, I lost my temper. I only meant to stop her long enough to listen.”
“You stopped her, all right.”
“I never would have hurt my Samantha,” Jane cried. “It was an accident.”
The older man faced her with bared teeth and red eyes. “Let’s go.”
“But he promised me a chance to tell her how I felt.” Jane’s voice was thin and shrill as she spun to face Mark. “You promised. What about my closure?”
“Her name was Laura,” the cop said. “And you’ll get your closure in court.” He tugged Jane by her handcuffs. “Today, we have ours.”
Mark gripped the older man’s shoulder. “Good to have you back, Dad.”
JULIE HYZY is a New York Times best-selling author who has won the Anthony, Barry, and Derringer Awards for her crime fiction. She currently writes two amateur-sleuth mystery series for Berkley Prime Crime: the White House Chef Mysteries and the Manor House Mysteries. Her favorite pastimes include traveling with her husband and hanging out with her kids. She lives in the Chicago area.
THE PICTURE OF THE LONELY DINER
Lee Child
Jack Reacher got out of the R train at Twenty-Third Street and found the nearest stairway blocked off with plastic police tape. It was striped blue and white, tied between one handrail and the other, and it was moving in the subway wind. It said: POLICE DO NOT ENTER. Which, technically, Reacher didn’t want to do anyway. He wanted to exit. Although to exit, he would need to enter the stairwell. Which was a linguistic complexity. In which context, he sympathized with the cops. They didn’t have different kinds of tape for different kinds of situations. POLICE DO NOT ENTER IN ORDER TO EXIT was not in their inventory.